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Baylee Sep 2015
Three day old
Store-bought mac and cheese,
That has been reheated
Twice
But the cheese and macaroni
Have started to separate,
The cheese clumping together,
And despite the scortching corners
Of the dinner,
In it's store container,
There are large sections
That are as cold as the fridge.
It's like you warmed it back up
Using nothing but your
Low powered hair drier.
It tastes like poverty feels.
Makenzie Marie Mar 2015
One minute
my body is sreaming,
shreiking;
It's deafening,
the roaring inside me.
Excruciating.
It's
tearing
at the seams
it seems.
In that minute
the pain is searing,
scortching,
It's blinding fire raging
and burning
up every bit of me.
It's debilitating.
An angry
sharp,
sore,
stiff,
stabbing,
torturously
unending
pain.

And suddenly
with the magic
of medication
it's becoming
fuzzy.
I'd like to thank modern medicine.
Lou Oct 2018
My depression is like being on fire and putting out the flames is hard cause it's like an oil fire where normal tactics don't work.

People will try and give me advice. "STOP. DROP. ROLL" Which in any fire situation is super helpful advice and I'm super thankful someone tried to help me out at all.

So I'm rolling around in flames now and nothing is happening to cease the anxiety. Literally I feel like it's getting worse the more I roll around on the ground with my peers still shouting out advice or better ways to roll.

Now some are so kind that they may roll around with me to show me how easily done it is to dismiss the feelings and 3rd degree burns but really it's a disaster.

A community of rollers find me and we chat online and share rolling techniques and controversies of fire related deaths, support systems and rallies to end our fires by government mandated fire extinguishers for everyone. The fire hurts less that day.

Weeks are going by and I'm here still on fire but now there is a heard of rolling people with me, rolling like potato bugs or how people roll playdoh. Whom inadvertently draw in more people and experts on fire to give advice and some kind enough to roll around as well but they aren't there just for me but because people see their loved ones on the ground rolling, so they assume they are on fire too. Which is great, please help us.

So now news sparks of awareness scortching the nation that people are on fire. So campaigns are established and wristbands with "STOP. DROP. ROLL." on them being sold. Celebrties rolling on TV, talking about their oil fires. Have weeks like, "People on fire Awareness week" and petitions for every American getting the divine chance to get their own fire extinguisher covered by an agreed medical plan.  Which then people who think the fire is a lie gain a voice, even when talking to people on fire. They claim false accusations and attention seeking from lazy rolling people. Also a small group  of nihilist emerge with the belief of letting the flames **** people. No one listens to the nihilist, thankfully.

This all creates this unique  debate of flaming people ethics between multiple sides. People rolling. People showing people how to roll. People debating on the technique of the roll. The people who want people to have fire extinguishers provided by the government. Those who disagree with the concept of fire and then those who don't have an opinion or want the world to burn. Yet still even with all the coverage, attention and debate people a still on fire and no one is bothering to ask how.

So back to me still hot with embers but not feeling so warm. Dissociate deeper with bubbled skin but come to it enough to address my problem even though I am discouraged by all the attention people on fire have been getting and internally debating on if I am burning that bad.

I live with burn marks and scars but i dream of one day having the ability and strength, to jump into a body of water and cool off with steam blistering off my skin and smile back at those who roll and say "I'm fine and you can be too."

All I ever need is time and a cool place to ease my flames.
This isn't a poem but a short metaphorical self and worldly analysis of depression and how it gets treated. It's funny because I need humor to cope. Hope you can relate.
CE Jun 2018
I feel the running water with the index finger on my left hand

and though I can't tell if its scortching or freezing

but it gives my skin the burning feeling
so I hold my wrist there like a muddy boot that I'm trying to clear the grime off
Help me smile again
The inks running thin while the sun sets and pins jab at my head.
A needle was never found in the hay stack so it just sank in my memory bank.
The lakes, the streams, the rivers of endless memories of you and me.
The chemicals released when you kissed me.
It was more than nothing like lava flowing, scortching everything in it's path.
Like my whole body was turning to ash and I was just waiting, melting slowly.
Help me smile again.
On the otherside of the rainbow,  nobody knows the sights as sore as your eyes the night we fought for the first time.
And the butterflies flew, even with clipped wings.
It was a never ending storm,  signaling for the light tower in the thickest of fog, the ray of hope never peaked its eyes or ever hollard for a sign of life.
We sunk that night.
And i think im still drowning.
Calling for land, searching for signs of life, hoping to grow wings like the birds alluding nearby land, before this wooden life raft gives out from underneath me.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.there were always three songs from the 80s that we, more or less elusive... since i wasn't someone who frequently listened to the radio, i'd hear these songs - on an off perhaps once a year - at a particular time, notably travelling - or there would be some modern revamp to suit the trance-kids... midnight oil's - beds are burning, men at work - down under - well... not so much... the best example would have to be... 1984s... nik kershaw's - the riddle... i mean the lyrics are mind-boggling: near a tree by a river
                  there's a hole in the ground
                  where an old man of Aran
                  goes around and around
                  and his mind is a beacon
                  in the veil of the night
                  for a strange kind of fashion
                  there's a wrong and a right
                  but he'll never, never fight over you...
well the song is primarily about the Irish immigrants that went off to h'America - blessings of Babylon - the arms, the guild of hammers and sickles and all that to boost an honest's man honest's wage for labour... what else? the old man of Aran is a ref. to the 1934  Robert J. Flaherty documentary: Man or Aran... for i see no reason to celebrate this song in a modern fiasco... the tune: if you only like the tune... you might as well tell me... that d.j. Tiesto is going to revamp chris the burgh's - a spaceman came travelling... because that's just gonna happen! although i imagine myself writing the odd scribble about... a young man and his storm petrel - of Tindhólmur...


