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"receded" poems
I almost forgot about you today. A sizable spill of coffee shot me to my feet, holding up my mocha-soaked notebook like an unclaimed child. A dozen eyes found me at once---a security measure meant to bring shame to a klutz breaking his social contract. Attention for **** living. When the pain receded I stood in place and imagined you brushing your teeth.
0
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
Progress
finally this moment is here, I've been watching and waiting, I've been hearing it all along in between your words, in the center of the stories you tell so eloquently, so clever, so wise there is light in your right eye, some shadow in your left eye the evening light is sweetly illuminating the magnitude of loneliness some feelings need at least two people in order to be bearable you sat and listened you looked deeper into your body language receded, obscured itself like the moon sometimes there is no need for words something more important needs to be created in between bodies and minds, the flow of connection, of true partnership the waves started, the waters of loneliness surfaced you cried your tears and I cried mine as I listened to the silence of tears I understood: this was the moment for a few simple words: I see you, I am here there is no falling deeper than this for now truth, this scarry creature, was there in your flesh and mine your loneliness was like a sea without horizon but the shiver of depth  like a voice without screaming, a bird without flight perhaps this tango with tears will fill your lungs with innocence as you imagine a new horizon, a new architecture for happiness
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Jul 10, 2023
Jul 10, 2023 at 1:47 PM UTC
encounters (1): loneliness
I know you’ve heard these words before I've said them many times before I wish that I could use them more To make things better like before There was a time these words had meaning Sheathed in heartfelt cries and feelings But a shaman who can't heal Is just a man and nothing more Like worn-out, old and ***** pennies Now diluted by the many There's so many, many pennies Don't care there's one on my floor My cries of “wolf” no longer heeded When these words are truly needed To the darkness they've receded Blindly searching for that door In my chest still beats a heart While pained regret tears it apart Can't fix or go back to the start And you don’t want me anymore My anger and my finger pointing Foolishly like I'm anointed Not the one you are annoyed with You were wrong; I was so sure Attentively I listened to you In-and-out my ears your words flew Silenced; Gave no value to you Truth revealed strikes at my core Awakening I newly have With gained awareness of how bad I took for granted what I had A rolling tide erodes the shore Alone I sit and think of when We were not lovers just good friends Fun times together that we’d spend And from that my heart starts to soar Reality then brings me back Jolts like a sudden heart attack A deep sharp pain gives me a whack I scream until my lungs are sore Can't fix the memories or replace My nightmares wake me; Teary-faced Past filled with guilt, shame and disgrace Start questioning what life is for
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Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
Sorry
He was swept out to sea and lost to the treacherous waves His head broke water once or twice but he couldn't be saved God did smite him to spite him for all the love that he gave And he looked up to heaven and he forgave As he washed away there was no earthly thing that he craved For what good does it do to curse When disaster strikes you while you're at your worst And you are stuck wishing the waves had taken you first And dragged you out forever to sea He found himself unable to break through the current, so he ceased to be His forlorn lover waited like a stone upon the beach To catch just a glimpse of the man she could no longer see A man who had taught her what it was to be free Now is it fair that he had to go? Is it right that nobody knows Where his soul went after his body went down below Dragged out into eternity by the undertow So she sits and waits for his return Though it was long ago that his fate was learned Because still her body yearned For his seasick touch, caring and concerned Then one day she finally broke down As the waves receded and there in the sound She found his body drowned And his soul was no where in sight The whole time he had watched her on that beach Forever waiting and wanting but out of reach "I'll be here waiting forever" he silently screamed Just waiting for her to cease to be And as she walked out in the waves She looked to the sky to not be saved And at that point she was filled with dismay She didn't know if she'd find him there At the end the air burst from her lungs The ******* sound of the sea made her undone And they were reunited as one Two souls lost forever at sea There was such beauty in her death Her fearless attempt to reach across the stretch of desolate darkness past the confines of the flesh Just to find that she would be with her lover yet Under the waves forever
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Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
