Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ruby Nemo Jul 2018
There comes a time in man's gentle endeavors in which their person flutters through. Not perfect, not even close. When all of the essentials are blatantly missing, but nevertheless you chase. And it's not the chase; it cannot be, because that chase is distinguishable from all else.

Though still, the heavy burden provokes. Why? Well, man may claim the uncertainty of such an underdeveloped string of emotions, yet in some fashion this is utterly obscure. If my opinions not be discerned from a folly fool, let my brain be put to rest!

No, I say, it is much deeper than that. When simple dining becomes strenuous, and the tear ducts loose, another vague instance is to blame. It is not the result of a mere first glance. It is not the result of the wave of a hand. Hell, it is not even that which has evolved from a childish fling. It is something called My Person Condition.

And it is more complex, still. It is worthy of noting that a condition is identified in a modified fashion. See that this is no disease, no ailment, no illness. An unfortunate victim has no hopes of returning to their former, less-impaired self, but their opinions are clouded so fully that this, to them, brings upon great advantages. Yet the scars and piercing truths that lurk within MPC prove to be a particularly heavy load for most to carry.

The earliest symptoms may include the following: loss of appetite, perspiration, anxious breathing, spotted vision, hallucinations, reclusiveness, futuristic thoughts, rage, severe bipolar tendencies, self-contradiction, loss of sleep, loss of energy, sorrow, hopefulness, nightmares, and ****** rejection resulting in extractions such as emesis, urination, and excessive bleeding. Patients will also find difficulty in restricting their thoughts to those which do not include their person. The danger that lies within this condition is extensive, but can be overturned with the proper care and medical attention.

Perhaps I have refrained from discussing the most detrimental force assigned to any MPC sufferer, and that is the false sense of progression of mental feelings of stability. As days move on, and nights drag out into the next, new faces are introduced at an increasingly rapid rate. This can be destructive in the sense that the victim will gain a false grip on reality. They will reject further treatment, stand down in a circulation of positive vibrations, and cease to recall the importance of their continuous efforts against their condition.

A day rolls around in several years. They share feelings of gratitude and affection with another being, pretending that their person has left their mind for good. Until the radio threatens to remind them of so long ago, the compulsive nights that were spent in pursuit of an extra pinch of knowledge. Until the box fills the patient's ears with a sweet melodic voice spun from pure gold and coated in the finest finish. MPC revives itself like a flame inside their heart, inside their bloodstream. Renewal flows through their veins at a painless rate - until a grin spreads across their face, their head is turned back around, and there they are.
My Person.
07-06-18
Katelyn Rew Jun 2014
Nothing is as beautiful as the transformation of the human face.
The journey of a smile as it licks at the lips and dances into the eyes.
The adventure of laughter as it opens the mouth and tickles the throat.
The reclusiveness of sadness as it travels down the cheeks and wets them with tears.
The intensity of concentration as it furrows the brow and quickens the breath.
The turmoil of fear as it flares the nostrils and grinds the teeth.
The restfulness of sleep as it closes the eyelids and brings relief.
brandon nagley May 2015
Gusto affairs spiraled to marooned stairs!!

Amphibious angel,
Where art thou own wings?
Apparent your sanctioning is,
Appointee of marital status!!!

Anthropologist of creations new madness,
Armful arousist!!
Arrogant aspirant!!!!

We are all baggage carriers of used goods,
Bestowed to thy own selves thou ******* of crud!!!!!

Very few bonuses this time around,
For the metropolis hath gone broke and choked!!!

For oil runneth this deliveranth!!!

Bind thy own,
You biggot of brigaded quarters!!!
None to coincide with ,
No cognac love to filleth me with cocoa nestled swifts!!!

Engrossment of shufflers, greasers to seventies sneakers,
Esteemed of high retailer goods!!!

Distinction between euphemisms blame!!!
Highed tops to spindle games,

Atrocious calibrations!!!!

Such tiredness flees the crime felt page,
Who's enraged?

Refute novelties of javahouse breaks,
Wherein assemblers are all members of cafe corner states!!!!

Paxilheads to axlehead drinkers,

Some material like,
Some medicinal thinkers!!!

