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Ivana Rodriguez Nov 2018
w e  a r e  t h e  o c e a n . . .

      y o u  a r e  t h e  s u n s e t . . .

                        I  a m  t h e  s t a r l e s s
                                                         s k y . . .
Personally, I hate this type of poetry, and don’t even find this poetry, but I had a thought and thought it should go on here for aesthetic purposes... yeah... this does not make sense, but hey, it’s all about aesthetics, right?

Update: honestly, this was made as a parody on those Rupi Kaur type of “poems,” and it really concerns me that this has more views than some of my actual poetry...
King Panda Nov 2017
starlight snaps your
cigarette awake. the imperfect
circles of earth’s motion orbit
around your breast. the moon
from your ears.
north and south run
the rivers of
smeared mascara,

you stop. listen to

the man
playing fiddle with
bar light.
mt Jun 2018
i have a mole on my right shoulder and an always swollen heart,
i often feel lonely, i have eyes that see art.
at night i'll think i'm pretty, like when my hair falls in rings
i say the word love often so i guess i love many things
i like myself better at night so this is about that
Persephone May 2018
And I wonder, "Am I just the glimmer in the river reflecting someone else's light?"
I'm to much like other people that I don't even know how much of me is me anymore.
Jade Charlotte Nov 2018
We laugh and pace along the lines of the track field under
Fog pierced by sidewalk lamps;
The light sharp and mysterious.

Colors I have never seen pour from your lips—
Hues of girls you’ve ****** or would like to **** swirl and crash against the current.

I’m anchored,
My aches diffused by the stars in your eyes and the moon in your mouth.

What ungodly power have I surrendered to you—
That I could turn to dust at the clap of your hands.

Still, you penetrate my dreams:
Blurry drops of cherry, orange, and lemon.
You **** my soul.

I wake up to my 5th alarm and gold rocks fall from my eyes.
My heart like a hummingbird that’s smacked into a window.
I greet the day with dark humor and darker coffee.
Jesus ******* hell
Paris Apr 2018
I’ve never truly been diagnosed
But I have some troubles
Some ability to scare the living **** out of myself with my mind every single night

Can never fully sleep without something happening
Shall it be scratching, moaning, pounding on the walls
Shadows, demons, or just my own self getting me
Maybe voices or images, the thought of disasters
A nightmare, body pains, or just my own mind not wanting me to sleep

Pains in my chest that hurt worse with every beat
Or maybe the sense of a presence looking over me
I haven’t got a clue for the cause of these nighttime fiascos
but it’s something every night
The only source of release is when I turn on my phone to see a text from the person I love
And even so, though it feels like a boundaries around me, I know something is out there waiting for me to turn off the lit screen and be face to face with the  terrors that keep me awake at night
riwa Apr 2018
i stayed up all night
waiting for a text from you.
sunlight knocked on my bedroom window,
but i just shut it out once again...
i refuse to let anything other than u in

you know, i could never fall asleep properly until i heard from you...
so i guess you could say i haven’t gotten much sleep these past few months.
i have been staring at my ceiling for so long,
trying to picture us together again,
that i’ve nearly forgotten what the rest of the world looks like.

i never thought the day would come where my longing for you would bring me nothing but misery,
but here i am,
staring at my ceiling,
the sunlight is starting to creep in on me...
so i guess it’s time for me to close my blinds again.
nights feel longer without you
Jade Charlotte Nov 2018
Encompassed by oak and pine
A heron nestles in a valley of red
She cranks her neck to peer through a diamond frame
The image of the valley below is a kaleidoscope of autumn;
Murky waters,
Dry grass,
A still mountain with snow sliding down its shoulders.
Squirrels with cheeks stuffed full of nuts scurry in a frenzy
The sky is a cold heavy
Ice and bricks
The people are wrapped in fishnets and wool scarves
Candles are lit for the death of long days
Night hugs us tightly with warm hands
The moon
She hums and howls
The trees rumble in the night
You are awakened by a crackle and thump
The pine and oaks have lost limbs to the seasonal wind
Bears of summertime.
Jillian Aug 2018
am I you
what am I without you
its not your fault
don’t cry for me
don’t confuse me
I love you
don’t leave me
don’t have *** like it's
don’t look at her naked body
with the same eyes that you
looked upon mine
don’t let me breathe a life saving breath
while you’re


let me wallow in saturated agony
let me be in pain
let me feel the extent of my own emotions
and eventually
for a bee that carries three times its weight isn’t meant to last
let me go into that valley of death
that idyll
that probable hell
where I may but suffer the more,
take me there.

give me a smallest crumb more
let me lick your fingers
I must see if I could still summon that sweet syrup love
that burns as it exits
my bellybutton

let it then lapse away
so I may forget
and when he finds his way
back to my dirt trail I'll never stop walking
I will pick him up and nourish his soul with my own
so his stomach fills
and he is more whole

and I am more hole
Wrote this with a chaotic mind
Kenya83 Aug 2018
I pull the covers of tonight across our skin
A blanket of stars upstaged by your eyes
Every hair follicle awakened with the movement of your lips
Tenderness in gentle dream
The smell of the midsummer nights breeze
The palm of my hand to the warmth of your chest, I press
And leave the shooting-star for another
Who needs the hope of its wish
Xandra Lynch Dec 2018
The soft blue-green of the moon’s light floods into my bedroom.
The day: over
Time ebbs away, nonexistent
The memories on the shelf fall off
The shattered glass grabs onto the moonlight and hugs it
The light dissipates
It leaves an empty shell, the remainder of light curling and taking off
to cover a faraway land with a soft reassurance of mist

The drowsiness underneath my eyes dwindles away
This is the noise that keeps me awake.
Exhilaration is pumped into my hollow bones
Painful buzzing cuts into my brain at random. The light of the moon fluctuates
The bitter food still alive on my tongue overwhelms my senses
The sharpness of the light penetrates my eye with force. I can’t see anything
The light bends, white and bright, the stars burrow into my iris
My bones are jelly, my brain is a cocoon of abhorrence, my heart is a balloon
It pops.