it really has been this sort of day -
to be rudely interrupted by still clinging friends of
the family dropping by, for the hey! surprise
at 8pm on a Monday evening -
staying up till after 10pm...
distorting the plans of me cutting down on drinking...
you don't just drop uninvited -
not scheduled - perhaps in a war torn part
of the world like Iraq...
and you're the U.S.A. pilot of a drone
that killed the son of some wisened Mesopotamian
who offers you tea with tears
and he doesn't understand your words
and then the grandson runs in and wants
to sell you all the eggs...
because the old man just didn't want the money
like that... but that's a cruel situation...
not in England, not in Germany do you
just appear on someone's door at 8pm
with covert blah-blah to reach a ****** of
the real reason for the "happy dropping by"...
it's a Monday... a happy happenstance can
occur in a cafe - on neutral territory -
not when - it's polite to serve coffee and tea
and cakes... it's a Monday!
there are no excuses!

now i see it... how i will ever stop drinking as
much as i have...
there is simply no satisfaction from a good night's
sleep anymore -
it needs to be corrected -
i had to start thinking that my insomnia is
a prerequisite for my brain to explore foreign
lands of... what will become of this verbiage...
until i come to last conclusions...
hardly alcohol widthrawl symptoms -
but you can just imagine -
a sensation of a ghost of my cat that i suspected
was killed by my "neighbour"
jumping onto the bed and making gentle
indentations in the cotton of the bedsheats...
not quiet alseep - somehow sleeping -
more hallucinations of the Mengu
/おもmen頬yoroi/ - i will not even delve
into something i know nothing about...
read: error... had to look for...
the simpler japanese i know exists...
i don't even know whether the stated kun'yomi
looks any better to the on'yomi メン...
and the wikipedia entry for (yoroi) doesn't
even exist!
but that's how the insomnia brain works it seems...
it needs to be somewhere between borderline
sleep deprivation and no sleep at all...
or at least pseudo-sleep and pseudo-dreams:
hallucinations - not visual or auditory as such...
imagine the sensation of a cat jumping
onto your bed and feeling the gentle indentations
of him walking next to your lying body?
you can't exactly find the right sort of amount
of sleep... sometimes stretches of 8 or so hours
leave you... exhausted the next day -
with a sort of vocabulary that should be waiting
in line for a retirement home and pear pulp
and a mash and roast beef milkshake to slurp up!
too much sleep is no good for the brain...
but then too little is no good for the body...
it's a fine balance... if i find it... well...

to take a beer for a walk at night -
the 2nd day of frost -
to see the stars with more lucidity
of them being exfoliated by the endless prism
of frost on the cold and hardening concrete...
paparazzi camera epilepsykrieg of a red-carpet...
under the most visible constellation
of  Scorpio

                            •
                       •
                  •
    

                         •           )צ(
                           •

                                             •                  
                  •

illuminations of the tsade... and ayin (ע)... mah-zahl
akh-ravh - oh i'm sure the hebrews to treat
the H as surd akin to the sacred raj hindu
of sanskrit... what saved them that would have never
saved the "red" indians?
the "blue" indians had sanskrit and...
a culinary arsenal of spices... which was appealing
to some little people of Norwich and Bristol
who became just became bored of rosemary,
thyme - parsley and dill.

