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Caro Jun 22
I’m never ***** anymore
I used to drip onto the floor
My *** drive used to be more
My core
But I suppose, no, it wasn’t
Because it waned
I remained.
I miss being effortlessly wet.

I know, I know
It’s in my head
But maybe mostly it’s the bed?

Say, what is different about my bedding?
Is it that I had a wedding?
Now, linens my sister gave my husband and I
Sprawled beneath some other guy.

Is that what stole my soak?

It couldn’t be
Far too simple for my psyche

Who knows, maybe I’ll get wet for breathing.

Because, finally without a keeper my linens and me breathe easy.
zebra Jul 2018
like cellophane wraps hard candy
like ink loves to dry
like hot sauce drenches noodles
like sunrise casts shadows
like band-aids sooth cut flesh
like irons crease linens
like origami folds paper
like water floats boats
like a tempest loves a teapot
like syrup and bananas drench waffles
like spoons love soup
like cats love fish
like french fries love ketchup
like wild girls dance
like a crow loves road ****
like eyes love beauty
like a circle loves a square
like buttered buns fit a bikini
like a kissed mouth hungers for wet lips
like moths love a flame
like dogs love *******
and like ******* hug butts

like howling ******* pulse hearts
like vampires love blood and castles
like dark grapes ferment in bubbling cauldrons
like white loves rice
like madness loves a straight jacket
like a ***** loves a ****
and music gets you dancing

like suns fall through cobalt night all smashing diamonds
how i love you
trf Sep 2018
Spinning round a windy ledge,
i kiss the cross around my neck,
these fever dreams replace the likes of you.

Grinning into space, alone and lost,
the dampened linens lie,
     as i wake up,
     covered in fake love.

In my den the china white,
embraced my blood and laced my night,
an amuse-bouche of courses left to come.

The past three years I can't recall,
coulda been fun, but was it worth it all,
i'm a coma patient lacking an excuse.

is hard to come by,
are a stranger in my,
collude disguise.
lost my balance blinded by the darker truth
ren Dec 2015
You and I are piles of skin and bones
Wrapped in linens to protect us
From getting holes
I'll follow you through your ever venture
Blue eyes pierce me like the icicles we strolled past
As I fell marvelously in love with you
Golden tips to the nuts and bolts
Of a crying, perfect, hopeless disease
I'm calling this sensation what it is
(Remind me to tell you in the morning.)
Tom Spencer Mar 2018
On a thin ribbon of light
unfurled from unseen heaven
direct to her parted robe
and disquieted ear

comes an angel’s voice,
the dove’s winged companion,
with words foretold in the book
now slipping to the floor.

What hunger fires
our flickering imaginations,
that require Grace come
wrapped in velvet purses-

with proof of the child’s
purity dripping from tables
and prophet encrusted walls?
I think they had it all wrong-

Fra Angelico, Veronese, van Ecyk,
and even Martini with his
gilded apprehension.
I prefer a scene without

unblemished lilies-
no fine linens, puffing cherubs,
or embroidered pillows on display.
I picture her instead

at her daily labor- pulling
on a ***** rope at the village well.
With calloused hands, she
draws her trembling reflection

skyward, when, announced
by the slightest breeze,
a stranger appears.
Before their eyes meet,

a bird’s flight distracts her-
water splashes from the bucket
washing the dust from her feet
and soaking the tattered hem

of her robe. His silent glance
holds her only for a moment.
In the distance, a voice
calls out, “Daughter!”

She turns, sets off,
bowing to her burden.
A cloud’s shadow
melts in the heat of the road.

Tom Spencer © 2018
Poetoftheway May 5
she smells (nameless and shameless)

a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless

morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-a-little-closer-tasting for the summer solstice,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded

the first of the season red spot-stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are mostly gender identifiable

my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within, a ****** hallelujah,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt Nile of the basement waters

the burnt crumbs of illegal in-bed brioche toast
amazingly invisible on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed, was yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things (popcorn pieces)
is just a scratchiest fragrance too far,
needing a sheet wiped clean slate

even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
one of us makes a (vice) presidential declaration:

she smells, I man-ually stink, each,
each glower shower nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass aroma fresh cut,
to exhume and then send away
this odor now christened,