Reunited at Sea
He was swept out to sea and lost to the treacherous waves His head broke water once or twice but he couldn't be saved God did smite him to spite him for all the love that he gave And he looked up to heaven and he forgave As he washed away there was no earthly thing that he craved For what good does it do to curse When disaster strikes you while you're at your worst And you are stuck wishing the waves had taken you first And dragged you out forever to sea He found himself unable to break through the current, so he ceased to be His forlorn lover waited like a stone upon the beach To catch just a glimpse of the man she could no longer see A man who had taught her what it was to be free Now is it fair that he had to go? Is it right that nobody knows Where his soul went after his body went down below Dragged out into eternity by the undertow So she sits and waits for his return Though it was long ago that his fate was learned Because still her body yearned For his seasick touch, caring and concerned Then one day she finally broke down As the waves receded and there in the sound She found his body drowned And his soul was no where in sight The whole time he had watched her on that beach Forever waiting and wanting but out of reach "I'll be here waiting forever" he silently screamed Just waiting for her to cease to be And as she walked out in the waves She looked to the sky to not be saved And at that point she was filled with dismay She didn't know if she'd find him there At the end the air burst from her lungs The ******* sound of the sea made her undone And they were reunited as one Two souls lost forever at sea There was such beauty in her death Her fearless attempt to reach across the stretch of desolate darkness past the confines of the flesh Just to find that she would be with her lover yet Under the waves forever
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42
I just want someone to care. To notice, when I'm not there. To stay by my side. To let me cry. I don't want to be judged. I just want to be loved. I don't care how far, I don't care if you've receded, I just want to know that I am needed. It's not creepy. Certainly not. It's just odd, to read what's been thought. I love the imaginary, who exists. I love the birds, and bees. I love the sky, and seas. I'm waiting. I'm watching. Watching the world. Thinking about it, I've come to notice. You help me even now. Because I don't know who you are, I spend so much time thinking, wondering, contemplating elatedly, to the point I don't even think, about.. the world anymore. All I care about it this beautiful, wondrous, ponderous, distraction of mine. And this image in my mind, it may not be you, but I may know some day. This love is true. This love is so much. I don't even know what to do. This love of mine, I await. I will wait. I'm waiting. I'm watching. Watching the world. The world will pass me by, and in the end.. I will have you, and hold your hand. The collected dust, will tell a story.
0
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
Beautiful Distraction
tell me what words are there to articulate this savage parade not here, not in all the Lebanons whose crystal castles sparkle like broken glass on the dark horizons at the jagged edges of the world from which cultured minds have receded and all humanity has been relinquished to the barbarity of the frenzied flavours of fools who will speak for this wild parade without impediment to mythical protagonists tell me where are the energised arguments against sophisticated yet false laments where testament is torn through weeping cedar trees producing the unpredictable accidental quality that memorialises phantom caresses that have neither been invented nor encouraged the hallow that inaugurates the distinctive features of destructive energies that are both exuberant and hard to comprehend this parade where there is a savage sensibility capable of apprehending contradictory ethical imperatives that vouch for a mocking stream of tragic political consequence displayed vividly in the inextricability of civil order and political violence that defies exclusive claim by casting itself as freedom warrior in disguise as militaristic humanism and burns the temple tree and where human identity becomes an elusive possession owned by a few who in the inevitability of ignorance refuse to recognise their tragic error and the world does not mount a strenuous protest at this headlong dash for Ephesus where antagonistic language and neutral expression of thought converge and here the value of valulessness repudiates, even in a single poetic moment
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Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
Syria
