"injuries" poems
I chose feminism because I believe in equality between genders.
because I’m against gender roles, men who need a woman to get their **** done are not “cute” and are nothing but spoiled little brats.
because my virginity, my body hair and how I dress up are none of your business.
I chose feminism because I’m not a *** machine nor a baby producer I value much much more than that.
because I don’t need a man to validate my self worth, I already know what I’m worth.
because in some countries ***** women are forced to spend the rest of their life under the same roof as their assaulter.
I chose feminism because a woman who speak up and raise her voice is a ***** .
because in my city a woman was beaten by her husband the night of their wedding because she didn’t “bleed” in the ***********
I chose to speak up because an 8 year old Yemeni girl died of internal injuries at the hands of 40 year old husband on their wedding night.
because ****** is not a ***** word and my periods are not disgusting.
because more women need to speak up and speak for their rights
I chose feminism and everyone should do the same .
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Compelled by calamity's magnet
They loiter and stare as if the house
Burnt-out were theirs, or as if they thought
Some scandal might any minute ooze
From a smoke-choked closet into light;
No deaths, no prodigious injuries
Glut these hunters after an old meat,
Blood-spoor of the austere tragedies.
Mother Medea in a green smock
Moves humbly as any housewife through
Her ruined apartments, taking stock
Of charred shoes, the sodden upholstery:
Cheated of the pyre and the rack,
The crowd ***** her last tear and turns away.
13.8k
Maids, not to you my mind doth change;
Men I defy, allure, estrange,
Prostrate, make bond or free:
Soft as the stream beneath the plane
To you I sing my love's refrain;
Between us is no thought of pain,
Peril, satiety.
Soon doth a lover's patience tire,
But ye to manifold desire
Can yield response, ye know
When for long, museful days I pine,
The presage at my heart divine;
To you I never breathe a sign
Of inward want or woe.
When injuries my spirit bruise,
Allaying virtue ye infuse
With unobtrusive skill:
And if care frets ye come to me
As fresh as nymph from stream or tree,
And with your soft vitality
My weary ***** fill.
10.1k
Did you know that if you don't stretch in the correct way, you might end up thwarting the entire purpose of your workout and suffer unwanted injuries?
Doing pre-workout stretches thoroughly will determine whether you are benefiting from your workout or whether it's worsening your muscle tear. Here are the major stretching crimes that you should never commit.
Not doing a proper warm-up
According to gym instructors worldwide, this is the most commonly committed crimes in any gym. A warm-up is a must before any kind of workout — cardio or weights — and must ideally last at least 12-15 minutes.
Assuming that stretching is a warm-up
Stretching and warming up is not the same. You need to warm up first, before you are ready to stretch. A slow jog or brisk walking on the treadmill is a good warm-up.
Rushing through your stretching exercises
Stretching should be for the entire body. You cannot skip any parts. Involve stretches that work your lower back, shoulders, calves, stomach, quads etc. You should not move from one stretch to the other in very quick succession because that may cause untoward injuries. Try to hold each stretch for 20 seconds. When you breathe deeply and hold the stretch, your muscles get trained to tolerate the maximum that your limbs can go to.
Giving stretching a skip after a workout
You have done an hour of strenuous exercise and now you just want to rush out of the gym; that is a huge mistake. Spend some time bending and stretching after your sweat session. Then, do a cool down before you leave the gym.
Not stretching every day
You need to be your flexible best always and that can only happen if you stretch daily, even on the days that you aren't gymming. This ensures that your gym days are more fruitful and that you make the most of them.
Not breathing properly
Breathing right is a very important aspect of stretching. Breathe naturally while you inhale through your nose, expand your rib cage and upper abdomen as you fill in your lungs. When exhaling, breathe out through your mouth, preferably making an audible sound. This relaxes you. While stretching, you need to breathe out when you are exerting, that is, when you are actually contracting your muscles.
Doing static stretches
Never stand still and do stretches that work only one muscle. You should rather do stretches that work a group of muscles — like a lunge that stretches your upper hamstring muscle, your ankles and also your glutes.
