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Matthew J Dourow Jul 2014
sip...sip...sip...sip...sip
still too hot, I say to myself
sip..sip..sip..sip
finally cool enough
time to drink the warm elixir
in no time, there is nothing left
I rise to reach
pouring till there is nothing, dregs
even this is too hot
wait...wait...
wait...wait...
finally I may drink
till there is nothing, dregs
lazily floating in my cup
as lethargically as a resorts lazy river
again I rise to reach
there's is nothing left, to show now
but my shaky hands

maybe I should have made tea instead...
Seriously....  It's Explicit!*



You walk towards me
Slowly, seductively
A look in your eyes
I haven't seen in a while
Like you're already ******* me
Little do you know
I've already undressed you in mind
A thousand times today
You lock your lips with mine
Making my tongue and soul go numb
I close my eyes tight
Letting the feeling wash over me
I go weak, start to fall
You wrap your arms around me
Oh so right
You taste like beer
I've never liked beer
But on you, tastes like I could drink it forever
With our tongues still dancing together
I feel your hand slip under my shirt
To the small of my back
You trace little hearts
Giving me tingles
I moan into your mouth
You growl, squeezing me tighter, kissing me deeper
Oh! and I can't help myself
My hands crawl up the front of your shirt, scratching and pinching your pecks
You pull away, I almost cry
You smile and take your shirt off
"easier access" you say
I say "well, that's not fair" while I take my shirt off too
The way you look at me, I'm enthralled with you
It's like you're devouring me but I'm feasting on you too
Every inch of skin,
Even that **** tattoo
Wow, I get lost looking at you
You grab my hand guiding me to the bedroom
You try to gently lay me on the bed
But I have other plans
I push you against the nearest wall
Locking you there with my body
Kissing you even more passionately
And deeper than ever before
You've got me so in the mood
I can feel you now, through your jeans
Rock hard, this must be a dream
But I don't care, I have to taste you
I grab you there, look into your eyes, licking my lips and whisper "may I?"
You growl again and nod your head
I trail kisses down your chest with my tongue
While unbuttoning your pants,
Unzip you and ****, there it is
I'm salivating and it looks so devine
The first lick, you moan and growl
I know you're mine
I taste every inch, swirl my tongue around the tip
I feel you writhing and pulsing under my hands
Your moans grow louder, giving me so much pleasure
You wrap your hand in my hair, pulling, ****
I love when you do that
You pull me off of you, reluctantly I allow it
You drag me to your mouth for a wet, rough kiss
I melt
I wonder if you think you taste as good as I do
Magically, somehow, you undo my bra
You stare down, smile, then start to kiss and nibble on each peak
"*******" I say and actually giggle, but I go weak
You know it too, laying me down on the bed
"are you wet?"
I nod, thinking I have been since before we even started
You kiss me, so softly
While your hand finds its way inside my *******
You hit that spot, I grab your arm hard, moaning into your mouth
You pull back saying "you like that?"
"**** Yea"
I raise my hips so you can take my pants off "easier access" I smile
You touch me,  tease me while slowly pealing my pants off my body
I'm shy, I close my legs together,
You start kissing my thighs,
My Oh My!
I can't help but open and let you in
You taste me, the first touch of your mouth on me,
I practically scream in ecstasy
You slide up my body, with your tongue
I'm surprised I haven't come
I'm done, I'm officially yours
Never has it felt this good before
I'm in pure heavenly bliss
You tease me with the tip of your ****
While giving me a most dangerous kiss
I moan, scream, so loudly
When you finally enter me
****, you fit so perfectly
"oh ****"
I explode almost instantly
You smile at me
"I'm just getting started"
I whisper "****" I'm too weak to speak
Then you slowly move in and out of me
I wrap my legs around your hips,
Almost lethargically
You whisper in my ear "bliss"
Then give me the most gentle kiss
I can't take anymore, I've had enough
I may be a sweet girl, but in bed
I like it rough
I use my legs to push you in deeper, harder, faster
My hips grind into yours
We're sweaty, but I don't care
You move up a little higher
"Oh My God!" I scream "Right There!"
You stop, I moan
You pull out, I know what you want
To **** me from behind
That's fine
You flip me over, grab my *** real hard
You push into me, it's deeper this way
I start moaning and screaming
I can't help it, you're ******* amazing
You pull me back by my hair
I balance myself with my hands on the wall
I scream "harder, faster"
You happily oblige me
I hear you moaning, louder and louder, you're in ecstasy
It's a **** fantasy
"oh my god, I'm coming!" I scream
You instantly explode inside me
While I squirt all around you
You pull my hair so tight and kiss my back
Sending shivers down my spine
We fall to bed, tangled in each other
After a few moments you whisper
"Now, you're mine"
*coughs*
Well....  Ummmm...  Ya.... I had a dream
Here it is
Enjoy
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2018
Fill the hollow crevice of my existence
With light, show me a warmer way
Stop numbness from taking over
I am slipping further0 into dismay.