tell me what words are there to articulate this savage parade not here, not in all the Lebanons whose crystal castles sparkle like broken glass on the dark horizons at the jagged edges of the world from which cultured minds have receded and all humanity has been relinquished to the barbarity of the frenzied flavours of fools who will speak for this wild parade without impediment to mythical protagonists tell me where are the energised arguments against sophisticated yet false laments where testament is torn through weeping cedar trees producing the unpredictable accidental quality that memorialises phantom caresses that have neither been invented nor encouraged the hallow that inaugurates the distinctive features of destructive energies that are both exuberant and hard to comprehend this parade where there is a savage sensibility capable of apprehending contradictory ethical imperatives that vouch for a mocking stream of tragic political consequence displayed vividly in the inextricability of civil order and political violence that defies exclusive claim by casting itself as freedom warrior in disguise as militaristic humanism and burns the temple tree and where human identity becomes an elusive possession owned by a few who in the inevitability of ignorance refuse to recognise their tragic error and the world does not mount a strenuous protest at this headlong dash for Ephesus where antagonistic language and neutral expression of thought converge and here the value of valulessness repudiates, even in a single poetic moment
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47
There once was a guy named Marx Who thought the bourgeosie were a bunch of old farts He proposed a solution Socialist revolution! But when will it happen? Don't ask! Russia's first ****** was Lenin His blueprint for Russia was telling Although his hairline receded He finally succeded! By stopping those Whites from rebelling Oh what a poor sap was Engels He built communism from its fundamentals He helped write the book Yet we gave him the hook Marx, the chorus, and he, the instrumental
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Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
A trio of communist limericks
I am often told that love will leave me breathless, But I hope I never know a love so greedy as to steal the air from my chest, For I have memories of a time when my body was oxygen starved And my lungs unable to draw in breath, Bogged down under soupy pneumonia that clung to my innards With vice-like, snotty grips. My mind is sometimes lost in the sensation of frantically Drawing air inward, ******* it into my chest with great gasps that never alleviated the burning of my lungs Or the way pins and needles tingled down my limbs. My brain cells were consumed with desire to force O2 to bind with the red blood cells churning in my veins. The air surrounding me was dense with particles that refused to aid my survival, No matter how much effort I exerted to the contrary. Sweat dripped off my too thin form and pallid skin As I drowned slowly from the inside out in a room full of doctors Until they finally placed the tube back into my throat to breathe for me. The pain receded as oxygen raced back into my cells, And I marveled for a moment at the fact that I could not feel myself breathing, Couldn't feel the rise or fall of my chest. The mark of my vitality was absent, And yet, I was very much alive. I remember what it was to be truly breathless, The blind panic that seized me before finally giving way to a wish for death. It's because of this I hope love never empties my lungs. I want a love that makes breathing feel safe and exciting, A love that feels so gloriously alive that I am acutely aware of my chest rising. Love should always make breathing feel like both a right and a privilege. It is a privilege to love her and be in her presence. But I hope she never leaves me breathless.
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Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 6:25 PM UTC
Breathless
I am often told that love will leave me breathless, But I hope I never know a love so greedy as to steal the air from my chest, For I have memories of a time when my body was oxygen starved And my lungs unable to draw in breath, Bogged down under soupy pneumonia that clung to my innards With vice-like, snotty grips. My mind is sometimes lost in the sensation of frantically Drawing air inward, ******* it into my chest with great gasps that never alleviated the burning of my lungs Or the way pins and needles tingled down my limbs. My brain cells were consumed with desire to force O2 to bind with the red blood cells churning in my veins. The air surrounding me was dense with particles that refused to aid my survival, No matter how much effort I exerted to the contrary. Sweat dripped off my too thin form and pallid skin As I drowned slowly from the inside out in a room full of doctors Until they finally placed the tube back into my throat to breathe for me. The pain receded as oxygen raced back into my cells, And I marveled for a moment at the fact that I could not feel myself breathing, Couldn't feel the rise or fall of my chest. The mark of my vitality was absent, And yet, I was very much alive. I remember what it was to be truly breathless, The blind panic that seized me before finally giving way to a wish for death. It's because of this I hope love never empties my lungs. I want a love that makes breathing feel safe and exciting, A love that feels so gloriously alive that I am acutely aware of my chest rising. Love should always make breathing feel like both a right and a privilege. It is a privilege to love her and be in her presence. But I hope she never leaves me breathless.