words can at best become merely co-ordinates...
you would have to walk these same streets
at these specific times of the year -
the second frost of winter -
a clear sky -
dogs barking in the background -
foxes if... are rather exotic when they start
performing: mate-calling...
the odd crow insomnia that croaks
in flight at night...
this suckling vacuum of air exploring
a near infinite distance of astmophere
coming into a horizon with the nothingness
of space and the celestial mechanics of
the orbs - the traffic of Eastern Ave.
toward Southend in the background -
no wind... the sound of a kosher goat
taking another glug glug from a bottle
of beer - the gentle scortching of smoked
tobacco in a cigarette being dragged (inhaled)...
perhaps a very distsant sound of a train
chuggling along -
the dogs barking at the cold...
the dogs barking at the cold...
the inability to hear one's own footsteps...
a mania for the night and all the seven if not
more delights of taking a walk alone at night.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2018
not being funny...

but what is
      the single exmaple

of q lazzarus':
          goodbye horses,

not being equivalent to
                               the smiths':
                          oeuvre?

ah...
       the example of
                         where it was used,
    in a plagiarism of
the tragedy of the life of
                                          ed gein?

which was the fuel for much
of 20th century
     music and film?

forget attempts to change
the world:
  i'm here to make an account,

given i wasn't born ****-naked
in the last remains of
earth before people take
to mars exploration...
   "seriously"...

  itching a hand-gesture
of attempting to elongate my
****** hair...
  like being fidgety with a
nose about to sneeze...

    whatever remains of
the european spirit of the wind...
in music,
   and has been replaced
by the afrtican drum spirit...
      
     europe, air,
   africa, earth,
             c'mon!
   what are the reamining band
members of the greek elemental?!
water: who's that?
    what is fluid?
  ah! thai boy georges!
                 asia is water!

         fire... who's that?!
of the people almost extinct...
    apachí....
                 wavering candle
           in the dim of night...
sioux minus the banshees + the pixies...

ah ha ha...
   now we're talking
the mad-boys of nuclear winter
newcastle and manchester,
  running ****-naked in
what remains of avenues of
essex...

            and they went to
the moon to make resolutions
of clarifying the telescope...
and came back...
   bewildered by the natives of
the amazon having escaped
the colonialist history...

         god: the scortching effect!
ouch!

         i'm literally not here,
no social project, no asylum policy
could, or would house me...

          but i'm in love with
the current faking of:
the circus that is actually taking place...
and it's not even remotely
attempting to be hidden!

           one q lazzarus song...
and suddenly the smiths oeuvre
disappears...
            under the dead weight
    of attempting to make sheep weep.
Lou Oct 18
My depression is like being on fire and putting out the flames is hard cause it's like an oil fire where normal tactics don't work.

People will try and give me advice. "STOP. DROP. ROLL" Which in any fire situation is super helpful advice and I'm super thankful someone tried to help me out at all.

So I'm rolling around in flames now and nothing is happening to cease the anxiety. Literally I feel like it's getting worse the more I roll around on the ground with my peers still shouting out advice or better ways to roll.

Now some are so kind that they may roll around with me to show me how easily done it is to dismiss the feelings and 3rd degree burns but really it's a disaster.

A community of rollers find me and we chat online and share rolling techniques and controversies of fire related deaths, support systems and rallies to end our fires by government mandated fire extinguishers for everyone. The fire hurts less that day.

Weeks are going by and I'm here still on fire but now there is a heard of rolling people with me, rolling like potato bugs or how people roll playdoh. Whom inadvertently draw in more people and experts on fire to give advice and some kind enough to roll around as well but they aren't there just for me but because people see their loved ones on the ground rolling, so they assume they are on fire too. Which is great, please help us.

So now news sparks of awareness scortching the nation that people are on fire. So campaigns are established and wristbands with "STOP. DROP. ROLL." on them being sold. Celebrties rolling on TV, talking about their oil fires. Have weeks like, "People on fire Awareness week" and petitions for every American getting the divine chance to get their own fire extinguisher covered by an agreed medical plan.  Which then people who think the fire is a lie gain a voice, even when talking to people on fire. They claim false accusations and attention seeking from lazy rolling people. Also a small group  of nihilist emerge with the belief of letting the flames **** people. No one listens to the nihilist, thankfully.

This all creates this unique  debate of flaming people ethics between multiple sides. People rolling. People showing people how to roll. People debating on the technique of the roll. The people who want people to have fire extinguishers provided by the government. Those who disagree with the concept of fire and then those who don't have an opinion or want the world to burn. Yet still even with all the coverage, attention and debate people a still on fire and no one is bothering to ask how.

So back to me still hot with embers but not feeling so warm. Dissociate deeper with bubbled skin but come to it enough to address my problem even though I am discouraged by all the attention people on fire have been getting and internally debating on if I am burning that bad.

I live with burn marks and scars but i dream of one day having the ability and strength, to jump into a body of water and cool off with steam blistering off my skin and smile back at those who roll and say "I'm fine and you can be too."

All I ever need is time and a cool place to ease my flames.
Wrote this October 18th 2018. Sharing cause of personal growth.

— The End —