Down the senseless pit of despair
My direction is out of control
Darkness paralyzes my mind
Strangling thoughts that crawl and roll

Constricting my body until I give up
I kick the air but cannot land a blow
The empty space will never stop resisting
The sound of my own scream has become my foe.

The endless void swallows my voice
Here the tears I cry fall forever
The lies I have told mean nothing now
I knew my will was always meant to sever.

Faced with nothingness all around
This is my life; a ******* hole
It's slowly shoving me outwards
Little by little, pain taking over my soul.

Chaos has reality gripped
In a tight but unsure grasp
Confusing the mass of color
And motion contained in its clasp

Bullied by the tidal wave of isolation
Head above water though it is strong
Giving up the ability to move
Surviving by the current floating me along.

My consciousness is traveling lethargically
I no longer feel my torso or limbs
Attempt to wiggle a finger but it won't budge
It takes all my strength to speak and part dry lips.

This is where existence ceases
Where time's beginning meets its end
An unending loop of monotonous emotions displayed
A breif instant in which Eternity life does suspend
This started as how I felt when I was crippled by heartache and doubt but switched lanes kinda. It's random I suppose. But it sounds pretty.
Nick Strong Feb 2015
Pots, coiled ropes, orange, blue
Laid, at the harbor side, waiting
Waiting, for the tide,
An old fishing net, laid on the concrete,
A weathered sunburnt fisherman,
Sitting quietly repairing holes within holes
Birds perching patiently on the harbor wall,
Waiting
In the distance the sun dips towards the horizon
Casting a light over a returning trawler
The birds lift lethargically from
Harbour perch, beat their wings , wheel
Towards an incoming meal ticket
Again, from vivid childhood memories living in a Small Scottish fishing town
Bonni Nov 2013
Gazing past my somber expression
etched upon the windows reflection.
Silently observing the snow's caress
soft, fragile, cold, much like myself.
 
Kinship is shared,
as I gaze out from my window,
observing them cascade,
caught in a moment of limbo.
 
I, just an insignificant snowflake,
weak, insubstantial, easy to break.
Diminished by even the softest touch,
transforming, melting, to lamented sludge.
 
Many will cast eyes upon my silent fall
but with a millions others, I am too small.
Tranquilizing, a melancholy presence,
lethargically dropping in evanescence. 
 
Some may glance and discover elegance 
but rarely can they withstand my elements.
mvvenkataraman Mar 2010
Being lazy digs a huge grave
For our peace and won't save
A lazy fellow is never brave
He is to fate a submissive slave

Taking action he will shun
Success shows him no affection
God gives him no protection
He belongs to the losing section

A lazy man gets no sweats
Tears become his constant assets
He uses buts and loses guts
He is depressed for lack of outlets
    
He lies lethargically in his bed
To be passive, thinks his head
Mentally he is almost dead
His is a very negative blood

Great chances he regularly misses
He is deprived of victory's kisses
A working mind, he does not possess
He never gets success as a bonus

His brain is so lazy *** idle
Everything is to him a riddle
He is afraid of every hurdle
His life, fate will finely meddle

Work makes him fear and faint
Gloom only his thoughts paint
Against him accumulates complaint
His mind, laziness will strongly taint

Progress tells him good-bye
He is an unattractive guy
His life-river is ever dry
Only laziness, he can supply

Idleness may be initially jolly
But it is not at all holy
Angels like it not wholly
Unless he starts a venture newly

If laziness is away kicked
Losses can be wisely licked
If laziness is wrongly picked
By fate, lazy man is tricked.


M V VENKATARAMAN
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
I'll be the slumpy man
caught on the clotheslines in the wind
strung out on powerlines
graced by the company of crows
and the circling buzzards
all hungry for my eyeballs

I'll be the slumpy man
hung over the sofa
draped across recliners
trying to dry out
before my braincells die out
trying to stay awake and sober
blushing prince Sep 2018
silk blouses and cotton underwear
the nights merge into a sticky soup that falls into the pocket of a sweater i was wearing when they said that death is permanent
the voice echoing into the receiver of my first cell phone
the wavering tremble of someone in the middle of realms
sleep and consciousness turning the other side of the pillow
wondering if the smoke in my lungs felt comfortable
wonder if the moon sinks lower into your backyard
i was never good at distinguishing shadows and when i found myself on the dark side of the mattress;
my feet cold and feeble i wondered if you could hear my heart a thousand miles away
the fluttering of a drowsy bird, lethargically dragging it's clumsy wings into the plummeting stifle of open air
you said my lips were like the halves of a plum
i bit them until they bled but it was never as sweet
it was never as sweet
there's irony in the title
Sydney Victoria Dec 2012
It Was A Warm Spring Day,
In Our Downtown Home,
White Paint Was Lethargically Pealing,
Off The Siding Which Lay Beneath Curling Vines,
I Still Remember Your Smile Daddy,
Your Coal Colored Hair Lingering In The Breeze,
As You Asked Me, "Do You Wanna See?"
I Nodded Not Quite Sure What I Was Going To See,
You Gently Lifted Me Up,
Put Me On Your Shoulders Like You Always Did,
And Let Me Peer Inside A Forest Of Vines,
And What I Saw Both Frighted And Enchanted Me,
Something Completely New,
A Little House Wren Who Cradled Her Eggs,
And Looked At Me,
Her Heart Beating Quickly,
"She's Protecting Her Babies," You Whispered,
"Just Like I'll Always Protect You"
"Hi," I Said And Held Out My Hand,
The Little Wren Flew Away And I Sobbed,
"Why Was It Scared Of Me Daddy?"
"It Was Only Letting You See It's Eggs"
Dad, I Dont Know If You Remember This, But I Do:)
Tanner Bryan Dec 2012
Birthdays are for nostalgia
and Kings of the desert
Like Moshe, Jesus, and Xander the Great
who came and saw and tried too hard
to mend some ever important scar
that much too late had been
left too long
to settle in the pyramid of our sleeping parts