nameless and shameless

11:47 28/4/19
girl gonzo Oct 2018
morning dew drops on your collar
impressing me with the zealous way the seasons drastically measure the moment it takes me
to reach forwards and brush it off
liquid winter falling onto a ***** cement
the initials 'F T' written jaggedly into the cold stone of asphalt
i wait for it to disappear, for the flicker of everything gone to fade from my vision
but it passes too quickly
i look back up and there's no one around
the street is empty and the capricious wind has ceased
a sucker for patterns i walk into a fabric store and feel my hand linger on the erratic linens
fingers paused on the peach organza sprawled like a pink bubblegum sea
and i am swept into the manic fantasies of wearing the sheer tissue-like textile into
the abdomen of your sweaty palm and sinking like a sticky sweet stripe
until you put your hand in your pocket and i spend a year inside melting
into the every thread and curve of your jean until it is nothing but disgusting sugar
everything i could be when i am hidden from sight in the dark caverns of denim pants
who knew the tongue in cheek joke would be nothing but my tongue in your mouth
touching all the way up your gums  
find me sweltering beneath the uvula wondering if i could go back
to the time i found that girl with the mountain logo sweatshirt who whistled between her teeth and hummed all the reasons i should skin my knee and kiss the salty wound because there's no greater pleasure than knowing you don't have to wait for that morning dew drop to fall from their ******* collar
bythesea Nov 2017
which layer would you take away
to mold yourself now
to stop your shoulders from rounding
to stop yourself from losing
your heart.

which year would you burn,
who would you have slept with,
tied legs and arms with
in linens

which piece would you move. who
would you have loved harder
if you had the heart
and weren't bound this way
Cassidy Aug 2018
I dreamt of you the other day
I woke up with your scent lingering in the linens, where I laid
And my chest broke all over again, as it does
You could never love me again, love.
My weary heart has since used my body weary too,
And I am briars of what used to be a garden, owned only by you
Knit Personality Aug 2018
With sticks a-clicking,
   Bells ringing jingle,
And kerchiefs waving,
   The partners mingle.

Decked in their bravest,
   And eke their gayest,
They daunce like fairies:
   So too thou mayest!  

They've hats with flowers,
   Linens the whitest,
Baldrics like rainbows:
   Join them thou mightest!

With ribbons flying,
   Their foremost duty
Is dauncing gaily
   And being fruity.

Dark Fjord Nov 2016
To love,
To hope,
To these fire ambers,
And to all the
kelly green
For my love,
I left you there,
In Ireland.

There are two types of men,
Who pass me bye:
And those women with
Their babies
On their arms.
They were either beasts of the field
Or fools for the aire,
Crossing the sea –
Burning their own house down –

And to the time, we took them in
And to the time, we took to notice them
And to that runaway train
We began
We were armed on the line
at the stone church.

To our Irish grandparents
who Did too, on the old homestead
So none could go live there ever again.
And a black bird sad
Sang to the dead at night
We all were just waiting for
That moment again, to arise.

So here comes Johnny walker
And here he comes waling at these walls
Going about, walking about or
On a walk about…

If rather go walking
than to the front-line?
With these red stained linens
With lions and for our some crown
go Broken, for that is the only way home!

like that there: in Ireland…
like A cashbox in the field we just found!
likes for Ireland
Wk kortas Nov 2017
It was not, by any means, a loss of faith;
Indeed, her devotion was a boundless, unfettered thing
Beyond proscription, beyond rote chant and catechism,
And what she found as a novitiate
Were shuttered gates and gossipy confessionals,
Standoffish priests, pig-eyed and pinch-lipped
Sisters who thought life’s commerce
No more than mechanical prayer and spotless linens,
The whole enterprise
Smacking of the exclusion of Heaven’s bounty.
So she demurred when the time came to take her orders,
And she returned to the world of pavements and lesser pieties,
Free to seek God on park swings and barstools,
In pleasures of the pastoral and the profane,
Though her faith is no Dionysian walkabout,
As she is passionate to the cusp of maniacal
When it comes to the Book of James’ admonition upon works;
She is often found among the sisters she once tiptoed alongside
At food pantries and clothing drives
(She is scrupulous about ministering to only secular needs,
As the Bishop is not happily disposed towards those
Who choose not to take the veil,
And the specter of excommunication is a prospect
Too awful to contemplate)
Afterwards clambering onto some vaguely roadworthy MTA bus
Back to her studio apartment in Green Island,
Where she often walks down to the Erie Canal lock nearby,
Praying for those who have travelled  near and upon the water,
Convenience store clerks and ragged Irishmen fleeing famine,
Feral kittens and insufficiently mourned mules.
Jennifer Beetz Nov 2018
These fits come and go
and mostly I don't notice
the layer or two of skin
you took from me (although
I do want them back, along
with the linens and tea towels
and all of the more obvious

The ****** blade we hung
above the mantel and only
symbolically out of reach?

