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"quarentine" poems
*"The Business Int'l is a trans-national, Multi-operative, corporate entity. With the means to function outside Normal Gov't bounds The Business Int'l has become the worldwide leader On the frontline of: Genetic & Bio-Engineering! Space Exploration And long-range teleportation services! Our research will better* [human-kind] *And is the most advanced & comprehensive Ever imagined. The Business Int'l values it's loyal customers! And at the Business Int'l We take all of your corcerns seriously. We also offer aid to every worker at any/all of our subsidiaries Any 4th class employee who feels compelled to:* [Leave the Facility] Or [Propagate sensitive data] *STOP. Remain calm. And fasten yourself to nearby set furniture Until our Registered Physcian can Follow up with you. Self-Quarentine is a Business Int'l core policy! In extreme cases though, The Business Int'l reminds you to Be prepared to utilize Your personalized botulinum capsule Provided to you during your initiation! Thank you!*
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May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
The Business Int'l
The once sunny days are replaced with the rainy as wet as tears on my face your infectious laugh fills my ears so desperately until I can’t hear nothing more than a faded memory and the pictures on my phone have been looked at more than the work on my desk your texts aren’t as memorable as the seconds of happiness i squeezed out of us like a sponge and the time we spend isn’t as fun when we’re six feet apart
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Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 3:46 PM UTC
quarentine
Peter once asked: which things make you feel something? And the truth is I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to believe in a glamourous life Lillies of the valley, meditation Behind sunrise filters there’s someone unhappy, black and white With a dull and wrinkled skin, she hates the sun She always thought about her vocations House decorator but she never could do it right Just like singing, or dancing or even flerting but not like holding a gun She lives in a small and warm house Which she always wished the old roof to cave in No garden, no breath, but death Never met the green but fell in love with violence And by that I mean - her mother talks about the path God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to believe in a fitness life *** with cellulite but not like Jupiter Curves all over the body but not like the ones on the road There is hair, but not long enough and strong enough like Rapunzel's - for her men to entrust her with the climb There are big arms, but not like Anette's because no one would stay in it for that long There’s no art on her November 1st 2021, she noticed that she was thinner but she couldn't wear her high waisted pants like she always wanted Her mother would **** her if she did So she prayed one more time God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to hide in the night life ‘Don’t trust the moon, she’s always changing’ Peter once asked: which things make you feel something? So she prayed one more time God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die
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Jan 17, 2023
Jan 17, 2023 at 11:03 PM UTC
unfriend of mine
Peter once asked: which things make you feel something? And the truth is I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to believe in a glamourous life Lillies of the valley, meditation Behind sunrise filters there’s someone unhappy, black and white With a dull and wrinkled skin, she hates the sun She always thought about her vocations House decorator but she never could do it right Just like singing, or dancing or even flerting but not like holding a gun She lives in a small and warm house Which she always wished the old roof to cave in No garden, no breath, but death Never met the green but fell in love with violence And by that I mean - her mother talks about the path God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to believe in a fitness life *** with cellulite but not like Jupiter Curves all over the body but not like the ones on the road There is hair, but not long enough and strong enough like Rapunzel's - for her men to entrust her with the climb There are big arms, but not like Anette's because no one would stay in it for that long There’s no art on her November 1st 2021, she noticed that she was thinner but she couldn't wear her high waisted pants like she always wanted Her mother would **** her if she did So she prayed one more time God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die I’ve been play pretending since quarentine When I started to hide in the night life ‘Don’t trust the moon, she’s always changing’ Peter once asked: which things make you feel something? So she prayed one more time God, unfriend of mine Please, let me d-die
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35
Trapped. Engorged in a prison box too small for the swelling of my spiritual rotted flesh. Given the necrosis of civilizational crumbling had cast it's affect unto me, I melt in the wading pool of an invisible guard wielding the spear of viral pandemic. I hold steadfast in my mental capacity. Only to have the prism of stability rocked by the puncturing of many holes in the hot air balloon that glides through the ice... I am rocked, shook, and unhinged; I am the door that sways gently in the breeze to the rocking tides of this astral storm of disease. All of this chaos in the atoms of my mind's eye... As I simply lay here. Trapped. Engorged in the prison of the mind. I am my own gatekeeper. A militant simply funded by the fear of the invisible guard. I blink and sip the coffee, sitting up in the bed. Shake off the madness, and return to stillness.
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Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 5:52 PM UTC
Passing thoughts in quarentine...