Ignoring pain while stretching
When you are in the middle of a stretch and you feel pain, stop immediately and consult an expert. Your stretch should make you feel a gentle pull only, not immense pain. If you are hurting, you are doing it wrong. Rest a few days and then go back to working out under a qualified trainer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC
at times we tend to think
our democracy is safely founded and secure
only eventually we recognize
the need to constantly defend its fundamental rights
work steadily against their stealthy abolition
watch carefully the words of politicians
lest they betray what they pretend to say
think twice for whom we cast our votes
avoid contenders who too often bray
that these were not their quotes
listen to those who have good arguments
do not unleash too easy sentiments
and in the end cast our votes when called
in short
democracy turns out to be hard work
in case we shirk this
we soon pay the price
unfree societies have known
dictatorship corruption vice
have often needed centuries
to remedy injuries done
to find their four freedoms
and to recognize
democracy remains a living promise
a brilliant idea with many faces
always a work in progress
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
The doctor tells me my results.
Three injuries in one.
I would need surgery.
Tears welled in my eyes.
I could no longer play the sports I loved.
Was this the end?
My ACL decided athletics had taken it's toll,
and my menisci was right along with it.
The bruised bone was a bonus though.
Was this the end?
Could I emotionally handle
the recovery?
The recovery of heartbreak from simple test results
The recovery from physical damage
The recovery of surgery that joined my main muscles back together again
The recovery of a new muscle, foreign to me
Will I ever be fully recovered?
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
Bodies moved and liquor spilled
Hands got up and all felt good
Music created a flow and rhythm became nourishment
Five senses became three
Lovers were formed and lovers were lost
Tears fell and mixed with the liquor
Injuries occurred
Enemies were made...
Bodies still moved and liquor spilled
Hearts were broken and hearts were delighted
Curves appealed to the eyes and grasps occurred
Smiles became kisses and
Kisses became conductors of emotions and desires
*** resulted and smiles occurred...
Bodies moved and liquor spilled
They all went home and memories were erased
-Conscious
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
When he comes home, I go into panic mode,
The walls in my brain closing in,
The bile in my throat rising,
My teeth sweating in anticipation of what is to come
When he comes home,
I hope to god that I pass beneath the radar,
Nothing more than a sigh on the breeze,
Nothing more than a ripple in a pond
Nothing for him to notice
When he comes home, I make myself as small as I can,
Hoping that he’ll ignore me like he has all these years,
But knowing that it’s a futile attempt,
Like trying to avoid the burning sun
When he comes home,
The nausea roils in my gut,
Reminding me that I am nothing,
That I will never be anything more than what he paints me to be
When he comes home,
I am reduced to “yes sir” and “no sir,”
To eyes that are glued to the ceiling or floors,
To fidgeting hands and twisting fingers
To nothing more than a decoration to stand in the corner
When he comes home,
I try to retreat to my room,
I try to give him the space that he seems to need,
I try to leave him be and let him sleep,
But nothing seems to work, and he yells all the same
When he comes home,
My home becomes nothing more than a battlefield,
One that I cannot escape,
One that there is no running from,
One from which the injuries are only seen in the trauma that is left behind
When he comes home,
My life becomes nothing more than a play,
A tragedy in which no one survives,
A performance that I am supposed to know,
But stage fright has taken over and the lines mean nothing to me now
And I am frozen, hoping for the curtains to fall to cover my fear
When he comes home,
I quietly
Exit
Stage left.
Jun 17, 2023
Jun 17, 2023 at 9:15 PM UTC
<>
**”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light
Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”**
~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)
<>
First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,
at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee
it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue
simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul
here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
upon
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 4:05 AM UTC
People keep asking me how I’m doing.
If I’m getting better or if I’ve taken the time to process what’s happened.
If I’ve sought professional help for the metal percussions induced by my career-ending injury.
In all honesty though, professional help is futile. It can’t save me now.
I’m walking through hell and sitting in a ring of fire discussing the temperature of the searing flames would be idiotic.
Why would I allow the flames to dance along my already seared skin longer than necessary?
I know they’re hot.
I know I’m in hell.
I know the pain I feel every day is real and crippling.
Talking about this pain wouldn’t end it. It wouldn’t diminish the heat. It wouldn’t help.
I need to keep walking.
I just need to keep walking.
My crippled body can’t run anymore, but I’ve got to keep walking.