The beast within me ***** away at the jelly, fed.  
The creature in my brain breaks out and flies away to infest another innocent.
The noise slips away. I’m a paper girl limp on the bed.
Unable to move or feel or think or to have a heartbeat.
Quiet blossoms inside. I exist as a metaphor. I ***** my eyelids shut.
i hope they won’t fall off
The stars wink away. An infinite, dark sky looms overhead.
The darkness is a blanket, firm and reliable, warm. I drape it over myself and vanish.
Entropy lives within me. I nurture it, because it is my friend.
It flies away into its nest of clouds. It is distant. It will not come again for awhile.

Shadows shift onto the floor and murmur.
Dreams await.

© 2018
Xandra Lynch
King Panda Jun 2017
sundog—small and incomplete
half-***** rainbow.
at least once a week for
the clever dreamer,
the girls with no eyes,
the men with small *******.
there is

fortune in the river—it swims
away when I take you breath
down to it in a bucket. and my hands
quilt flawless wade of
nighttime water.

*where is the colored light?

nowhere, sundog.
where do mattresses go when they leave your home?
do they hitch a ride back to Oregon
that place that you only pitched as an idea for a funny road trip
but never actualized
instead the map with all the pins of the places you've visited
has become the places you'll go and now it's slanting askew  
because your sense of perception is always a little crooked
do they sit by the curb of a dilapidated 7-11 and watch everyone
give them bedroom eyes
is there such a thing as pining or are we naturally drawn to the new?
something foreign that can be learned with time and patience
but the patience runs out like the water in the bag where that fish you won at the fair came in
and when you got home there was only plastic and the rubbery upside down belly of fish scales in an airless vacuum

do they enter through the window and shimmy under the
other dusty things in the attic?
Do they make themselves at home telling you stories of
everything they've seen and don't you wish that
the guests always stayed longer than you could hope for
but forever is not in your cards, it's not even in the receipts
you horde in the kitchen drawer
forever is stuck under the couch but you never check
because it's easier to just sit and think about it
It’s nighttime again,
I can see the million stars far away ,
They remind me of someone,
Or should I say of some lost soul,
Just as the stars are beautiful is that soul,
And yet as far from me is that soul,

It’s morning again,
I feel the warmth of the sun,
Yet also it reminds me of a not a lost soul-
But of a pearl -
How it shines,how precious it is,
Yet how rare it is—

It’s noon again,
I can see my short shadow,
It makes me laugh out—
But it also reminds me not of a pearl ,
But of life-
How funny it is,
Yet it too short—

It’s evening again,
I can see the sun setting,
I enjoy how it looks -
Red as blood no———
Red as embers of fire,
It also reminds me of not life,
But of humans,
How hot they are
Yet they burn you to the ground—

I guess I’ll have to travel again,
So as to see the seasons-
How they crush into each other,
So that they could remind me of anything,
Because I believe—
I believe the light is coming—
Coming to return everything—
Everything that the dark stole

King Panda Jun 2017
you had me when you
skinned my hide—the future
and present of squiggled
intestines tilting with the
rotation of earth.

I am macho—no nighttime.
the summer constellations
throw me a bone and big crunch
as my molars snap with my

it takes a year to go around the sun once.
it takes a trawl to fish properly.
it takes a dog to chase the brightest

Bee Dec 2017
Pathetic parasite
of a woman
love indefinitely,
a plague
upon hopelessly
romantic people.
A performance.
Smiling, always.
good news and
sleeps around,
in black light.
Wearing sunglasses.
Her day is
She breathes
instagram posts
to survive.
But thrives, only.
The numb gummed
princess cries
every day and
yes. She said it,
a hundred times
proves flexible.
Same words mean
different things
and we
obviously don’t
speak the same
I meant mine.
I didn’t know
she’d sell hers
for snow.
Attention from strangers.

Welcome home.

Winter came and stayed,
love never lived here.
Em Jul 17
my days begin with nicotine in my veins
and ***** in my coffee mug

it ends with tears in my eyes
too many thoughts in my mind
and the bittersweet taste of strangers on my lips
-i feel sick to my stomach

i don’t know what to do anymore, im disgusted with myself and the path I’m going but nothing can save me
lance Sep 25
since when did holding a death sentence
in between my fingers,
become such an amazing getaway?

a sense of relief,
pulls away the weight of the world off of my chest,
leaving my lungs charcoal black,
while gazing into the stars,
head scattered with emotion,
numbing the constant sorrow.

“a cigarette won’t **** you”

i said.

but my weary heart and mourning lungs tell me otherwise,
i smoke to get away from reality,
paying attention to only the:



“save this broken boy”

i said.

talking to the moonlit sky,
well aware not the stars,
nor my hope will save me tonight.

i smoke my lonely cigarette,
burning it down to the filter,
just to be used and thrown away.

“i have it good”

i said.
Emily Nov 2018
If before eleven,
I should pass,
Peacefully into the Sandman’s grasp,
I hope you know I wish you a Good Night.

But if I manage to withstand,
My drooping eyelids and slowing brain,
Then, perhaps,
I’ll wish you Sweet Dreams.
May all have peaceful slumber tonight.
Knit Personality Jul 2015
     My mistress doth
Have eyes that shimmer;
     And by my troth,
The world is dimmer
     When they are shut,
So that it seemeth
     The nighttime, but
The sun still beameth.
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