Birthdays are for reading Hart Crane
and in his fashion, an attempt to become
indiscriminate as the wind that turns the weather vane
atop the roof where snow may fall
in an imagined winter,
lethargically covering all
in it's bitter farewell to Fall
as its grave-site is buried
by the Winter who loved it most enthralled

Birthdays are for thinking about you
The voice that remains
inside and always before the lights go out
and it's the end of my day
It's there, indiscriminate and howling
just like the wind that turns the weather vane
or the imagined winter
that only falls on my nearest window pane
in the pyramids that sleep beneath my very veins
Wolf Dec 2013
it was a dry mojave afternoon,
with crows cursing shrilly
the streetlamps bearing broken bulbs
and the striped cat sleeping in the sun.

the wind drew frantic breaths,
exhaling dead leaves over the hill
and sending the blackbirds
spiraling into the sky.

a lizard stirred, somniferous almond eyes
gazing lethargically over his rock
and at the old man on the porch
leaning back- impossibly uncomfortable in his rickety wooden chair.

his name was Jackson.
gnarled gray hair mixed with gnarled gray beard
appropriately framing a pinched, ornery visage
and tattered clothes adorned his whisper of a body.

it was his sixty-fourth year here in the desert-
on the fifty-second he'd lost his wife
on the fifty-eighth he'd gained a kitten
named him Waldrop and let him **** the mice and lizards.

'sixty four years is a long time,'
a thought murmured in the back of his head
eyelids peeling back to give a cursory glance to Waldrop
who was stalking the reptile watching him.

he remembered his twentieth birthday
when Edna had first said she loved him
and he remembered that glorious July morning
where she said she was his forever.

he remembered the pain of labor
down in the factory,
and the camaderie with his fellows
chewing tobacco and cursing the bosses.

he remembered the time spent weeping,
but remembered more the time spent laughing
in places miles and miles away
that now seemed imaginary.

exhaustion echoed through tired bones
and he wondered who would feed the cat,
drooping eyes closing one last time
to await the warmth of sunset.
Edward Coles Jun 2013
The world is fast and reckless
Like a stampede of beasts and
Teenage ***.

We traded smog
For the roar of the city and
I am then reminded of my mobile life
Before atrophy set like plaster
In my bones.

Similarly, I lived above a bar,
And the roar of the crowds
Was compensated for
By the free drinks I would receive
To placate me,
To deafen me.

I remember heading out to the office
Already half-cut
Even before the banks had opened.

I remember everybody walking,
Not because the roads were too crammed,
But because it was so.

It was so, it was so,
And now that excuse is just not good enough
Anymore.

Neither am I.

I still walk the streets
And stop by outside windows.
It takes me a little longer these days
To read the signs and labels,
The mating rituals of the merchants;
Buy me, buy me, buy me!

They remind me of the girls I see these days,
The ones who live in semi-agony,
Lactic acid in their muscles and
A lack of sugar in their blood.

The way they walk so consciously nonchalant,
Impostered hair dragging in the wind,
Just living for the double takes
As they pass the men in the streets.

Nobody courts anymore.
Hands are held far too easily
And intimacy seems to me to have become
Just another commodity.

I remember my sweetheart.
The years we lived in absences,
Sleeping between lies and compromises
And lying awake at night,
Our bodies spent as our cheeks sunk into our pillows.
Our eyes staring past the darkness of the room
And beyond to something, somewhere,
Far from where we found our lives had laid.

I remember her so well, my dear coffee bean.
How desperate the years were
When we were apart,
Living out our lives and
Exchanging platitudes for company
In our loveless marriages.

I remember how bitterly disappointed I was,
To be bounded to the forever decreasing circles
I had to move within each day.
And I remember, so exquisitely remember,
The day I broke from them.

And we met.
We met over letters,
Recited by our eyes and written by the hands
Of our desires. Oh, the saliva of the stamp
Bringing us to a closeness
That was unbounded by geography.

These days,
Nobody understands the thrill of the postbox
And the dependent trust
You had to invest into the postman.

Nobody.

The welcome mat is now nothing
But a place to wipe the **** from your shoes
And to kick the bills away
From your footfalls.