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30
Twentysomething Emo looks at teenage Emo and laughs. It was something purely aesthetic, with brain chemicals churning and wiry bodies yearning under the guise of straightened bangs and perched beanies, skin tight black outfits parading the dusty grounds of Warped Tour. Twentysomething Emo is the real deal-- lamenting over high school salad days because real life is so unsure, college degrees and full-time jobs, watching friends and lovers come and go in our lives. After a long day of responsibility and groveling, we drive home (or somewhere just as distant) with our emo anthems blaring through the speakers. We scream the songs back at them, truly feeling the words for the first time. I'm the same age as William Beckett, Adam Lazzara, and Pete Wentz when they wrote these songs-- and though the bangs have receded and the jeans have slackened, I am perpetually Emo. The unrequited love and the nearing distant future-- it's come too soon. I hope thirtysomething Emo looks back on my meandering twentysomething Emo and laughs-- as he plays the melancholy tunes pouring out of the speakers with some more of life fading away in his rearview mirror. This town gets smaller every day.
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Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
Decennary Emo (A Decade under the Influence)
It was considered expedient To change the unit of measure To change scale, To make redundant all That could be wasted, Naturally. Internal communications Will contrive suitable verbs To conceal the brutality of profit To provide surety as required To the senior management team As for the rest: To those whose insecurities Are relied upon, whose Middles have expanded, aged Receded, human resources Will issue notice of packages And opportunities of relocation. The restructure will require The recruitment of some Of the hungry young; Fresh graduates on the newly Introduced basic scales. What of your work you enquire? Those value added strategies Of differentiation Of corporate responsibilities, Family friendly policies? In this age of austerity Such approaches, old man, Are as relevant as a hard drive, Or hard copy, this is a cloud Sourced post-crunch Twitterverse we inhabit, This is a time for new prospects This is cloud cuckoo land.
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Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 3:06 AM UTC
Memo following the takeover
winter has receded into my bones, sharper than the strike of rocks and stones, yet none can penetrate the hive that is my mind, for you see my child, love is blind.
0
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 7:23 PM UTC
the cost of staying
Where buses still elapse with Time Down straight Dame Street The Trees are satellites that allow Children to look up and let the pavement breath. Earthen Columns that gate the Boombox Clubhouse tint Flanked by the Yeoman Guards of Hollister but forget to pay the same compliment outside of American Apparel Where Teenagers dream out fantasies of lamp-lit, flash-shot worship-worthy objectification in a converted loft in the real New York Their headphones spring streams of bright optimism as they cradle knitted knee-high socks. Take the curve round Trinity College and laugh past the rumours that it may soon float on Dow Jones and dodge past the charity advertisers Strutting over campbags of sleeping homeless to Lemon Cafe for an overpriced Mocha Which regardless deflates the sheen-covered hollowness of green-comfy Starbucks and learn the subtleties of speaking lightly to dark-jaceketed Blonde girls Whose eyes seem to sparkle "Yes, we have sipped on Veuve Clicquot at reserved tables on Graduation nights at Cafe En Seine" -"Where Oscar Wilde might have drank" - "..Had he been alive." Then speculate on the best Festivals and whose Films and Books are over-hyped and under-appreciated and the after-College Gossip on who broke-up or stayed together or who hooked up even though they shouldn't have or regretted it and who's doing a paid internship and who's moving abroad and afterwards charmingly tease their superficial attitudes as meanwhile they secretly take photos to upload on Instagram and later you'll fake-admonish them for how they did this behind your back while you were staring into the lake in St. Stephen's Green. When the moon no longer glazed the water and had receded its contrast to the farthest grass and you decide to take the last bus home. Throughout Caution Glints The Vowels and Brands them too.