How much shalt one taketh before his psyche leaves reclusiveness all behind the robust tower!!!!
Carl Halling Jun 2015
This place is always a little lonely
At the weekends...no noise and life;
I like solitude,
But not in places
Where's there's recently been
A lot of people.
Reclusiveness protects you
From nostalgia,
And you can be as nostalgic
In relation to what happened
Half an hour ago
As half a century ago, in fact more so.
                                                            
I went to the Xmas party.
I danced,
And generally lived it up.
I went to bed sad though.
Discos exacerbate
My sense of solitude.
My capacity for social warmth,
Excessive social dependence,
And romantic zeal,
Can be practically deranging;
It's no wonder I feel the need
To escape...
                                                       ­     
Escape from my own
Drastic social emotivity,
And devastating capacity
For loneliness.
I feel trapped here;
There's no
Outlet for my talents.
                                                        ­    
In such a state as this,
I could fall in love with anyone.
The night before last,
I went to the ball,
Couples filing out,  
I wanted to be half of every one,  
But I didn't want to lose * * *.  
I'll get over how I feel now,
And very soon.
Gradually I'll freeze again,
Even assuming an extra layer of snow.  
I have to get out of here.
A Cambridge Lamentation centres on my brief stay at a teacher training college contained within the University of Cambridge, with its campus at Hills Road just outside the city centre. A fusion of previously published pieces, it was primarily adapted from an unfinished and unsent letter, penned just before Christmas 1986, but never sent.
grace elle Feb 2015
First phase:
Car windows, cold ones, winter. You were three. To this day from time to time you'll put your fingertips against the glass because it reminds you of simple things from the past. You always thought the world looked looked like it was unhappy from back seats, like it was reflecting your own complacency.

Phase two:
Narcolepsy. You can't stay awake anymore because when you're awake it's like you're dreaming and surrounded by reclusiveness and weeping and when you're asleep it's like you're alive and you're hearts still beating.

Phase three:
Car windows, nonexistent, summer.
You were five, nine, ten, thirteen, fourteen, sixteen, and seventeen.
Songs. Nostalgia. Windows. Sun. Sticky air, air that smothers you. Smiles with people you love. Songs. Those **** songs.

Phase four:
Punching walls, kicking objects, throwing breakable things, slamming doors. Screaming so loud you make yourself cry.
I learned from the best.

Final phase:
Leaving.
L Meyer Oct 2013
Sister of truth,
and complicit in her reclusiveness,
pushing her beside
to hide behind your smile.

Her pressure builds,
begging for release.
A let valve, an eruption of emotion,  
the bursting of anything too inflated,

and I’m afraid I’ve conflated-

reality

with what happened that night,
chest deep in warm water.

Ephemeral evening of one last kiss, after one last kiss,
languid dance,
water helping to resist descent,
holding my heart afloat, to keep it from drowning
on your opulence.

Your mouth holds my secrets,
*****, like the martini you made me,
the two together, a palpable force,
keeping me lost
in the gossamer

that are

my thoughts

            of you.
Tammy M Darby May 2014
Treacherous word
My life has been tainted by this curse
Its cohorts of chaos
Caring, promises. affection.
Silk upon tender lips
A sweet confection

Recognition of this emotion
I steadfastly decline and deny
The heavy burden of memories
Poison of time
Love
I reject it as any intelligent mind would
Revile it as some pray they could
It is to be trapped in a web of sadness
No visible means of escape or hope

So banned it remains
My deepest wish forever lost
Un movable as a heavy stone
I desire a heart of ice
Reclusiveness is my fate
The terrible cost
The price

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright                    
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby April11, 2014
Thomas Halls Nov 2017
Bottle caps and bullet cases surround my feet, the glass beach of failed attempts at evading memories.

For all the things i let you put me through I still don't have the will to blame you.

I wish I could be weak in this moment, let my soul be seen but stuffing it down and shutting everyone out has become routine.

So I'll hang my tattered dolorous soul on the hook by the door. Exchanged for the vestigial smile I wear when reclusiveness isn't pragmatic anymore.

I'll pretend that each day doesn't bring me closer to shattering into a million crystalline pieces of who I was in memory.

And when the day is dead I'll climb back down inside my solace, and shed the burden of this emotional carapace

I'll remove my mask and wash away all the hate and fear from the dour face staring at me from the mirror.

I'll drown my soul and sink to the bottom of this internal sea. Into the world devoid of light, of sound, of memories.
Broken Arpeggio Sep 2017
Silence is deafening
My thoughts can no longer hide in the seams
The shadows have voices that are beckoning
I am stuck in a world of in-betweens

Darkness befriends the elusive
While honesty is embraced by the light
I created a maze of reclusiveness
The windings my approachable-self wants to fight

This type of existence is confining
The needing a breakthrough, but afraid of breaking free
I permitted my solitary life to define me
Instead of letting all the peering eyes see

The ebb and flow of being receptive
By allowing What Will Be...To Be
It is free-thinking from a different perspective
A stark contrast to the lonely life of ME
Ebony Kale May 2016
It was like a dream,
only it wasn't.
It was a reality,
all wrapped up in fantasy.
It was a fantastic exploration,
of what if.
It was a fearsome adventure,
only it didn't last.