It was once a pigeon hole,
An inbox and a faceless meeting point
For all of your dearest allies.

How I recall the excitement of the morning,
My sleep thinned to prepare for the slap of papers
And the return of my silent darling’s words.

Yes, today that has all gone
And so has she.

How I miss you, my dear
And the snort of your laughter.
How I miss counting out your imperfections;
Each another reason to love you
And to love you more.

Now that you are gone my darling,
My life is little more than an emptied school
In the endless weeks of summer.

I lie in wait, coffee bean,
For each time you appear, a phantasm
In my day. I wait for those special moments
Where I assume you will be sitting there,
Ageing with irrefutable brilliance
In the chair you so stubbornly frequented
Every day of our retirement.

I’ll take the hit that comes with it.
I’ll accept the come-down
When I enter the room
And realise
That you are even less than a ghost,

A passing thought
That decays instantly in the air.

And the air darling,
The air is filled with noise in these streets.
Do you remember when you and I would stop
And listen to the busker by the bridge?

I do.

I think he is gone too now,
Though sometimes I still hear his music
As I pass above the river.

Now, I live on in near-silence.
It has been weeks since I last spoke to somebody
Who did not rush me through my sentences.
And so I’m learning the patterns of today
And instead bow my sad head
And just pay up for my goods.

I avoid home mostly.
It is okay once I am inside it,
But it is the returning that I am afraid of.

So I mostly walk the streets,
The same route each day,
Until darkness or hunger delivers me,
Confused at my door.

I stumble lethargically to the television set,
The one we bought together for our first apartment,
Do you remember?

I turn it on quickly to **** the breathless silence.

Now, whenever I do get to talk to somebody,
I feel my eyes blur to tears
For some inexplicable reason.
Oh! The ache in my guts

How often I must swallow panic
And all of those pills that do not work.
Instead they just fog my mind
And distort all of the anchors
And features in my life.

Even the television will shout at me.
Everything I watch is an advert,
And the news is getting uglier with each day.
Sometimes I will turn on the radio,
But music isn’t music anymore.

And so I’ve learnt to read above
The din of gameshows and the gunshots
From dramas full of anger and devoid
Of love.

I’ve learnt to read again,
As we did together in the warmth
Of the crackles that interceded
The crooners that used to play through the grooves
That my life is once again set between.

At times I feel I am the only reader left in the world.
That all authors write for myself,
Vying for my attentions.

Nobody reads anymore.

Though the depravity between us
Made our love all the more sublime,
I must admit I regret those absent, wasted years.

How wonderful it would be now,
To see your features mixed with mine
And hidden behind the faces of our children.

I would give all that I am,
Which admittedly is not much anymore,
To be able to see the pigments in your eyes
Again, in whichever form they took.

How I would kiss our daughter’s hands
If they resembled your’s.

How I would weep into the shoulders of our son,
If he resembled your heart.

And so now my darling,
I wander these thoughtless paths like a machine.
And though I look out at the opulence
Of the city streets, I am instead
Just walking through a memory,
Or some old doctored flicker show,
Where I cut out all of the ugliness
And leave just us.
The black night’s ebbing tide
erased the only remaining hints,  
the cresting long ocean swells
did not cleanse without a trace.

Adrift and lethargically bobbing
seaweed entangled teakwood box
of water-logged photographs, drowning,
surrendered from the heart of the sea

Like molted wild feathers cast ashore with the tide
to the coarse specks of rasping  sands,
Darwin's dream in an emptied  sea-bubble popped,
dissipated into its own haplessness,
bestrewn about an untrodden seashore  

Washed out snapshots of life’s disregarded minutia  
enchained to an ordinary forgotten Kodachrome moment
left out to the consequences of the ever fickle tides,
abandoned happenstance spilled by chance
upon another undiscovered world

The warped and bloated wooden box encasement,
hoary with swollen furrowed woodgrain s,  
wearied by an enduring measureless moment adrift;

as if an ill-fated message in a misbegotten leaky bottle,
corked with marooned good intentions,
and images of disappearing dreams
flung out shipwrecked in barnacled azure glass
beneath a sky so far away


*someone you used to know
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Snow Glitters In The Early Morning Light,
The Frosty Tears Of Angels,
Change The Land--And With It--The Creatures,
Stargazers Stare Blankly At The Sky For Answers,
The Cloaks Of Shadows Dip Into The Trees,
Holiday Trees Loom In Windows,
Promising Happiness,
But Screaming Voices Pierce Transparent Glass,
Frightening The Creatures In The Forest,
Snowflakes Lethargically Fall,
They Stare At Themselves Floating To Earth,
In Golden Irised Eyes,
Enchantment Holds A Heart In Soft Palms,
A Soul Kissed By Smooth And Pure Lips,
A Vacant Feeling Being Filled,
A World In A Sub-Conscious Mind,
More Rewarding Then Conscious Activity,
A World Of Dreams,
A World Of Good,
A World Of Truth,
Don't Make Me Leave,
This World Of Enchantment
Susie Nuttall Apr 2013
No more time for pain.
Tear stains.
Or sobs.
Shrieks at the top of your lungs!
Frustrated fidgeting,
Or furious dialect.
The true depths of sorrow,
unreached yet,
Shall remain unexplored.