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
Caution Glints The Vowels
Where buses still elapse with Time Down straight Dame Street The Trees are satellites that allow Children to look up and let the pavement breath. Earthen Columns that gate the Boombox Clubhouse tint Flanked by the Yeoman Guards of Hollister but forget to pay the same compliment outside of American Apparel Where Teenagers dream out fantasies of lamp-lit, flash-shot worship-worthy objectification in a converted loft in the real New York Their headphones spring streams of bright optimism as they cradle knitted knee-high socks. Take the curve round Trinity College and laugh past the rumours that it may soon float on Dow Jones and dodge past the charity advertisers Strutting over campbags of sleeping homeless to Lemon Cafe for an overpriced Mocha Which regardless deflates the sheen-covered hollowness of green-comfy Starbucks and learn the subtleties of speaking lightly to dark-jaceketed Blonde girls Whose eyes seem to sparkle "Yes, we have sipped on Veuve Clicquot at reserved tables on Graduation nights at Cafe En Seine" -"Where Oscar Wilde might have drank" - "..Had he been alive." Then speculate on the best Festivals and whose Films and Books are over-hyped and under-appreciated and the after-College Gossip on who broke-up or stayed together or who hooked up even though they shouldn't have or regretted it and who's doing a paid internship and who's moving abroad and afterwards charmingly tease their superficial attitudes as meanwhile they secretly take photos to upload on Instagram and later you'll fake-admonish them for how they did this behind your back while you were staring into the lake in St. Stephen's Green. When the moon no longer glazed the water and had receded its contrast to the farthest grass and you decide to take the last bus home. Throughout Caution Glints The Vowels and Brands them too.
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48
*your lips have receded they no longer come in waves they flow away from me and they don't turn back*
0
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
waves
Lord, the darkness has receded away, Here You have always been, never leaving. You have pressed against my soul, it withered. Your Spirit tells me there was purpose to me breaking; So if my brokenness brings You glory, then use my brokenness.
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May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 4:43 AM UTC
Use My Brokenness
Well I don't know how it happened You just forgot, I guess The pain receded I kept breathing And now... I wish I hadn't seen that It hurts to see you function I hate to watch you love ... I really hate to watch you love. I wish you hadn't kissed me In the wind Genuine surprise coursing through my veins I thought those sort of kisses were myths, all My heart might have stopped I wish you hadn't let me in Serenades and rusty blades Dreams and phone calls Roller coasters and secret beer The similarities bring me down Why can't my soul mate stay my friend? I hate the way you make me love you. Every word, I miss the drawl I used to talk that way. My twangy southern voice has left and so has my love of spontaneity You've wrecked it all All I have is Anger for your smile Exploration You touched my bones Leave me alone.
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
My heart was once in the south
Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Heart my got broken , knavery when played they all. I also did some trick, waggery did, made them fall. Soul my knocks now, and making me feel shy. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. I was fragile , shaky and suffering over last. Used to compete with them whosoever growing fast. Now that fear is over, seldom  now I vie. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. I let them laugh at me, who having envious heart. I let them mock at me, am accepting odious **** Malice brings no peace in me, not making such a try. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Wrong which they done to me, all have forgotten now, Only thing which yearn now, help all but when and how. In the land of hatred me, sowing peace and multiply. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Was bursting volcano then, now flowing river is me , Heat of that summer over, clouds pouring rains in me. Dirt of soul gone now, bade the evil good bye. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Venom of hatred receded, jealously no bitterness, Longing to assist someone, is there so eagerness. Sipping now drop of love, peace in me glorify. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Light of wisdom arrived, Night of ignorance gone. All my grief ended, joy in life has come. Riding at the peak of virtue, now I am flying high. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Now only truth here ,  no place for any lie. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Ajay Amitabh Suman Ajay Amitabh Suman