Others continue to rush by. Frantic because they’ve never felt the flames.
They aren’t familiar with the burn. The idea of being in hell is novel.
They are novices.
But life hasn’t been kind to me.
These flames are familiar with every curve of my body and they dance around with trained feet.
I’ve been in hell for years.
People continue suggesting I find the light at the end of the tunnel, but that’s near impossible here.
I’m too blinded by the brightness of a vehement flame.
Sizzling with an angry vigor for the lack of gratitude I bestowed on my past life.
It mocks the speed at which I used to be able to run. It laps sardonically at the feet that used to run cheer-inducing speeds without thanks from their owner.
But crowds don’t cheer my name anymore.
I now stand on the sidelines and watch my team play.
I burn alive for the game I used to breath and as I watch each and every game, the deep breaths of oxygen only continue alighting the fire.
There’s no way out it seems, but I will try to keep walking.
Because talking is futile.
Note:
Spinal diseases are crippling mentally and physically. Watching the body you've sculpted for years turn to mush because you can't workout is dilapidating .
The despair and helplessness are unfamiliar feelings, feelings that can't be overcome. Disease is disease and sometimes it can't be stopped. Sometimes, it just becomes a burden to bear.
And sometimes people aren't strong enough.
It's different when careers end after four years of college. An expected end, an anticipated end. But when things you love are taken from you abruptly, before your finished. The pain is exponentially worse.
Exponentially. Worse.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
I have no injuries
but I always feel like I'm in pain
My mind is always clear
but I always feel like I have a headache
I'm breathing fine
but I always feel like I'm suffocating
Have I lost my touch?
or have I lost my sanity?
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
Cause you're toxic Defiled
shedding the old you exposing a new person you have turned into
You're not around me... now
But when you are
I'm falling like I'm drowning
This friendships crowning
Evolved into another person that I just don't need.
Cause you're all full of passive aggressive rage that's melted my sight.
What's hidden and hissing waiting to devoure me.
Brainwashed to all the lies that you've been telling me.
Seducing me, loving me with self loathing injections, posioning.
Leading me to believe. Lies.
In the trenches abandion. Dark. Quite. So I stop being afraid. Nothing flogging me.
Reality: The unforgiving madness. Like a light in the darkness. My Heart.
I see that I can be worthy. I just gotta figure out how to get back my selfesteem again.
No one wants to lick my wounds of unchanging torture.
Cause I have been walking around in a salted skin.
Never healing, never dealing, with all the injuries that I've taken.
Don't want to soak up the death were you've laid me to rest. Cause it's changing me.
You are not me. I will never be you. You wanted me invisible, you still do, when all you can be is you.
Lets call it what it is: Resentment.
You will never be me! Sorry imitation. It's what's in the heart.
Look at me. Strong again.
Prying off the scabs of pain Disinfecting
Nine years and this is the end.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 2:14 PM UTC
This is a story of a very loving girl who let her love take her all over the world. A man once convinced her that she was unworthy, and when he threw her out, she left in a hurry. She never looked back and scurried through the states until she found home at her families gates.
Once that man hurt her, she wanted to help others. She gave nothing but love and she nurtured as a mother. Some people accepted the love that she gave and they seemed to love her back so she decided to stay.
The girl fell in love with being loved and got carried away. She ran around experiencing love - every second, each day. Eventually she got herself into a pickle; her heart was strong but her mind, very fickle. She could never belong to only one because she felt she should be there for everyone.
After all of the people that came and went, she never once forgot the time that was spent. The stories, those moments, the love that was shared; she gave out so much love that her heart became bare. She endured great amounts of emotional ware, with some physical injuries that gave doctors a scare. She became very careless with everyone soon and discarded them after they'd been in her bedroom.
Please don't be mislead, the ending is bad, it's another love story with an ending quite sad. After all of the loving and hurting was done, she took a step back to see what she'd become. Much to her dismay she was seemingly **** for the lovers she loved once, had all come undone.
An ugly society, to which she'd finally succumb, molded her into the person from which all this begun. Who knows if you're reading or listening now, but she wants you to know what you've done. Take a bow.
kd
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC
Picking petals
like you picked apart
my heart.
each piece drifts
slowly
to the ground
You loved me,
you love me not.