The heights of fury and rage,
Shall be another days venture.
(Or hopefully never).

Visions of disliked visages,
Traitorous touches torturing the thoughts,
Lustily leaving lover and friend
Twitching,
Writhing,
Boiling,
Melting,
Rotting,
And congealing into a puddle of humanity
at the knowledge of their philandering.  

Numbness sinks through the dermis,
Hiding hints of heartbeats,
Silencing skins sweet sensations.
Breathing,
But barely.

No time for sensation,
Emotion,
Expression,
Interest,
Thought,
Muttering,
Mentioning,
M­urmuring,
Meditating.

Reform some semblance of humanity.
No time for languishing,
Luridly,
Lethargically,
Liquefying.

Only enough time for a little poetry.
And then,
Hopefully,
Life.
Sydney Victoria Oct 2013
It's Rainy Again. The Four Day Storm Is Lethargically Pulling It's Rain Filled Belly Across The Sky. The Air Smells Of Crispness And Decaying Leaves; Dampened By The Warm Droplets Of Water Which Collected Upon Them. The Clouds Cast A Gray Shadow Among The Mist Filled Air, Making Even A Smile Seem Somewhat Gray And Tasteless. The Dawn Is Quiet, The Retreat Of Songbirds Evident, The Scent Of Fall Prominent; Clinging To My Clothing. My Eyes Linger, Tracing The Rigid Edges Of The Storm Above. The Masculine Brim Of The Thunderheads Reminded Me Of The Storm Inside Your Eyes, One I Have Witnessed Many Times. One I Have Danced In, Took In, Loved You In. Though Now, Only A Drought Lurks In The Borrows Of My Soul, For You And Your Storm Have Deserted Me, Leaving Nothing But A Calm And Tangible Gray.
This Is Just A Short Freewrite From My English Class. I Decided To Post It Because I Have Been Absent. Hope All Has Been Well!
Meagan Moore Jan 2014
On wet sand
my own hand lethargically drags index nail into unplanned pierced hearts

The deep blue babble froths
disparaging echoes spume in unison

moon lumen
proffers effulgent glints of my own frame

Imprecise recollections
Intone lackadaisical exhalations

Plunging my fist into the dune
I seek shells to listen to mottled heart

None found
I drop my curls onto the punctured heart
Listening to the ocean’s instead
I briefly stood outside her shelter until I heard her gentle voice speak to me, inviting me to come inside.
For me it was a simple yet cautious request, seeing as how we had never met.

I put forth my trust in her and slowly parted the silken drapes as I entered.
“What is it you seek?” she asked.
“I was told to appear here.”
“Who sent you?”
Hesitantly I replied,
“I did.”
Her lips formed into a cunning smirk, indicating her willingness to offer me a temporary sanctuary.  

I told her that I was on a vision quest.
She smiled and replied, “Well then, let this be the first of countless enlightened moments for your mind, body, and spirit. Let me guide you into a fleeting realm of pure bliss. Do not be scared, my dear.  Close your eyes, and grant yourself total freedom.”

I scaled the highest, steepest peaks only to lean over and fall into the bluest of seas, tasting the salt my body unknowingly craved for.

I further descended into the sweltering valleys, ceaselessly chasing the echoing screams of Aphrodite.

I swiftly shot white, porcelain arrows into the rhythmic, beating sun, causing it to explode and pull me forward into the world I had momentarily withdrew from.

I lethargically parted the silken drapes and ventured off.
I would soon return.
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Scars Masking My Flesh,
Fate's Talons Are Sharp And Ruthless,
They Aren't Afraid To Make You Bleed

My Heart Deflated,
Dreams Sedated,
I Thought I Made It,
But It Was Just Hallucinated,
Thought I Made It Past The Guns,
But When I Came Up To You, You Held One,
I Started To Run,
But You Shot Me Down,
You Cut My Lips Making A Permanent Frown,  
Now There Is A Surreal Pounding In My Crown,
As You Try To Make Me Accept Your Apology,
You Yelled And Abused,
You Left A Me With Some Bruses,
And A Permanent **** On My Heart,
You Hungry Ghost,
In Ways You Were Crueler Than Most,
You've Added To My Collection If Battle Scars

Hope Slashed My Wrists,
And Sliced My Shoulders,
I Sit Here And Wonder,
When Will This War Ever End*

I'm Terrified,
But I'm Not Leaving,
I'll Fight In This Warful World,
Until I'm No Longer Breathing,
While My Heart Is Lethargically Beating,
I Will Clean The Wound Where I'm Bleeding,
So Don't You Dare,
Try To Defeat Me.....
José Vaca Sep 2020
I woke up this morning in an orange dystopian world. An eerie darkness filled the room as a faint rusty glow bled through the blinds. Profound silence swept the streets and with it all forms of life vanished. My breath and the beat of my heart were the only things that reassured my existence. A viscosity that of molasses filled the air weighing down gravity itself, or at least it felt like it, as my body lethargically swam back towards the dark depths of the room. The curiosity within me sought external perspective so I dialed into the digital realm. What followed was disheartening to say the least. People from all over questioning if this was the end so nonchalantly, exposing the desolation that’s taken their lives hostage. I ask myself, how is it that we are so quick to **** ourselves? How is it that we’ve grown incredibly numb in a state of great psychological stress? I ask as the answer stares me in the face. Optical dopamine beaming into my cornea penetrating parts of me I thought only I had access too. Altered genetic code, altered state of mind, altered fabric of space and time, altered reality.