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Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC
Peak of Virtue
Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Heart my got broken , knavery when played they all. I also did some trick, waggery did, made them fall. Soul my knocks now, and making me feel shy. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. I was fragile , shaky and suffering over last. Used to compete with them whosoever growing fast. Now that fear is over, seldom  now I vie. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. I let them laugh at me, who having envious heart. I let them mock at me, am accepting odious **** Malice brings no peace in me, not making such a try. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Wrong which they done to me, all have forgotten now, Only thing which yearn now, help all but when and how. In the land of hatred me, sowing peace and multiply. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Was bursting volcano then, now flowing river is me , Heat of that summer over, clouds pouring rains in me. Dirt of soul gone now, bade the evil good bye. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Venom of hatred receded, jealously no bitterness, Longing to assist someone, is there so eagerness. Sipping now drop of love, peace in me glorify. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Light of wisdom arrived, Night of ignorance gone. All my grief ended, joy in life has come. Riding at the peak of virtue, now I am flying high. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Now no conflict here and nothing is hue & cry. Now only truth here ,  no place for any lie. Diving I am deep into ocean of bliss O' thy, Ajay Amitabh Suman Ajay Amitabh Suman
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41
1325 Knock with tremor— These are Caesars— Should they be at Home Flee as if you trod unthinking On the Foot of Doom— These receded to accostal Centuries ago— Should they rend you with “How are you” What have you to show?
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2k
Knock with tremor—
A stiff wind broke the morning clouds. It was another gloomy sunrise, in a string of second-rate days. Kiera woke much like the sun, downtrodden and wishing to fall back down. She snapped down on the alarm, knocking it to the floor, and with two blinks was out again—back into a world she was beginning to recognise. First the flooding darkness. Despite two weeks of this her body still rejected it. Her body hated it. Pathetic. Limbless shakes as the throbbing chill tore its way through her lungs, gripped her skin like sweat. She could smell the sharp stink of iron. When her vision came she saw her arms were covered in blood. A red too bright. A figure she hadn’t noticed flickered out of her view. She turned her head sharply but saw no one. Kiera realised she was walking. She held a square, brown-wrapped package, which would not stop squirming. As she struggled to keep hold of the ******* thing, ****** prints coated its sides. A postbox lay on the other side of the road—the same colour as the blood on her arms. Kiera was furious. The ******* package would not stop squirming. She needed to reach the postbox before she dropped it. She was desperate—scared shitless. Why? Kiera began to cross the road. Each step sent the package twitching, twisting. Her legs were bone thin. Her skin was shredding apart. Another flicker—edge of the vision phantom—appeared, but she barely noticed. The package was growing so heavy that her toes were breaking on the asphalt. She looked up and saw the postbox had receded.  *How dare you? How ******* dare you, you piece of **** She was on the wrong side. She had never left the sidewalk. How could she? She had no legs. Blood began to pour out of the postbox. It crossed the road, coating her torso, lapping the bottom of the package. The package stilled and began to deform in her hands. It was rotting. Kiera had an urge to *****
0
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
Stillborn
A stiff wind broke the morning clouds. It was another gloomy sunrise, in a string of second-rate days. Kiera woke much like the sun, downtrodden and wishing to fall back down. She snapped down on the alarm, knocking it to the floor, and with two blinks was out again—back into a world she was beginning to recognise. First the flooding darkness. Despite two weeks of this her body still rejected it. Her body hated it. Pathetic. Limbless shakes as the throbbing chill tore its way through her lungs, gripped her skin like sweat. She could smell the sharp stink of iron. When her vision came she saw her arms were covered in blood. A red too bright. A figure she hadn’t noticed flickered out of her view. She turned her head sharply but saw no one. Kiera realised she was walking. She held a square, brown-wrapped package, which would not stop squirming. As she struggled to keep hold of the ******* thing, ****** prints coated its sides. A postbox lay on the other side of the road—the same colour as the blood on her arms. Kiera was furious. The ******* package would not stop squirming. She needed to reach the postbox before she dropped it. She was desperate—scared shitless. Why? Kiera began to cross the road. Each step sent the package twitching, twisting. Her legs were bone thin. Her skin was shredding apart. Another flicker—edge of the vision phantom—appeared, but she barely noticed. The package was growing so heavy that her toes were breaking on the asphalt. She looked up and saw the postbox had receded.  *How dare you? How ******* dare you, you piece of **** She was on the wrong side. She had never left the sidewalk. How could she? She had no legs. Blood began to pour out of the postbox. It crossed the road, coating her torso, lapping the bottom of the package. The package stilled and began to deform in her hands. It was rotting. Kiera had an urge to *****
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8
Wave after wave we rode the highs, Steadying our footing before the next rise, It all crashes into laughter and the salty foam, Time flew by as the clouds framed the setting sun, Lighting our path as the time came to head back home. I lived in the fleeting moments loving the rush of being alive, Forgetting about the dark night that lay over the horizon, As we crossed the threshold back into our abode, The interlude ended as the last light receded from the windows, Leaving me in unattended in the murk of my thoughts. Unequipped for the blackness that glared at me, I searched for a glimmer of a forgotten dream, There was once a fire that shone bright my hopes & ambitions, Not even embers remain that I may stoke a new flame, Aimlessly I move through the motions of the daily mundane. Slowly collapsing under the unbearable weight, Wishing that I could find meaning in life, Or give up altogether and end it tonight, "Why am I even here?" Echoes back at me from the dark, I fear there is nothing else left for me here.
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Nov 13, 2022
Nov 13, 2022 at 3:33 PM UTC
Mundane
I, round the brae of Howth in chalky light, Lamented my lot more spent in sport than play. There, land appeared disinterested and sight Was a teary well. Cold was the shivering day, And my frame, a ghost of shadow, was erased,  It receded like the fog.  Just then, overhead I saw brave birds engaged, a raptor traced A mourning dove’s faltering flight, how it fed Its own shining sense of purpose, for not Wanton sport or lordly state do falcons So hunt, nor did the bird in peril belabour His reason, rather he tried avoiding those talons. A question answered itself within my breadth, Survival resides in a pageantry of death.
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Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC
I, Round the Brae of Howth
The golden tinge of sun pierced the cloud But the mangrove held onto its dark cloak She hid somewhere between the light and shadow When from one irresistible daze I awoke. Unbeknownst flamed up the rocks salt white Dry since the waves receded beyond the ******* A cold loneliness crept up in the spell broken light As if eons had passed without the sight of her. Then one seagull’s spriteful fish dream shriek Motioned me up from the vacuous stupor Buzzed each sand grain all years’ unborn speak Was to be seized this moment and tell her. The wind having carried the voice of her name Spread it across the mangrove and far From the receding waves rose a rising flame When in her hug beneath an acacia I found her.
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:21 AM UTC
Beneath An Acacia
~ Vast... Nigh unknowable Quilt stretching out over incalculable intervals and distances… Pulling. Churning. Alternating between different frames of reference Spinning me nauseas Look at our local surroundings Such activity above! Mere minutes before the untrained eye Takes notice of The movers, Slowly wandering across the speckled expanse The fire has receded into its undulating orange-gray hideout The satellites are so numerous now… And the red-orange glow illumines your cheek, your neck, and your flyaway hair. A distant owl A dog’s hollow cry rings out echoing off of the hill Sending this gang into high alert
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Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
Vast
I feel your presence, your spirit near I remember warmth, but you're not here. What once was joy has now receded Gentleness gone, and grace impeded Did I give too much, or stay too long? Did I try too hard, or my words prolong? The vows remembered, naive elation Disloyalty now begs cessation. Trust now lost. The struggle painful Thoughts of another's touch disdainful You feel my presence, you wipe my tear You remember warmth, but I'm not here. We move as robots, time seems long Together now; forever gone.
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Jan 25, 2011
Jan 25, 2011 at 6:45 PM UTC
Gone.