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"semblence" poems
I awaken to find my mind either a complete blur, a fuzzy, foggy place, or a place of a maelstrom of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, some from the previous day, some from even before that. Electrifying anxiety, paralyzing fear, crippling doubt and depression are the orders of the day, when I fully awaken. I eat, then take my pills, to get my thoughts in some semblence of order. I go through the day, feeling trapped by problems my medications cannot control. I find myself either blaming everything and everyone else for said problems, or ripping out my own entrails as I blame myself - one extreme or another. I have visions, dreams, hopes of success, but then my depression, or whatever it is, kicks in, and wipes out those dreams, reducing me to a mess of shattered hopes and dreams. This is why I spend most of my days on tumblr, where people see me for who I am, but even there, people judge and discriminate against me, for whatever I have. On tumblr, I have friends that I roleplay out various characters with, different personalities, sometimes variations of myself take shape. Tumblr is the only place where I can seemingly have a reality in which I have control. The Internet is my portal to reality, my line of defense against what could be described as agoraphobia. But I still desire the company of people my own age, physically, rather than electronically, but I do not have the same interests of most of them, and am scared to death of doing so. The very thought of meeting a large group, or even an individual, sends me into a panic attack-like state, then I fall quickly into a state of depression because of that. I hate myself for that anxiety, the awkwardness I have. Loathe is the correct word. This is why I hide behind a computer screen. It may not be perfect, but I find it easier to interact online. I do not know how to translate how my characters act to my own actions, as some have suggested for me to do. I have been told that I need to choose to get out of this hole in which I am trapped. It is a struggle every day to even get enough energy to care, much less try to get out of the hole. The only way out is by climbing a steep cliff, covered by snow and ice, cut by the howling, bone-chilling wind, with only two hooks, in my hands, to claw my way out, fighting the falling snow and ice, occasional rock and hail, sleet too. There seems to be no place to make a camp, where I may rest, only the long, arduous, grueling climb, my vertical trek, my seemingly Sisyphean task that awaits me. A choice that may seemingly **** me. People have suggested that I turn to the supernatural, but that is a fool’s bet, a folly of hope, a wish of the people who build their castles in the sky.
0
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
Anxiety of life
I awaken to find my mind either a complete blur, a fuzzy, foggy place, or a place of a maelstrom of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, some from the previous day, some from even before that. Electrifying anxiety, paralyzing fear, crippling doubt and depression are the orders of the day, when I fully awaken. I eat, then take my pills, to get my thoughts in some semblence of order. I go through the day, feeling trapped by problems my medications cannot control. I find myself either blaming everything and everyone else for said problems, or ripping out my own entrails as I blame myself - one extreme or another. I have visions, dreams, hopes of success, but then my depression, or whatever it is, kicks in, and wipes out those dreams, reducing me to a mess of shattered hopes and dreams. This is why I spend most of my days on tumblr, where people see me for who I am, but even there, people judge and discriminate against me, for whatever I have. On tumblr, I have friends that I roleplay out various characters with, different personalities, sometimes variations of myself take shape. Tumblr is the only place where I can seemingly have a reality in which I have control. The Internet is my portal to reality, my line of defense against what could be described as agoraphobia. But I still desire the company of people my own age, physically, rather than electronically, but I do not have the same interests of most of them, and am scared to death of doing so. The very thought of meeting a large group, or even an individual, sends me into a panic attack-like state, then I fall quickly into a state of depression because of that. I hate myself for that anxiety, the awkwardness I have. Loathe is the correct word. This is why I hide behind a computer screen. It may not be perfect, but I find it easier to interact online. I do not know how to translate how my characters act to my own actions, as some have suggested for me to do. I have been told that I need to choose to get out of this hole in which I am trapped. It is a struggle every day to even get enough energy to care, much less try to get out of the hole. The only way out is by climbing a steep cliff, covered by snow and ice, cut by the howling, bone-chilling wind, with only two hooks, in my hands, to claw my way out, fighting the falling snow and ice, occasional rock and hail, sleet too. There seems to be no place to make a camp, where I may rest, only the long, arduous, grueling climb, my vertical trek, my seemingly Sisyphean task that awaits me. A choice that may seemingly **** me. People have suggested that I turn to the supernatural, but that is a fool’s bet, a folly of hope, a wish of the people who build their castles in the sky.
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1
Life, will take your hands and break every tendon in your fingers Life, will rip your fingernails off like the 12th ticket in Stop&Shop;'s deli counter line the cold, dead selects you purchase by the ounce for weekly lunches remind us all of the patience we practice each day Patiently waiting in line patiently waiting to buy He's waiting for her to text back and she is waiting for her heart to attack She's been hearing the war for years now, gunshot reminders and grenade bombers explode through her bloodstream to haunt any destiny of peace We want you to be Okay everyone wants some semblence of comfort but there are needles in my eardrums the music isn't piercing me anymore I miss notes and sailboats streaming into me I know where they are but my fingers are limp Life will numb your fingers so when your mother buys you gloves and hats on your birthday muster the golden mustard stained napkin in your heart and wipe the selfish tears A piano is unrealistic, that opportunity passed years ago Be thankful for the very light reflecting off of the silverware, remember Life will never be simple or fair you will always be here but wish you are there Sometimes you will feel like nobody cares and that's alright nobody has to care except for the gremlins that live inside my hair
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Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
The Gremlins wrote this
Trust, honesty And mutual respect Are these things We forget Or things We neglect For our friends We attempt A semblence Of intent For our lovers We invent Illusions of What's best
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Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
Online Dating
your eyes are pearls drawn they sing to me from deep beneath any semblence of light the water glimmers gold above like the sun has has cast its lot and waits for judgement day. sweet and fair we call our loves and sweet and fair they be but when the knotted limbs grow rough it's the sea that waits for thee and take your crown of stars and see it fits your head for when the the stars come toppling down that's all that shall be left. more precious to me than all the pearls in the sea were your teeth, laughing.
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Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
a coronet of pearls
diaphanous.... are we... in the bigger reality... mere wisps of fragility.... our thoughts... the epitome... of self indulgent verbosity... creating... the semblence of sodality... in the spinning... duality.. of the mediocrity versus... creativity paradigm... apparent in all of nature's... sublime... totality...........
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Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
sheer wonder
chasing yellow brick roads leads only to windmills wound around over-ThinkHearSee-ing till eventually you find nothing but faults of your own and the doubts which trickled up now reversed to waterfalls cascading upon old hearts to freeze any semblence of feeling wait Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. You will love Again
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Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 6:42 AM UTC
breathe
there is a perfect semblence between the forest and the trees when you see the world as the world would see it.
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Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
aslightlyperfectvision