Petal by petal.
Piece by piece.
Till nothing's left
but a vacant stem,
an empty vessel.
Left to wither away
never can be whole again,
can't get back what's been taken.
You loved me.
You love me not.
I envy the flower,
for while it dies
after being picked and torn
to peices.
I survive,
these injuries won't **** me
but I'll never be the same.
so i'll continue picking petals
You loved me.
You love me not.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
What is this?
I am restless
I don’t know why
But, I feel no interest
Just force a smile upon
What is this?
I see no color
But, I am not blind
Oh, I see, the world is black
No love, no affection
What is this?
This emptiness I never felt before, or
I did but chose to ignore
And live a life of mere glass that can shatter
Shatter at the slightest touch
What is this?
I am breathless
As if someone is following me
Or is it that I want to catch someone
How do people smile so easily?
Live so freely
Will ‘they’ answer me?
If I ask
The reason for life to be bestowed upon us
What is this?
I feel alone, separated, anxious
I am scared
I want to live
No perhaps I don’t
Yes
No matter where I search
Whom I ask
They give no reply
What is this?
I am eager
I want someone to share my feelings with
I searched here and there
Tried to open up to many
But ended up hurt
What is this?
Ah! I see, perhaps end
Searching for someone I came across this question
Why is life bestowed upon us?
I am alone
I want someone
I call out will all my might
But no one listens
I am tired
I will just live like others
Yeah
What is this?
In the end I give up
That someone I want to share my feelings, myself with
Is no where
Oh! I give up
I am really afraid
Scared
I am as if bond by invisible chains of
Of what
Hatred, love, anger?
No perhaps emptiness
What is this?
I am alone
In this darkness days pass
But no one comes
Please come
Someone
I want to open up
Share
I can no longer live alone
Why
Why is life in the first place?
I don’t want jealousy to devourer me
Please I am alone
What is this?
I feel attracted to someone or
Perhaps I am forcing myself to be attracted
Wanting to live on imaginary lies
Yes
Lies
All are lies
This life is itself
Having no reason to exist
Is there an afterlife
A happy one
Where I can find someone to open up
If there is I wish to die
Oh! God forgive me
But I can no longer
Handle these injuries, pain, and suffering
Not anymore
I am gradually giving up
On the believe on the very existence of happiness
But,
Please, if my angel exists let my voice
My hearts reaches you and find me
Before I am devoured by this darkness
For,
I give up on this life of mine
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
We've got a red white and blue bloodlust
For the drips
from the slits
in the wrist
Of Ms. Statue of Liberty
Miss America
Covered in capitalist pigs blood
camouflaged as corn syrup
whispering bitter somethings
to the diabetic nation
that broke her sweet-heart
They'll give her something
to fill her wounds
And add insult to
Self-inflicted injuries
in flashes of light
our arrogance
under-shadows
our destiny
She’ll overcome us
in her apotheosis
She’ll come
back around harder
next time
When she finally comes for us
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
They line the streets
And on every corner
One "ailment" or the other
A family, sometimes brother and sister.
Crying in a song
Singing with one voice
All covered up in fake injuries
Lamenting about past glories
They line the streets
Crowding every corner
Always a bother
Clinging to our knees
In their deliberately torn dresses
Keep them away from us
Stop them from touching us
With their deceptive illusions
Appealing to our emotions
With empathetic persuasions
And now our money is gone.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
The infinity of lights made her feel infinite
Safe
Like all the light would drive out the dark in this glowing city
One
She was as vast as the vast city around her
New York
Chicago
Seattle
all
or
None of the above
Dream World
Safe
Safe enough to jump
Not really to jump
Maybe more to fly
The fear did not affect her action
In her hazy dream world city
She could fly she thought
She places her feet on the slippery unforgiving iron
Stepping Up
Looking Down
The fear was still not there
This was not a suicidal act
She wanted to jump
Not so much to jump as to fly
King of this concrete jungle
The ***** of the heart
The pulse of the hand
The breathlessness
The final step
Shes soaring now
Shes falling now
flying:soaring:floating
falling:flailing:breaking
you won't break yourself if you believe you can't
There's the confliction
The child that believes she can fly
The grown girl who lays broken to die
Her body is broken like a cartoon
Like Wile E cayote after falling off some boulder
There was a whole body
There was not
blood
guts
or reality
Hazy dreamworld city
In this flowing capital she beams with a twisted sense of perseverance
She sustains no injuries
Like tripping on those uneven breaks of pavement
They say you're never supposed to sleep through the falls in the falling dreams
The pit of the stomach
Winded
Clammy
Punched in the stomach
Falling Dreams
Yet she did
Why was the fear not there?