Still, I cling on to the utopian beliefs that veil my unwavering optimistic heart... and I pray.
Vanessa Marie Nov 2015
Oh what a life
Such beauty
why look at the sea of green grasses and leaves
each without haste to grow and become
just awaiting for your wandering eyes
they dance in the wind
trying to grasp your attention
the sun shines down to warm you
and embraces like an old friend
the wind comes to cool you
in a peaceful lull it whispers
the sky a striking blue
faint traces of pure white clouds
lethargically passing over head
oh but what you don't understand
is the gift at hand!
please look around
be grateful for that sun
and the wind and all these clouds
and all these green newly sprouted plants
because simply
its all for you
a little gift of peace
I'm so grateful for everything and especially natures gifts of beauty.
Zach Claycomb Mar 2013
Lying in my bunk,
the chattering teeth
sound like hail stones
bouncing off a tin roof.
But it's not hailing here.
No, not here in Hell.
Here in Hell it's putting down
a hefty December snow.
Since when does it snow
in Hell?

It's summer in Hell.
That must be when it snows
in Hell.


Outside,
warm tangerine glow
and circling spotlights,
like blood-driven sharks,
illuminate the dead sky.
Two chimneys tower
over the grounds like
erupting brick volcanoes.

I open the window
to capture a snowflake.
One wobbles lethargically
into my palm and crumbles
into white ash...

Arbeit Macht Frei...
Free as a snowflake
in the summer breeze
.
Daisy Chain Dec 2013
I only half do things,
Like washing a ***
With smears left at the sides.
So long as it doesn’t make me sick
Or take up space
In the kitchen or my mind,
Its good enough. Its clean enough.
I only write things
With a fraction of my heart
Sprinkled on a whole lot of obligation
Exasperated, reluctant movements
That scrape lethargically into words.
I love feeling the apathy fade
Into an apathy that’s deeper still
When I don’t care that I don’t care
And I can simply sit
And wonder, if one day I will.
Adam Mott Jan 2016
I burnt up on reentry
Circle diamonds, raining from my hands
Candied memories kept up with me lethargically
Sunburnt from too many feelings

I seem to see into the past
Must be these radio teleplays I hear when I fly
Foggy and fast
Falling is a more accurate term

Piano and guitar with which I rehearse
Leaning off the coast with a bottle of Crown Apple
Just peeking into states and times
With my ever solid monologues
And fondness for your hair
Hahahahahaha, indeed
Vicky Evans May 2016
Spindly supports elevate
Its be speckled body while thread
Outpours from the spiders portly
Frame. Swarms of prey

Bolt as the spider moves
Lethargically, still full from
Its earlier meal.
Thread ensnares the

Frangible flies in their
Cowering conglomeration.
One by one they are
Picked like daisies

On a school field,
Leaving the spider to sit
Back, content with his
Play for the day.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2014
Fishing on a pier
In midsummer haze
With my grandfather,
Out on a misted lake,
The blues of the waters,
Stirring, deepening blues
Of drizzled sky, we baited
Our hooks, lapping waves
Caressed the drowsy pillars
We rode and so, were reminded,
That there is one colour for both
Joy and sadness. Over slow time
Different fish appeared, bass, pike
Trout, hornpout, but mostly the rangy
Perches, scaly pugs of yellow-orange,
Like slabs of weighted, tiered sun, they
Fought on the reel with high crested spine,
A quiet, noble ferocity.

                             Later, moving lethargically
In the grey of our pail, like broken beads
Of water shed from the morning sun,
How I wanted to toss them all back.
In New England, “hornpout” is a local name for a catfish, it is also known as a bullhead, and horned pout.
Aethorn Dec 2020
𝐌ercury, don't worry if rage may succumb your mind; like you could go in flames and may put  yourself through excessive fire. Just remember that to move away from the inferno is always worth taking a risk.

𝐕enus, you don't have to be like them. You are glowing on your own. Dance with your own orbit and sing until the dawn.

𝐄arth, my love. You are a diamond. Bright, undestructible and expensive. Bringing fresh showers for the thirsty flowers.

𝐌ars, don't let yourself locked in with the eerie darkness that filled the room as the tarnished glow shed from the sun. Penetrate yourself with dopamine for your body doesn't lethargically swam back towards the dark abyss.

𝐉upiter, what is love if it's conditional? She gave you her heart thus, only sky can contain it. Hold her until the moon aches for you.

𝐒aturn, rings for sale! They're floating outside her atmosphere. Fancy rings and elegant attire! For she doesn't want everyone to judge her that she looks unprivilaged. Why is she like this? Afraid of the judgment and gossip that'll fly. Rings for sale! Rings are here!

𝐔ranus, when you lie next to him at night, do you feel the warmth? Is his smile have his own heaven or you speak through tears?

𝐍eptune, love will be here with it's swirling tides, long after we became unseen. Amour, drink my soul. Fill my body with sunrise that's mixed with green and blue. Clean thyself from the guilt of this unfair streams.
First try.
haley Jul 2017
Some days I feel the need to express
how I feel through words on a page
but instead I retreat, nonetheless,

to a darkness of solitude
where I tend to spend my time
concentrating on one’s fortitude.

Lethargically indifferent as I seem,
it is a façade that deeply masks
the emotions within my bloodstream.

The idol of being a helpless maiden
has eluded me of my reality;
For I keep myself barricaded in

this lonesome, desolate lair,
protected by my own unfortunate mind,
dwells as a pit of endless despair.

Shall I ever awake from such a dream
composed of awful, evil things
or is this, perhaps, the new regime?
Claude Mills Oct 2013
Sunlight leaks low in the West.
A line of brilliant gold clings to the horizon
And crowns the ancient peaks in forgotten glory.

Day is defeated.  Lethargically,
It slips from the sky like melting butter,
Like a bell-bottomed tear.

Declaring dusk, Indigo fills the air.  
Each sense becomes wrapped in a blue hush,
Broken only by the winds soulful cries.  

Colours deepen.  Infinity
Is exposed as night sprinkles her constellations
Like celestial dust.

The touch of cold stone pulls me home.  
Somewhere, a wild cat calls to the moon
And the chimney offers smoke to the sky.
ottaross Dec 2013
By the river I meandered
Where oily-black water runs silent.
Malevolently, it tears at the eroding bank
And dares me to walk more closely.

Under a twisted oak I ducked
Past ancient bark and sinewy branches.
Patiently, it awaits one who ducks not so low,
And harbours a dark enmity in the long shadows.

Around a silent bog I navigated
Mud occasionally ******* at my shoes.
Gurgling, it pulls lethargically at passing limbs,
And begs for a new visitor its fermented depths.
"Stolen Thoughts" project:
-First line borrowed from Olivia Kent's "Musing the Missing Link…"
Beth Dyck Nov 2010
The rain is falling gently from the water-laden clouds hovering just above my head.  The misty drops caress the red, yellow and brown leaves preparing for the last step of a year-long cycle.  
The clouds, with their heavy burden of wetness are sinking lower and lower, and coming to rest on the tops of the mountains, obscuring them in a fluffy blanket of white and gray.  A high-blowing breeze makes them creep along the treetops lethargically, as if they just want to sit and doze for a while but are unable to refrain from carrying on.  
There is a chill in the autumn air.  All around me, smoke drifts lazily from chimneys and mixes with the low clouds.  The aroma of wood fires mingles with the freshness in the air.  
Soft, peaceful music drifts towards my ears and through my soul.  Its a beautiful day!
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Right Below My Sternum,
Is A Hollow Cavity,
One That Was A Full Bucket Of Prosperity,
But Has Now Overflowed And Capsized,
I've Learned There Is A Limit To Happiness,
When You Feel You've Reached The Peak,
Of That Large Mountain You've Been Climbing,
And Realized It's Only Just Another Ridge,
Some Hope Abandons You,
Leaving You There,
Muscles Weak,
Heart Struggling To Beat...
But Hope.. Hope Never Fails,
Or Does It?
I Feel Like A Husk,
Of A Used And Eaten Nut,
The Hull Of A Rusty Ship,
Crashing Through Endless Waves,
In Life's Raging And Ever Changing Current,
What Shall This 9 Lived Vessel Do?
Confusion Lapping Lethargically,
On Serenity's Banks,
The River Of Relief Slowly Being Overtaken By,
The Icy Grasp Of A Hollow Soul,
A Rose Being Overtaken By Snowflakes The Size,
Of Crystalized Fists Of Water,
Forcing Itself To Smile, Stay Strong, Telling Others,
To Do The Same,
Telling Others That Everything's Okay,
To Not Lose Hope,
Even Though,
She Already Has
Sydney Victoria Jan 2013
My Eyes Shift Lethargically In My Skull,
The Film Black And White--And In Slow Motion,
Constantly Battered By Waves--A Ship's Hull,
Poison Whisking Through My Veins Love's Potion

Leather Gloved Hands Start Caressing My Skin,
Their Egos Trying To Grasp My Windpipe,
They Try To Pull My Close With Lament Grins,
They Tell Me Of The Emotional Hype

Well I Don't Want You! Can't You Just Leave!?
Black Smoke Cover's My Eyes And Screams In Strife,
I'm Begging You, I'll Use My Mannars--Please,
I'm Starting To Feel Cheated By My Life

Do You Listen To Me? Stop Using Words,
Stop Trying To Trap Me In Your Sorrow,
Is Your Guardian Angel A Flightless Bird?
Leave Today And Don't Come Back Tomorrow

Do Not Drown Me In Your Blackened Sorrow,
Leave Today And Don't Come Back Tomorrow
I Understand I Didnt Place The Feet Well.. I Could Care Less;) This Is To All Of The People Who Are Tired Of People's Egos
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2014
Fishing on a pier
In midsummer haze
With my grandfather,
Out on a misted lake,
The blues of the waters,
Stirring, deepening blues
Of drizzled sky, we baited
Our hooks, lapping waves
Caressed the drowsy pillars
We rode and so, were reminded,
That there is one colour for both
Joy and sadness. Over slow time
Different fish appeared, bass, pike
Trout, hornpout, but mostly the rangy
Perches, scaly pugs of yellow-orange,
Like slabs of weighted, tiered sun, they
Fought on the reel with high crested spine,
A quiet, noble ferocity.

                             Later, moving lethargically
In the grey of our pail, like broken beads
Of water shed from the morning sun,
How I wanted to toss them all back.
In New England, “hornpout” is a local name for a catfish, it is also known as a bullhead, and horned pout.
Abi Perry Aug 2016
Inhale 1-2
am I moving yet?
twisted,
misconfigured,
crossed wires,
short circuited communications from my brain to every part of my body,
aching to flee,
exhale 3-4
lying lifelessly,
limbs limp,
looking lethargically around hoping some way I can save myself,
Inhale
Sade LK Jan 2014
Everything tastes like a distant blue-
As I inhale a scent swimming in pools of gray.
The back of my mind crackles  and flickers
Within a dim flame of black and white.
The air is restricted to catch it's warm breath.
There is  hesitance and reluctant dissonance
Which is sweet like clean dirt.

Nothing to believe, nothing to be still, no one to bury me.
A quiet cold confronts quite disgruntled complications,
And contradicts a subtle faded thought.
All my brights and dulls caress my body
Leaving a film of dust and desolation to shelter my mind.
Ripples of confronted perfection penetrate my chest,
And life grows distant as I become colorblind.

There is no serenity in slumber.
I'm begging somebody to shatter me.
All of me is captivated in confusion, and summer's sun has set.
I'm steady staring at a world on fast-forward,
Standing still with eyelids stitched open, and lips sewn shut.
Nothing forgives or gives in, and
All that is symptomatic is synthetic and systematically copesetic-
Like the lackluster of lament which lingers  lethargically above me.

But when breath stops short and suspends in the air,
And nothing is to beckon or call it back home,
One finds themself empty, and free-
*And nothing matters anymore.
Written August 30th, 2010
Hadrian Veska Feb 2017
Shadows dance lethargically
Ever slowed by a waning fire
The sun has long since set
And I am unsure it will rise again

Soon too will the fire fade
And a great whirlwind
Come through the pines
To carry me away

Beyond the boundless night
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2016
.
Fishing on a pier
In midsummer haze
With my grandfather,
Out on a misted lake,
The blues of the waters,
Stirring, deepening blues
Of drizzled sky, we baited
Our hooks, lapping waves
Caressed the drowsy pillars
We rode and so, were reminded,
That there is one colour for both
Joy and sadness. Over slow time
Different fish appeared, bass, pike
Trout, hornpout, but mostly the rangy
Perches, scaly pugs of yellow-orange,
Like slabs of weighted, tiered sun, they
Fought on the reel with high crested spine,
A quiet, noble ferocity.

                             Later, moving lethargically
In the grey of our pail, like broken beads
Of water shed from the morning sun,
How I wanted to toss them all back.
In New England, “hornpout” is a local name for a catfish, it is also known as a bullhead, and horned pout.
.
Hadrian Veska Feb 2018
Who knows how long I listened
To the gentle crackling of both fire and page
As the shadows danced lethargically across the room
Quiet but not silent, my thoughts were clear
I was content for the first time in a long while
A fitting memory to store for the long journey ahead
Alan Brown Apr 2016
In the midst of a waning Thursday afternoon,
I observed the outdoors from my cozy nook.
Birds serenaded each other from the treetops,
Flapping theirs wings,
Playing in the cordial breeze.
A handsome red robin took center stage,
Usurping the cynosure of the garden.
Gracefully, he sauntered to the edge of an evergreen limb,
Released an emphatic chirp, and slid into the sky,
Becoming airborne.
Free.

Meanwhile, I gazed at the clouds lethargically.
I was anchored to the land,
Indentured to books and worksheets.
I wished that I too could flap my wings,
Be hoisted into the air by the breeze,
And venture into the clouds.
But this I did not endeavor.

Unknowingly, I contracted my horizons,
Preoccupied by the useless facts and figures,
I was oblivious to the world outside of my abode.
While others lived their lives and spread their wings,
I fell behind.
They found joy in clouds, while I,
A flightless emu,
Buried my head in the sand.

— The End —