I want that back too, if
only to lick the blade and
have just one more miserable
moment with you
Upon the edge of tomorrow I sit, stars nestled beyond in the black,
illuminating the landscape to which I am bound,
And If I were to touch them I'd never come back;
for in the ***** of my yearning I'd surely be found
Foolish beast am I to languish in that which I lack
A curs-ed dreamer's quarrel between the soul and the mind
Whose venom makes sickly my flesh and my bone
A sin for which no man could ever atone:
To yearn for tomorrow putting present behind
Yet, just as white linens dance in a warm summer's breeze,
the temptress beyond puts my members at ease
And as she whispers of purpose; endeavors my core
I can feel a deep burning break forth from my skin
Reminding my body and soul that there's more,
a banished young exile screams out from within
Begging that only I lend him an ear
And his keen wisdom buckles the bend of my knees  
As he speaks of the future he hopes will draw near
Yes the edge of tomorrow, the temptress beyond
I crawl towards to your calling, the desire you've spawned
That flows like a fountain, cool waters so pure
A lust for this newness, your seductive allure
And the pain that it causes, i chalk up to fear
As I open my heart to your promise of
For dreams never spoke to a heartache so clear
Now I've broke from my shackles and torn off the ropes
For tomorrow my temptress and I shall abscond
A toast to new horizons
Yenson Aug 2018
Haters, haters, hiding in the closets, hiding in faeces
your putrid minds full of fears and all your weaknesses
You are not men but degenerates and cowards in excesses
but in your attempts to distract away from your deseases
Look the parents you have and you know you're like rat fleas
you lack a lot which makes you so angry and in pieces

Washing once a week on other days its wet towel on faces
smerge on stunted wieners never to be a winner at the races
You're un-cool all you do is pretend but you ain't got the aces
as charmless as chicken *** you're the left-behind in chases
Never had a true compliment because you have no graces
deep down you're a mess and petrified of background traces

You have ***** linens and bad secrets buried in bad places
you're nasty, think nasty and 've done things that debases
Always afraid you pick on your betters rocking in perfect places
full of inferiority complexes  real abilities get up your noses
You've wet your bed and at night  you knowyou're *******
playing macho when in reality you want to do men's *****

Nobody likes the faceless cowards and abject scorn they entices
partners and frenemies are there for themselves and free passes
They see through them and smell their weakness without paces
faking laughter at their hate and anger at winners they despises
Haters are sick sad losers miserable inferiors with dark devises
never happy, never content just slimy cowards in dumb disguises
Jessica Dec 2018
Anxiety is the enemy. You crumble and forfeit all of the good things that come your way.
You overthink
Thinking becomes a chore.
I’ll walk away
Over and over again
They’re not the only reason why I fall into my pillow at night
Saturating the clean linens with my tears
It’s my failures that shine through my fears
The pain you’re in reaches deep
and you no longer need my company
Now I’m suffocating, but happy
It’s unfair to assume I don’t care
When all I wanted was...
Minus the lingering feeling of despair.
I have handled pieces and fragments
of my fiancé’s skull as I plucked
them from my driveway and tucked
them in the bushes, put to rest

I have scrubbed the last ****** gurgles
Of stomach bile from the room
That your father died in, and the linens
That comforted and held him as he went

I have cleaned elderly poopie trails
Off the polished wood floors
As they wind their way to the bathroom
Where gramps is stuck on the floor, again

Is it too much to ask
For a little help with
the ******* dishes?
Im so tired of the one doing all the yucky things.
I am resin by the afternoon, all
Preserved sunshine and slowing organs
Sweet with vinegar and sugar saturation.
I’ve built another nation
From Worry Tonnage atop Gravity
Reserving me a view of
Sunsets escaping with my childhood.
I imagine my skeleton framing better
Tenants, maybe spinning linens from
Rhyme and bloodwork,
And new children reclaiming Time
From my fading glasses of wine.
I imagine my chest as this distended
Cathedral, the heaving ***** soaking
The rafters in ether
But then there are my eyes, keeping me on earth;

obsidem nativitater
Meg Pasnik Dec 2018
the gaudy grey of morning leaks,
the hot star following close behind.
like clementines in a market bag:
our weight pools inward.
sweat wicks into stained linens-
sticky skin, pressed back to back.
   good morning.
Matthew Sutton Aug 2018
There are conversations in which my mental frame leaves the
                               parameters of my body.

