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"steamroll" poems
You barged right in with not a care in the world Of how deeply I'd fall and hit the ground I knew I'd fell, for I hurt inside But I could still be falling, there's no end in sight Like Alice in a wonderland nothing seems quite right Still I drink your potion readily and prepare to hold on tight I catch you in my dream hoping you'll stay the entire night My subconscious has a knowing, I'll be alone by morning light Every time I get back up and dust myself down You just steamroll right back through me, knocking me out My palms left sweaty my mouth left dry As I wonder if my feelings can lie For here things aren't what they always appear The pain of unknowing is my only fear So, for now, your seas have calmed And your storm has settled down Left me cold and windswept With droplets on my brow I'll do what I must to do for now For when night time falls again I'll be back in my beautiful nightmare Where you think of me now and then
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC
Dream Catcher
playing cat and mouse you flex your retractable claws and ponder the worth of the catch of a day if, regardless, your bowl is full while I await for my fate await for the gavel to fall and the flocking birds of thought sitting on the timeline watch the crows pecking flesh of what yesterday still was a viable dream but today has become a roadkill under the steamroll of indecisiveness browning grass on damp fields knows not of next spring and the dead leaves on the ground do not remember the lust of summertime fool, fool is the one that cares and fooler yet the one who refuses to let go life will not pause to wait and snow will cover it all before long
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Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 7:24 PM UTC
playing cat and mouse. winter
In this dream I cannot even read my own decrees that have become the wrinkles of my brain in actuality because the steamroll of life is comin' to try and smooth them out but it ain't big and yellow with no flashing lights. It's not thoughtful enough to tell their labor fee. When night paints black on the moon a dig toward the tunnel below the rock and the hard place will be my way out like how leaves wave hello in the wind during fall while they try and remember the branches from which the fell. It's their last descent as the sun walks them home.
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Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
Way Out
You pressed down on my carbon body and said it is to make me into a diamond. I let you. I wanted to be the perfect, bright stone the world put on a pedestal to adore. I basked in the pressure you put on me, ignored the cracks, the powder that drifted down my hands like falling sand. I did not know how they chip away at diamonds to make them smooth and shimmering. Shrink them, only to regret it later. It hurt, but I let your steamroll compress on my carbon arms, rolling my eyes as you taught me at the rockes that slipped out of your grip. Even the ones that got away praised my endurance. They didn't see the sweat dripping down, the heat in my eyes. Or maybe they did and thought it was a price I am willing to pay. The world taught me that diamonds are the most beautiful stones, so I let you wash me of color. Helped you peel away my blue and red and yellow, leaving nothing but a hollow reflection of the world. Staying up at night, I felt the weight of you, always, pushing down at my lunges, seizing my heart. Even when I was away, I still felt your unrelenting hold, putting my head between your fingers and demanding I will not look away. You pressed and compressed but I didn't turn to diamond, I turned to dust.
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Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 4:45 PM UTC
Pressure