It was not in her sleep cycle
not on top of the skyscraper in hazy dreamworld city
She saw her broken body rise to life
Why could she sleep through the fall?
And the next sky scraper she fell from
...Not in hazy dreamworld city
...Would she walk away?
Was she jumping from the money that built that skyscraper?
Or the classic Freudian symbol, dream specialists might contend
Translation of one image onto another
So I was jumping away from men
Commitment
What's new?
Spend money and time
Loose friends and crime
Jumping away from reality
Soaring now
Falling now
Falling into the flowing light of the hazy dreamworld city
As flies will always return to fluorescent light bulbs, naive
Like if she got close enough to it
She would become it
She would consume it
The light would consume her
Illuminated
The dark expelled to the smallest corners of this earth
flying in this hazy dreamworld city.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
Shall I brag of my pain, --
for they made me feel?
Shall I boast of my sorrow --
when I discovered joy in the midst of mourning?
Shall I brag of my suffering --
when I have learned to fight?
Shall I take pride of my regrets --
now that I understood better?
Shall I boast of my injuries --
as I've learned to push, get up, and move
even with a limp?
Shall I take pride in the times I quit --
because I realized to choose my battles wisely?
Take in my pain, my sorrow, my suffering
Death is not the end of me
It is the beginning of my journey to a homecoming
Where my Home is
Pain is no more
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
Flashbacks of a confidant fool
Flying through life with out any rules
Headlong into danger
The adrenaline rush is an intoxicating flavor
Thoughts of past injuries are nothing but flashes
As quickly he dashes
With those famous last words on his lips
WATCH THIS!!!!
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
I have a dream! I have a dream,
To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King,
I have a dream! I have a dream!
To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring.
Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment
The world turns out to be bitter,
To all of you, I write this letter.
To create a world relieved from these and turn better.
I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool,
Searching for the right tool,
You turned the world with full of mess,
People are left with nothing less.
To the world, you gave theories,
Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries,
About your theories, you boasted,
It has created a few ruling and bloated.
Most of you worked as economic hitmen,
Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen.
To the realities, your theory is distant,
Served no solution to the dying peasants,
To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants,
Tuned our lives to a depended migrant.
With your development lecture,
You have killed the entire nature,
In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture,
Hunted and looted our generations’ future.
We lived a self-reliant community,
You killed us with imposed liability,
Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty,
The word that remains imagination still is equality.
We lost our humanity and identity,
In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity,
Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility,
We finally became a society, filled with atrocity.
Your useless lectures of development,
Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment,
For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement,
So, now for you instead, we make a replacement.
To my questions, you neglected and ran,
In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man,
To you short-sighted range,
I say I will bring in a change!
Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer,
A day will come, where you will stand to answer,
Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions,
This will be my lifetime mission and ambition.
I say with all my limited experience,
I will put a test to all your conscience,
Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand?
With people will you always stand?
I am not an economist,
I am neither an egotist,
I proclaim! I proclaim!
I am a revolutionary economist,
I know you will fit me a label,
I am sure I will be an economic rebel,
A rebellious economist.
I dream a world without huge inequalities,
I dream a world free from imposed liabilities,
I dream a world without poverty and disparities,
I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
A broken vase, angles jagged
With sharp protrusions, fingers
Barely holding, splinters
Unglued, finely balanced
Pieces lying one on another
Holds shape together, barely
Slightest tremor, injury
It all threatens to shatter
Vessel has its supports gone
The structure has no resilience
Absent lustre or brilliance
Shards in spotlight glisten
Why not glue the vase back?
Why leave dangerous pieces?
Painful protruding edges
Waiting to shatter or crack?
