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Daniel Magner Sep 2013
I've learned
that time alone
away from stimulation to
all my senses
is
a
neccesity
Sarah Wilson Sep 2010
i've got this sick neccesity to know where you are, what you're doing.
i've got all this hate and all this grief that says i don't care, i don't.
i've got this craving for your mocking laughter, your sarcastic smile.
i've got all these feelings and nowhere to put them.
i've got all these tears and no reason to cry them.

because can you really grieve over something you never had?
and really, what if it was all a lie?
what if it was all a lie?
tell me how it was for you.
i promise not to cry.
i'm comfortable in my misery.

my glovebox is filled with so much music that isn't fit for listening.
my trunk is filled with so many clothes that don't fit me, anyway.
my heart is filled with so much of you there isn't room for anyone else.
my life is filled with so much that isn't you, i can't help but forget you.

but the sun goes down, and i remember doing nothing but driving.
i remember endless bickering and games of padiddle.
i remember singing, laughing when i told you i liked the way you sing.
i remember hugs, in the car at first. then outside my car.
and then i remember embraces i never wanted to end.
i remember, "see you later," and my whispered goodbye.

but i don't remember when all of it stopped.
you lied, last time.
i haven't seen you later.
and, as a whole?
i'm doing just fine.
but lately, my body just hasn't run the same. 9-13-2010.
Danielle Shorr Jul 2014
It is 1am
And I am a combination
Of alcohol and thoughts
Too many words and heavy eyelids
I stand at bar
With drink in loose hands
As some attempt conversation
And I
Smile quietly
With vacant eyes
Because there are plenty of people
In this room
That could fill this empty capacity
Put end
To this gap of desolation expanding inside of me
There are plenty
Who I could find momentary comfort in
Possibly even more
But I
Am too blocked off
To call myself open
Too shut down
To even listen to small talk
Or friendly dialogue
The truth is
I am too hung up
On distance
And romance that is more than likely
To never work out
To be able to make the effort
To love someone other than taken
I am so good
At setting my heart on situations
That have been set long before my prescence
I am skilled
At attempting to love person already satisfied
I will never be neccesity
Only drunken shell of girl
Searching through a sea of bodies
For someone who is not there
For someone who will probably never be there
This routine
Of bourbon and late nights
Of strangers and recurrent introductions
Will continue with frequency
But I
Will remain
Unfulfilled
It is 1am
And I am
Still hoping for something
That is perpetually
Unattainable.
Are you the end, severing my potential?
Are you a end, or are you a beginning a apathetic agent who clears the way for the new?
Am I old, or have I done what destiny prescribed and you are giving me a pen for a blank canvas for my own tales?
Aren’t you the gate keeper, the one who welcomes those to the starless lands?
How can I write anew tale at the end of all tales, do I need to? there is no light to show my glory no light to revel my despair
Ah, you are death.
A poem; a bout, the acceptance of death
We fear you because of your necessity but heed not the toll of neccesity on you.
You are the owls ***** in the night.
The solace at the end of the longest and most periless of trials.
To know about you is to fear you but to know you is to love.
you are my friend and the last I will ever see.
I know you?
A poem about death, a miss who's misunderstood
Eminence Front May 2016
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is.
When the touch of my fingertips
glance your decadent lips.
It urges within me an impatient surge.
The ardent flower that blooms at night,
under stars that shine harder to breathe the seductive aroma.
The galaxy shrinks, as to ensure its reach within the celestial skies,
forgetting their physics.

But if you dismember the limbs with which my love feels,
my love will retract within itself, like the turtle fearing the chaos outside its shell.
And if you deny me the reciprocity of my heart's most passionate story.
I will close the chapter and publish as is.

Yet, in my winter's tale, as frozen tears of sky lament their cause,
I shall give comfort from my fires.
Warming each breath of wind, as they gasp for substance.
My atmosphere will be enriched from my most enlightened flame.
And your ice will become my neccesity, a most welcome oasis in the desert.

But if you fuel my flame, if my desires entwine with yours, spiraling with themselves intuitively,
the wildfires would capture intensity in its most primal form.
My love becomes a slave to your divinity, a temple to your goddess,
wading through blasphemy, accomplishing rapture.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
i really hope this is the last conceptualißaton
of sūdoku....
   it's all optics...
there's this disparity in the puzzle...
i.e. there the square (matrix) appraoch

     x  x  x
     x  x  x
     x  x  x


but then there's the classic approach...
   i don't even know what to call it,
other than that, and therefore
having a neccesity for a visual representation:

x
   x
      x
         x
x  x  x  x  x  x  x  x  x
               x
                  x
                     x
                        x


****... i'm just having a beer, and trying to avoid
the sun...
         ever get sun stroke?
    painful as ****...
      i was watering this bed of flowers in a blindman's
garden, and given that i have a few blonde hairs on
my crop, i was left, spending two days
in bed, shivering...        
    blindman's garden?
  well, yeah... the focus was on
     planting stachys byzantina,
         a species of stachys...
commonly know as lamb's ear.

— The End —