There was a terrible storm,
then silence.
there were people everywhere,
yet no one felt close to me.
there was a strange frustration, and anger inside me,
yet on the outside I felt as calm as could be.
there were thick strings attached, holding me,
yet I felt too free.

When there should have been happiness,
I was sad.
When joy and fulfillment came,
I was empty and longing.
When God answered my prays,
I wondered why the others were left unanswered.
When I closed my eyes to sleep,
I wondered if the tears would ever stop.
When I breathed,
I wondered if each pull and push of air was worth suffering life.

Then I tried faith,
But it wouldn't stick
Then it was hardwork, and reclusiveness,
it was empty and heartbreaking.
Then I tried reason and logic,
and it broke my spirit.
Then I tried to love myself, but it hurt,
because love always hurts.

I woke up from my dream that wasn't a dream,
from the reality wrapped up in fantasy.
I was slapped with the world,
because it tried to fit in me,
as did all the people
i love.
When i woke i realized,
I couldn't take them, the world, and me.
There was only room for two.
One had to be me.
The other.....
was a tough choice.

I chose the world,
It hurt...
WendyStarry Eyes Apr 2018
A recluse is who
I am meant to be
A state that feels quite
Comfortable to me

Others sense
Reclusiveness as a fear
I see it as a path to draw
Me yet closer to my Father
Whom I am always near

No one ever seems to listen
To what I have to say, yes
They pretend, but do not
Grasp the way, it should
Not bother them if my presence
Is not with them day to day

They need me to run errands
And do daily chores
But listening to my voice
Well, that just makes them bored

I say let me live my life
Alone
I will do my best to help
You when your home

Do not expect so much
From me
I am a recluse
Leave me be
HA, HA, HEE, HEE
Josephine Wild Apr 2023
When I see quite the quiet quail,
I quiver.

When I spot the proud peacock prancing,
I ponder.

When I hear the wonderful warbling of the wood warbler,
I wander.

When I feel the reclusiveness of the rail,
I remember.

When you retreat into the reeds,
I reset.

When in Reason’s nest,
my mind may rest.

You were a feather in the wind,
when I
was the young breeze
beneath your tired wings.
I like when it’s just noise and not chatter. Words are distracting because even though It’m not listening directly my mind clicks on in an area of my brain that I wish to let sleep sometimes. Which if you knew me you would understand how ironic that is.

I did not speak until I was three. My grandmother used to tell my mother to “enjoy it now. Once she starts talking she will never shut up.” She was spot on.

I used to talk so fast most would assume I was auctioning off cattle. The truth was I was auctioning off presence. Prattling away like a hen. I am now returning to my original state of verbal silence.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE words but I don’t think in words. I think in pictures of moving senses. I use words to try and describe the current of those senses when I step out of their embrace to shift into a worded mind. It’s exhausting sometimes and exuberant at others but always disengaging from where I prefer to be. That’s not to say I’m a recluse. I am decidedly not but I do like reclusiveness.
kirk Apr 2020
You've been washing them frequently it's Alanis Morissette at 40 with "Hands Clean"
Is there any sign of life at Number 39 it's Duran Duran with "Planet Earth"
Education facilities are shut it's Alice Cooper at 38 with "Schools Out"
In at 37 The question on everybody's lips is "When Will I See You Again" by The Three Degrees
Number 36 The government would definitely approve it's Fever Ray with "Keep The Streets Empty For Me"
Hanging out with all the boys is no longer fun at 35 It's the Village People with "Y.M.C.A"
At Number 34 It might be too late for Michael Jackson to "Heal the world"
They should have dropped them earlier at 33 it's T'pau with "China In Your Hand"
Will the lockdown ever end or is it "The Day That Never Comes" its Metallica at Number 32
In at 31 We're just one out of many it's Culture Club with "Victims"
Touching and kissing could prove fatal at 30 it's Alice Cooper with "Poison"
Don't slip into reclusiveness it's Gotye at Number 29 with "Somebody That I Used To Know"
At 28 Respiratory systems are affected it's Berlin with "Take My Breath Away"
Number 27 Everyone's warned to stay away it's Patty Loveless with "Keep Your Distance"
The contagion is spreading rapidly at 26 it's Killing Joke with "I Am The Virus"
At Number 25 The average age of a Vietnam Combat Soldier is the same as Covid It's Paul Hardcaslte with "19"
We've been cooped up for weeks it's Alter Bridge at Number 24 with "Isolation"
At 23 Our towns and city's are infected it's System Of A Down with "Toxicity
Number 22 If enough protective equipment is not supplied it's "Blood On The Words Hands" by Iron Maiden
I can see you but only from afar it's Alice Cooper at Number 21 with "Might As Well Be On Mars"
Disclaimer:
During this rundown some artists and singers appear more than once, this is not favouritism towards anyone in particular but more to do with the titles used to fit in with the current situation and themes, although certain artists are used multiple times I hope this wont effect any entertainment value of what is trying to be accomplished
Jordan P Sanders Oct 2020
Letting Go