Fixing glass means danger
Can create injuries and worse
Injure self, injure others
And vase can break further
So, hold collective breath
And leave the shards askew
Meanwhile, dangers rue
Resolved only upon death
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
Compelled by calamity's magnet
They loiter and stare as if the house
Burnt-out were theirs, or as if they thought
Some scandal might any minute ooze
From a smoke-choked closet into light;
No deaths, no prodigious injuries
Glut these hunters after an old meat,
Blood-spoor of the austere tragedies.
Mother Medea in a green smock
Moves humbly as any housewife through
Her ruined apartments, taking stock
Of charred shoes, the sodden upholstery:
Cheated of the pyre and the rack,
The crowd ***** her last tear and turns away.
2.9k
I never had many friends
I was always late to school
Ate lunch alone
Maintained grades pretty well
Graduated
Lived at the same place
Moved schools to a 3 year middle time
Became captain on a basketball team
Maintained grades pretty well
Heart Broken
They took my dreams
They threw them down
Past my knees and below my feet
No school no school no school
Good grades and school dreams shot down
From there even after some injuries
I went downhill
Like I did when I gained a concussion
I fell and smacked the floor
Point blank like a gun at a shooting range
High school in black and white
No friends and only anxiety attacks
No more sports teams or good grades
Skipping class my attendance was doomed
Moving along as if hurdles were in my way
Hospitalized twice and almost once before
Scarred waist and black decay
Tear stains throughout the night
When I could only lay awake
Words trapped inside, my mouth a cage
Summer smoking gone by now in 10th grade
Two attempts
Sleeping day and night
No attendance period throughout the day
Grades and mind slain
Semesters slipping away like life
Passed one regents of which previously I failed
Grades go in I start trying again
I attend full fledged new meds
Passing grades like a miracle
Slowly falling behind
Broken thoughts along the night
Slipping away like the shadows in the light
Stopped going to school again
But why? I feel no pain
No grades nor attendance
No improvement no getting out of bed
The meds aren't helping
I only feel, there are no thoughts in my head
Ruining my future must repeat 10th grade
Getting worse no emotions
Going back to the way I was before
No friends no trust
Regret fills my veins people are going away
They must know that I'm not immune to all pain
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 9:31 PM UTC
The infinity of lights made her feel infinite
Safe
Like all the light would drive out the dark in this glowing city
One
She was as vast as the vast city around her
New York
Chicago
Seattle
all
or
None of the above
Dream World
Safe
Safe enough to jump
Not really to jump
Maybe more to fly
The fear did not affect her action
In her hazy dream world city
She could fly she thought
She places her feet on the slippery unforgiving iron
Stepping Up
Looking Down
The fear was still not there
This was not a suicidal act
She wanted to jump
Not so much to jump as to fly
King of this concrete jungle
The ***** of the heart
The pulse of the hand
The breathlessness
The final step
Shes soaring now
Shes falling now
flying:soaring:floating
falling:flailing:breaking
you won't break yourself if you believe you can't
There's the confliction
The child that believes she can fly
The grown girl who lays broken to die
Her body is broken like a cartoon
Like Wile E cayote after falling off some boulder
There was a whole body
There was not
blood
guts
or reality
Hazy dreamworld city
In this flowing capital she beams with a twisted sense of perseverance
She sustains no injuries
Like tripping on those uneven breaks of pavement
They say you're never supposed to sleep through the falls in the falling dreams
The pit of the stomach
Winded
Clammy
Punched in the stomach
Falling Dreams
Yet she did
Why was the fear not there?
It was not in her sleep cycle
not on top of the skyscraper in hazy dreamworld city
She saw her broken body rise to life
Why could she sleep through the fall?
And the next sky scraper she fell from
...Not in hazy dreamworld city
...Would she walk away?
Was she jumping from the money that built that skyscraper?
Or the classic Freudian symbol, dream specialists might contend
Translation of one image onto another
So I was jumping away from men
Commitment
What's new?
Spend money and time
Loose friends and crime
Jumping away from reality
Soaring now
Falling now
Falling into the flowing light of the hazy dreamworld city
As flies will always return to fluorescent light bulbs, naive
Like if she got close enough to it
She would become it
She would consume it
The light would consume her
Illuminated
The dark expelled to the smallest corners of this earth
flying in this hazy dreamworld city.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC