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Ophelia O Nov 2017
There! In the shadows, she watches
breaking hushed tranquility that shades
my eucalyptus
on a morningbeige wall

the Tingle, it’s here. a sense
of unease as she climbs my;
nick! and imports her touch. Lick
up my arms, fingers unwelcomely
running through my head
she is in my scalp   

itching imprint stays, echoing off
tired skin. ruining tender visions
of whispering
eclipse filled daynight

Perhaps
they came together;
in shallow memories of dark
Chicago forbid my viewing

She’s here now. watch
wild fingers grabbing lapping  
trees, ******* up their marrow
Creeping; burrowed in cold breeze
on my quiet 73 degrees
afternoon willow

her hands touch without touch,
eyes catch moments of them
past dusk, aching sunlight echoes
more distantly down time’s dust

each day she; the moon comes
closer and colder I see her
fingers, lustly peek out behind
looming, that chipped orb

the encompassing force was all;
no shades protected
retinas burned, she is here!
behind my eyes

her fingers

to close my eyes is to touch her
her ***** nails
they would drag me
I feel her
Melissa Moreno Oct 2014
I want to enjoy life, more than ever before. I want to work out, run marathons without worrying about getting a t-shirt or an Instagram like. I want to sweat this **** off like in the game of life.
I want to indulge whatever I want. I'm craving all types of food and feel like having something from the nearest untrustworthy food stand, sit, eat and belch like an ''I won *****'' paean. Maybe I could go vegan for a day, or try the disgusting raw food challenge or switch it later to become a fast food nasty piggish *****. Food shouldn't be feared, it shouldn't make you sick nor fat. I don't even care about my shape like I used to, food is there to be lustly enjoyed before it is pooped, my friends. I don't mind if I'm slim or fat for the first time in my life yet I still in a pseudo imposed diet and nobody knows why.
Oh God! I want to jump in the water cold or hot, who cares? sunny or cloudy, who gives a dime? Better yet, I want to jump out off a plane for skydiving and feel I'm flying free, high, higher than my thoughts and fears. I want to drink and celebrate as if it were my birthday, and toast to wisdom rather than to wrinkles. I want to dance like the whole world is watching, flashing me and tagging me.
I want all that. I want to spend all the money I have on dresses, hippie, elegant, short, longs and even see through ones but I just want to forget about ''saving for a house'', ''saving for a future that might never come.
Oh man, I want to do more things than I even dared to in my beautiful early twenties. I actually think I should have done more, dared more, even gotten laid more. Why not?
But this stupid sickness has turned me into a trapped bird on an infamous spell. Right after a click, I'm just a free bird in a cage, trapped in a white four-wall safety room whether it is home or work. This right here is a bird which lamely admires people living their life outside and watching the clock inside ticking ''it's one more minute of prison'' going by and by and by like a stream of water in my sweaty hands. That' s where a stupid sickness can drag ones life on, trapped in a safe yet hermetic & suffocating bag. Usually, the NY Times articles, writing drafts and camera lenses from my balcony alleviate this and convince me it is not too bad. But it actually is very bad. and God knows I'm getting tired of this.
If life is a game, if this life is a game, then someone has to lose while the other wins.
Will abracadabra inscribed on an amulet make me win? If Roman emperor Caracalla prescribed that malaria sufferers wear an amulet containing the word written in the form of a triangle in order to get healed.
I trust the man. I just want to be free.

— The End —