No longer can I fathom the concept of ‘being in love’
        I witness dates
        feel as an apprentice of such a trade might
        an inadequacy to replicate the models of those before me

Gone are my indefinite moments of sanity
        Childhood is laced in linens of silk
        Soft-spoken words
        Finely crafted spontaneity lacking responsibility

Ceaseless are the times in which I must conceal the thoughts I abhor
        Depravity seems to chain my soul
        which leads to
        a Resolution in pixelation
        due to
       a visual handicap which has left my eye blind to choosing right

My friends make me happy
        but as a glass transforms back-&-forth between half-empty &
        one glance across our wooden dinner is all it takes
My thoughts to liquidate into bars of gold
Telling myself I must exchange their conversation for my motivation
        heavy on the mind
        light keystrokes

Once i reawaken at 1 A.M. from my conscious-coma
i ask myself
What good is it?
        To be thoughtful
        Yet have no action
What good is it?
        To fantasize
        Yet refuse your own inclination for renovation
What good is it?
        To be dramatic
        Yet have no one at your performance

I do understand what it means to ‘be’

        Watching Tuesday suns burn in loops of ongoing weeks
                              -    lacking peaks    -
        As I continue to lay under clothes line
        Wrapped in a melody of melancholy

But I do not understand what it means to be ‘me’

        My mind feels as a lemon candy might,
        sour at first bite -
        hollow on the inside, then gone
        Without ever truly knowing what it tastes like.
Dennis Ayzin May 15
You swim in linens
                while your skin,
Is touched by blanket,
                lucky creature
you barely breath,
                you are …
                so thin,
the night’s awake,
its magic sweeper
picks worries, doubts and frustration,
the place for them, the destination
is not in dreams, it’s out there
with those who evil
        who don’t care

right now the night
        with all its power,
        all its might
protects you,
        standing guard
I am watching too
I’m allowed
To see your dreams
        their gentle flow
like morning haze
        they drift so slow
they give you comfort,
        and the time
sits next to me
        its touch divine
it shows me future
and the way
I dare not move
        I see the day
It edges sky
        On the horizon
with silver thread
        I beg …
Time looks away,
no compromising

we must adhere to rules created
to keep the balance in the world
I searched for you
        and I have waited
for many years, and I can hold
my dreams away a little longer
to put my arms around you
we passed the test
        and we are stronger
it’s only weeks, it’s only few
To Anabella
Jayne E Apr 4
With fickle Freddy Frosts first showing
and the rising of ******* and
limbs fine tactile hairs, laguna,
filaments of sensation *****
quivering and striving
stretching toward a now absent warmth,

she always did have her sunny side showing, bare legs tucked under her
buttocks, leaning back on her hands
under that big Totara tree, face tilting
skyward and sandals kicked aside,

searching out her brighter sunny day
even now, with leaves falling down
the autumnal mix of ambers
Loamy greens and wooded browns
the earth cool and damp underfoot
her naked legs, arms defiant, barely crying for freedom!

Shivered morn's and eve's descend quickly
winters first indicators bringing
a refusal to employ blankets
hope tightly clinging to summers
silk sheets from Portugal,
feather light, soft as air,
just how she likes her thread count
high and expensive, sumptous,
(her pedantic obsession with fine linens)
totally ineffectual as calefactor,
so, she shivers on stubborn as ever,
Stay summer! Stay!

Even her loyal steadfast cicadas
have fallen silent now, summers last guard fallen to shortened days
and longer lonelier cool nights,
it is now she starts to miss a warm body
companionship, a worthy bedfellow
one who will not protest her cold toes
vicious advances on their warmer flesh

The sacrifice well worth the reward
of her warmest, ardent affections
tender embraces and softly spoken
murmurings of love and passion,
her full surrender to your body
with hers, she gives good, good love,
both body and mined soul deep too.

The countdown to clocks pushed onwards
pulls a wustful sigh from blueish lips
she is underdressed, flimsy chiffon
on a day made for heavier cloths
persists with summer daydreaming
of warm strong hands restoring her joy
under cold nights cloaked bed covers,
hot stolen kisses from a winter lover.