My past is haunted with your memory,
it quakes when I put myself out there
to meet someone new,
someone who I hope isn’t like you

It’s not that you’re bad
or inexcusably uncouth,
it’s that you were everything
I wanted until
I learned the truth

The truth is that I’ve lived in
my imagination since I was
small
wishing for a girl to give my life
meaning by loving the
shy little boy too scared
to share his feelings

I envisioned a hippy girl with a
penchant for reclusiveness,
one whose wild spirit
saved me from
uselessness

I was a wandering poet with no direction in life
A floater in existence looking for his wife
I wanted a soulmate to fill this empty void
A romance whose purity couldn’t be destroyed

I yearned for a damsel in a sunflower dress
A girl’s whose energy shined like a crest
She had to be beautiful, creative, and smart
I wouldn’t settle for a girl with a cold hardened heart

It seemed like a dream when we finally met
A feeling washed over me I couldn’t forget
You captured my heart in a lovers fever
I promised myself I’d never deceive her

Time progressed as a hurricane’s breath
blew cyclonic winds into our nest,
the tides of darkness began to infest
a relationship built on childish dreams,
fantasies like hypnotism that obfuscate
passion with abusive screams

Hear the rapping at the cellar door,
it’s tapping morse code and forebodes
the roads we have travelled will diverge,
it says our shadow essence will emerge
purified after we project the black inside
on the light we aspire to contrive

You see, I was a naïve boy with a heart of gold
who risked it all in an act so bold that even
God was flabbergasted,
I pledged my allegiance to you in a moment of deep despair,
when my soul was laid bare before the altar of grief,
I cried in your car and felt total relief,
then we made love in your backseat

But now, I pledge allegiance only to myself,
an undying reverence to my ability to cultivate
internal beauty, sophistication, and wealth,
to maintain my physical and mental health,
to find love without destroying my identity,
to live in the present without soulful indemnity,
to share my heart with careful consideration,
to not lose myself in aesthetic infatuation,
to trust my gift of artful intuition,
to trust my gut when it alerts my suspicion,
to let go of a loyalty that was never earned,
to let go of a woman whose bridge I’ve burned

What I felt was not love
but the heart’s pangs for attention,
an ascension to being the most important
person in the eyes of another,
to be chosen as The One,
as someone’s lover

Everything I ever wanted,
only
it was the wrong person
only
I wasn’t ready for real commitment
only
I did it because I was lonely

Give me peace or give me death
      the brokenhearted alcoholic’s breath
Fill my veins with renewed conviction
      an IV of restored positive intention
Take my hand at the dawn of the new moon
      the man inside will be here soon

Memories live in me as music
Lyrics are the electricity in my brain
Every word unlocks a door to self
And now,
now I’m dropping the drawbridge.
Travis Green Oct 2021
If you keep crushing my heart
You are going to lose your star
I won’t be disrespected anymore
I know the love that I deserve
And if you can’t give me that
I won’t have any choice
But to be on my way
I refuse to be abused
By you anymore

I won’t spend another night
Crying in the bathroom
Staring at myself in the mirror
A bruised beauty covered
In deep-red scars
My eyes swollen
My nose broken
My lips filled with
Blackened dreams

I can’t do this anymore
I know that if I stay any longer
I won’t live to see the future
As much as I love you
I must turn you loose
To concentrate on loving myself more
I need to take time for me
To be in reclusiveness
Find the beautiful woman
That lies deep inside me
The one brimming with dreams
Ready to shimmer for the world to see

— The End —