J.C. "littlebird" 05/04/2019.
"I am only the maid!"
she will shout at him
then disappear for
a week
hunted down like
lean dog in winter
he always proffered
her a treat
and how could she
refuse? with hatred
she would show up
again to clean his
dishes and make
the bed,
until he got it in
his head, well, he
decided he liked
the maid and not
in the way she was
usually liked
which is to say he
was ***** (no, but
thanks anyway)
a week or two later
he tells her he's in
love and she bursts
out laughing, tells
him she's not 11
years old
she did have a lot
of bills, about 800
bucks worth, give
or take
O NO! (you see
it was love and love
is free), three more
weeks and he's
climbing the walls
reconsiders her
and his own
another day or two
he has made the maid
on the fresh linens and
all was pretty romantic
until he raised himself
on one elbow and blew
hot air in her face and
a hot load in her ****
he said, "You know
this isn't quid pro quo
..." and she answered
"Veni, vidi, vici...
(whatever gets
you off.")
and what a happy
woman was she
money new minted
in her fat purse
and this little piggy
went wee wee wee
all the way back
to Queens
Crossing the street
Hold my hand
From where you came
To where you are going
Hours demand
A fallen sacrifice
Your attention
Don't mention it
We begin again
To make amends
And mend our linens
Before we wash them
In public spaces
Shadows remove
Their spectacles
And let's be honest
With ourselves
Or at least
Aspire to be sincere
It appears that
Our mutual feelings
Are in arrears
These days
As leap years burn
Your holy garments
Old shirts are torn
From holes
Within our firmaments
Young brides must tackle
Insubstantial problems
Like how many  
Triangles are born
From uniting two
Hollow spheres
Yet to solve them
Must forever remain
Closer to impossible
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Something is
simmering  *  
His spice the stars*
His cologne heat up the
Lips and taste boiling
The Green Irish Tweed
Epicurean love at
the Italian
Spice Epic Stadium

Here comes the
Sun the__?
Royal Mayfair

My Fair Lady
The spice diction of words
Her name is Sage Lady Bird
You could feel her smile

Carnal spice knowledge
Savory animalistic
Spice culture ******
Citrusy fancy dress
Not to panic
His Sunday gravy
Italian sauce garlicky  
She could win so pungent
Spicy lady Pagent

The poor stealing the
rich culture
Sage surrender like the Oz
Like Robin Hood

Spice of life this is our life
Top of the sea salt Spy
You better have a love
Like a deep pouring
Her Sage Genie bottle
on the stove

Her sheerness lascivious robe

The Meditteranean sea with
Four leaf clovers
These cultures and eyes of
strength feature
There is no time to
break up for the love of a spice
Is this the human race
Fresh linens better company
What a primary
Oh! Hail Mary

Those ethnic spices
what a sensual smell
Sage pretty coffee cup show and tell
What a razzle top of her cake
The media takes over all
painted and swirled
Baked spicy finger she dialed

Through her locket heart sake
Recovered love reconciled
The Teddy Rosevelt or Chicago Bears
tight hugs of cultures

Hairy chest his smooth gestures
Culture rough and tough exterior

Like the smile beautiful mind
Beyond to be seen
The Spices computer
world of devices
Strawberry fields forever
But what is forever more love

Do we always lose our stripes
Feeling layered with her cereal
Tony the tiger
Whats great about curses
Sage speechless can feel the
roar spicy mouth
Going South or North
Victorian corset sensual
Guity spice dark side of Goth
Hot desire from both
The pine needles
Christmas time
The mistletoe kissing pointing to the star

Wearing herself out with her
pointed pump shoe*
But losing her spirit what to
*The Blue Horizon Spice Rub

The  pub the sky has no limits
to the Stars that twinkle
The Gods to their *****
Rip Van Winkle
Dry Vermouth or the Russian Roulette
French spice Crepe Suzette

"Adam I Apple Dante Jubilee
Eve was more like a neigh
Horse spicy slide Colonel Spicy mustard
Meeting General Lee Sage custard

Her handkerchief
with sage cut leaves
Hearing echoes what gives
Anyone's spice rack
of shoes engraves Sage leafs

Noone really knows for sure
She wore spice deep blue velvet
Jade Ring Brittish Colony
Stuck to her beliefs like a magnet

Eating vegetable and fish
Her best China ever find her dish

How the jade chandelier twisted
Became laughing like two musketeers
New York City love Serendipity
The Queen chair so domineer
'What Debutants"
Crazed like spices of mutants
The anger management getting
the evil out
The shoutbox strong clove spice
Sage was never outfoxed
Her **** jaded uniform
The firefighter Smoky the bear
  eyes of candlelight storm
didn't make it this year
Torn to tears like two
vultures of
the haunted night
He peddles fast
But the fear needs to disappear

Fresh lake smells fresh
as her breath
The culture and media
make tons of mistakes
She knows what she wants
Not a jungle of
poisonous snakes
He knows what he doesn't want
to tell her
Perhaps losing his
bark dog naps
The best part engage her on
Sage with a heart
The fruit her
flesh and blood
The blood on his finger
Her medicinal herbs
of China
The mason spice jar is empty
The full heart needs his half
Cream of the crop
Careless love accidentally
spice dropped
Sensual Chin like pine needles
The exception to the rule more leaders
Remember Every September
to leave your scent
We all have needs we want
Drinking all the flavors of Snapple
*Big waves of the ripple don't you
love her amazing dimples
Sage spice mighty divine but when its mixed love can be jinxed watch out. But just keep singing her "Sage way" her garden is magnificent in every way just pray
Mikaila Oct 2018
I tried everything
To break my mind like a sheet of glass.
I pounded with my fists.
It held, cold and unyielding,
And when I was spent it was exactly as it had been
In tact and undamaged.
Maybe this time will be different.
Maybe this time
When you go
I’ll put my fist through it like a mirror
And it will finally shatter and become a part of me.
I close my eyes, and dream.

I am in a ward, and it is empty and cool.
I run my hands along the hospital beds
Their coarse white linens
I push my fingers through the bars on the windows of the doors
I lay my cheek against the cold metal of a table
I am alone
And I feel nothing
Echoing and calm.
The air is like gel
I have to push through it
And I am slow and empty and content to be so.
The world refracts
And I watch coolly, detached
Shadows move
But they don’t bother me.
They follow me on the wallpaper, waving hands
And I reach for them
Line my fingers up with theirs
Feel the darkness tingle along my skin.
They don’t speak
But someone else does.
It’s a harsh husk of a whisper, like sand
And I let it scrape across the back of my neck and raise the flesh along my arms.
It says,
“I’m sorry”
“I’m sorry”
“I’m sorry”
The sound fills me like a horrible prayer,
And suddenly I feel everything instead of nothing
And I think
This is the moment I die
This is the end of me
But instead it
“I’m sorry”
“I’m sorry”
“I’m sorry”

It’s me.

I put a hand to my throat in surprise, feel the vibrations there.
My face is contorted, and for a long moment I feel it, trying to read it,
Trying to understand,
Then pull back sharply, having found what I was looking for
And hating it.
No, no, no-
If I can make the maze of my thoughts hard enough to navigate
Maybe I will never find my way out again
Into sense
And into
I sink inside myself,
Sorry sorry sorry
And each word is like a wound torn open by shaking fingers
And I am sure this agony
Will last forever
Squeezing my heart and lungs
Wringing me out.

But suddenly the world shifts,
The sorrow is pulled out of me like venom and I forget it as I forget myself.
Like a child, I am new and blank and whole.
Tears still cling to my eyelashes from the moment before
But now I no longer know why they are there, blurring the edges of world.
I taste one, and it is like the sea
And I realize that I am in the water.

I bathe in front of an audience of silent white faces
They do not bother me
I am splayed, naked, in a warm porcelain tub
And I let my face sink beneath the surface
Looking up into the lights shaking and swirling above me.
They’re like little fish
Out in the air
When I’m in here.
I stare and stare
Until darkness starts to fade them
And hands grab my shoulders.
When I emerge it is like being born and dying all at once
And something like coherence gnaws at the edges of me
I shrink from it, rubbing my hands together, frantic.
A whisper that makes me turn my head sharply
But then it’s gone.

Someone pulls me from the water and dries me.

Like a doll I am moved away from that place
And I forget it as soon as the door closes.
A storm threatens though, on the horizon something menacing and tumultuous looms.
A thought I don’t want to have,
A feeling I can’t name and don’t ever want to.
It claws at me, it chews at my ragged fingernails until blood blossoms and drips onto the bedspread.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”
It’s not my mind that’s fraying, it’s my soul,
And I know which one I’d rather lose.
I curl into a ball, huddled and waiting
To be crushed.
But at the last second, no-
A sharp slice, something shiny and bright.
I feel ice in my veins, and then numbness.
I want to be wrapped in white sheets
And dine on bread and water
The purest nun
The **** Madonna
Shrouded for the shadows to mourn.
I stare around me with large liquid eyes, searching for someone whose name I can’t remember.
I have to say something,
I have to tell her...

But I am alone here,
Thank god.
I am alone and it is loud with stillness
And I am forgetting my name as I forgot hers.
I toss it away from me, the last of something
That won’t be missed.
I drift, hoping for rest
And I start to find it.

Something metallic and heavy is seeping through me
And I let the last of that clawing feeling slip away.
I feel it. It’s back. I hope it stays forever:

I weep, and the tears are empty.
And I am empty
And I feel

Thank god.
Kerry 3d
They say I'm depressed
And they seem right so far
All I know is I'm a blessed mess
And though I quote I'm too blessed to be stressed
But I'm stressed and I know I'm blessed
Leave it to the doctors and specialist they seem to know whats best
Distressed perplexed and confused
Down right sad dismal and blue
It took a while to admit I was beat
Didn't watch what I ate
I wasn't great
Cared less about my fate
I mean I cared but it didnt dissapate
And it seemed it could withstand the weight
So I gave it another stiff arm
What would be the harm
It withstood my charm
My charisma
My pleads and my begs
But it wasnt until I was fed
Up and downright ******
More than a we gone to get through this
My energy was on ten
Determined to get a win
By any means
Strength and grit
Smile and wit
Bend down a bit
Cause I know how to pray
From a dismal blue to a dark hued gray
My depression didn't didnt
bend stray or go away
To my dismay and my demise
Other wise and next slide
I is tired
Calculated the cost
Removed the dross
Can't fake the funk or pretend
To floss
Coins to toss
Do I admit defeat
Outcome looks bleak
Do I cheat
Should I speak
Whose help to seek
Sat in a therapist chair
Felt like the enemys lair
Not a chess champ or even a player
Not here or there
A few more gray hairs
Not a win anywhere
So I changed therapist and asked for help
Took what was bottled up off the shelf
Put it all on display let it all hang out
Surrendered my clout
Pushed through the doubt
Got it all out
Cringed screamed and shout
Wanted to cry but the tears won't
come out
Shared a little
Grew strong where I was brittle
Stopped twiddling
Learned to listen
Put two and two of what I was missing
Didn't know the term
Unlearned what I learned
I was functionally depressed
Blessed and stressed
Perplexed out of context
Get the concept
Light bulb on
In character
More laughter
Silence the chatter
It simply doesnt matter
Moving towards what I'm after
Terms like radical acceptance and new normal
Out of the turmoil
Enemys plan foiled
Unbridled unspoiled
Cleaning the soiled
Exchanged my linens
Grinning and winning
Doing it different
To a Great extent
Choosing to vent
Saying thank you to those
Who lent
Ears times smiles and tears
Cheers and being kind
Helping me out of life's bind
Lost and found
Common ground
And on the pitchers mound
No longer down
Or out
Snatched back my clout
Upturned my pout
Fully working it out
And through it
Gets better by the bit
Me and depression have split
I'm ok and handling it
The divorce was hard
She still had my debit card
A few unauthorized charges
And barges
But I'm on top
Top flight
Fighting full of might
On the other side of my plight
In spite
Of all the hype
I choose to swipe
Left right up or down
Till I find my sound
And the brightness resounds
All the while my hope rebounds
Kitt Dec 2018
Take my gold and frisk my crown
          Pull jewels from my neck and scrub the expensive oils from my skin
          Burn the fine linens and strip me of my silks
I have no need for such trivialities.

     Turn your face from me and harden your heart
           Cast me out from my home, my sanctuary
           I shall die in a shelter rather than a palace, but all the same,
I shall be just as dead here as there.

     Lose me my birthright, my title and my throne
           Change the name on the scroll of the fate I was born for
           Sell your right-hand seat to the prettiest bidder
I will die knowing I would not sell out.

     You, the one I held in my foolish heart so dear,
          Can take away from me everything I gave you
          But you cannot take the strength with which I was born, for
I represent the one virtue you cannot own.

     Replace me if you must but know that I will lie in peace
           Forget me if your heart allows it, but never forget
           That I-- the woman who dares defy the king--
I hold more power in my will than you have in your court.
Esther 1:2-21
nvinn fonia Dec 2018
what/====/what  ==
  here, it is a tar pit  the yellowed trees all that eyes  see cherry blossoms through &through cherry blossoms  cherry blossoms through and through and through  cherry blossoms through
   it soothes- -it becomes blooms -it becomes blooms ---it becomes blooms ---recantations  reconsecration
so many many ages ago,  “probabilities man probabilities”
that’s about itt, man, it seems“similarly“,,,,, noww nowwthe drudge  magenta!noww, man-about time
as i knoww itt” well for once “ once  so pretty  ” she-says -cohorts
justt a dayy more we are closer-hippyhippy-hopp
the  best off linens the blue coats the finest frivolities all that  is pristine pristine-here/Jesuits
a sea of happiness in here everything
a well laid dining table a desk to write read eat a tree outside the never ending vanity fair “that  the magic will live  never will die
cause it’s automatic for people”says-Scot  it is really  automatic-now

“ patterns  emerge   as my prime whiter s,man”----tells,Joe

cups of tea-  chamomile- tells Jon/ mayb  “as much as you will like to mingle/&dangle-&mingle /double dribble/triple./Onegin //all the  wriggling the  implausible imposing    ,, nibbles ,,all the book keeping
“the classic anecdote” iff i mayy ... we are all  only supercilious  there’s more here to come”----Jim,, retorts tells
“to which i may”,tells jill    a sheep is _, its all gloom and  kingdom comes
   reasons /and acuity/  th more the merrierer   my bliss/slits
/ & the black space everywhere in
   them the/many minds   all the more   \><citadel.come and go touch of gold   see to believe  
  <    deep blue lakes &blue that  never end their rune and it  returns  a ship on her chest a ship on her chest,on her chest-that i will reach places un dreamt of
\   will   returnn  > there. everyplace tea<>>>>\
   stays afloat,    dispels /beaten /scowls  scary ,tea<>>>>\all-of jiggling/ bouncying   ><weeds out / >minuscules
ripes/renders jesica>>>>jamboree  come face me.
     the grandest / all  the oddities   one magic invention i was missing all this time transgression/ kindda may be timid /  
  my jive / rruby/mouthing a last supper if you will .something akin
   timid all this time
  wt i was endless immeasurable the - wild/beckons/ ribbons and knots
door to door tropic  day/&night; /beckons// ribbons and knots
\i  was i would  on my side Ausual-revival Arendition again  again
and  lifee-like -ride  and whatever moreover all oveer the leftovers
rose swells . fine  our grasslands,you know, stilts frantic Jiving,Jiving Jiving in smoke  -reels/incapabl,,indecicve
one more dayy nd through h moors
are off ,,,, raspberry,Jiving,Jiving Jiving
discontent  / neatt/  mother  fuggazii ,Jiving,Jiving Jiving ,a week goes ayb a month a long intention, itt- sooths./all the more oegin \Gerianne- ,,twitces  .astute, many floors up,pigging cleaning,every quarter
the clouds/massquadre ,this is cat to,, through ,,moved,moved,,moved

, a-blue,, a-temple a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now
Buddha, a simpleton/buddah geriane 16-1-5-1, miniature lamps,,blizzards6-1-5-1,
all that can in a man/rigour all that hula hoop
possibly a merry christmass,, dayys spent ,,,  full
you  are all that is sire a \ all the pleasures off a small room
full off all the kool tools an art decoo sire by now you know it
all thecrystal fairies in blue crystall *****
pretty slick,,,runs ,piping hott ,, undone  &the; buddha, the-rider,, the- boxes,,,layaway the glistering the beaming, all  the book keeping
a philistine, if i mayy impeccable, and  free
glitters all  the hourrs,a\ repliccaa just a beguiling  taste ,\
,sire,,little empty purposely,, masterfully done,,,sire
beefy ,,sire,and, plenty-full surelyy
the nectar bequeaths

projected .mediocre , mister faires in ferries  shimmering  dearest of stories  / wings/reminising _faires
drool  an artt decoo sire,,,a purple tea *** in which we drink our tea,,,mirrors,,, the very best in the pristine
the mannequins,,all the more-buddha,the-rider,, the- boxes,,
,,sire iff only i may all that   hula hoop.dope-slopes -keystrokes -rabbi=ed folks we traversed   alone
among the ******* faires shining.and whineing
tee -hometown alleys too,the innate shufling,  neat //pique
   from,treetops,bellhops,  all  those-pitstops
   chit chats-flips flops flat-crapp
lemonade/the charade the bee all the hives-all
handmade kind of  dreams /transpicuous
**** you would knoow you would knoow-that anyway blinking/ slits . //slithers
leaping/ reaping/ leaving all blue //eyes bulls eye

archic // mine  !all blue //eyes----  eye leaping/ rearing/
leaping/ reaping/leaping/ rearing/leaping/ reaping/leaping/ rearing/

and now the mother  a finale-  ( )   grand //tiers ;piping ;deep-dives................
-clean-off beat -best kept thatt  allures us //still gilding  top -down.  in
fairies   delusions/- 2rapid 2rabid distracted
comes easy free /  -******
a cup of tea/honey -man i know  with it  /// batteries  jazz like   *******
time and time againn pronto sire
wired tried intake-uptake /cup cakes/hatted  /// orbs many many many kinds justt soo many soo many  many
  any takers in no hurry
left /blending/mended melting too which she says enough off all this shenanigans i want //if this is
Sophia I Apr 12
A cottage spell, snail shells
and sycamore leaves under my nails,
I am dreamlike,
Pressed linens reek of lavender.
The mirror on your dresser is cracked~
Was it a stray dove?

Foxgloves press against sugarpanes,
a rose garden bends to listen closer.
This apricot pudding is my third lover.
Swathe me in ****** lambswool,
blush my cheeks with grass stains.

as I say I am, the sky makes me so,
I kiss the farmhand blondly, pinkly,
My eyelashes are tangled and my hairbrush gleams like a dark spider.

And in the morning,
the hills swallow me up,
I want to be at one with stone walls and cow cud.
To stem and bud like a funeral rose,
Loving Ad Infinitum.
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