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11:18 P.M.

Want to sleep, don't want to.
Waiting for something.
An idea, an event.
Something to do.
Write on the walls.
Or the mirror or a shirt.
Draw something,
write something.
Go for a walk.
Sing a song.
Whole house is asleep.
Write a song,
don't have a piano.
And the whole house is asleep.
Clean my room?
That can wait.
Read something?

11:31 P.M.

Mom, you gave me this flip calendar
with mother/daughter quotes
for each day.
Those words you said to me,
"Mom and daughter are not
to be friends," Mom
that hurts.
So I imagine you made
a 11:35 P.M. those
sticky notes over there
catch my eye.
What should I do with these?
I'll test one, see if they'll
stick.

I have many hideous scarves.
What is to be done with those
shoe boxes?

WHY didn't I start looking for
a job EARLIER???

12:04 A.M.

The stickies just fell and
made me jump.
I'll tape paper to the wall
instead.

12:13 A.M.

Maybe I won't sleep tonight.
I'll do my summer reading
like it's day, until I drop.
copyright Victoria Balsamo, July 14, 2010 -- the night I finished reading Pride and Prejudice
J'Hahn Johnson Sep 2013
Now I made alot wrong turns before I became this man today,
Drove through alot of towns where my life was just a sway,

Cause I tipped bottles and smoked **** to try to hide the pain,
I thought it was normal cause I saw y'all do the same,

I hated the feeling of seeing my brother in tears,
So in the attempts to make it vanish I cracked open another beer,

But when the beer seized to work I cracked open a bottle,
With my left foot on the pedal shifting gears to full throttle,

I hated feeling the pain of everyone crying,
So I crushed up some pills and used my card for a lining,

And if the pain still proceeds I'll spark up some Ls,
not understanding why my problem still swells,

" I don't have a problem, I only use on the weekends." ,
Little did I know this rode only steepens,

Schools getting boring, so park in the back
" Yo **** first period, let's finish the sack",

"Bro I'm way too high, you mind if I sleep it,
We'll keep this skip day just our little secret,"


The teachers catch on to me skipping all week,
So I drop out of school to run with the street,

The amount of my daily use, I can't seem to keep track,
Mabye this left turn will take me on back,

Now the coolest ****** in town so I guess it's alright,
Who cares if my bed it a park for the night,

Two showers a week so my shoes might have stunk,
But my bottles 100 and the **** smells like skunk,

My visions always blurry and I "might" have a temper,
We had fun last nigh. Right.... That's all I remember,

But hey, you only live once so why not party all night,
As I drive through the dark in a car with broke lights,

My girlfriend can't stand it, " well who needs one girl"
There's a million other "*******" that live in he world,

So many black outs I can't keep count,
My moms ******* crazy for kicking me out,

Money got low so I smoked some fake ****,
Till my my boy tries to **** me so I leave him to bleed,

So while I take out my stitches we'll party till death,
Or till I wake up in the morning with stickies on my chest
And IVs in my arm and a tube around my nose connected to different bags and machines while a female officer waits outside my door


For as I flew down the highway as fast as I can in the attampt to escape the guilt of my life,
I didn't not see the upcoming ice,

And as the car slides, clips the railing, and flips Into a crash,
I did not believe  I would make it out of the ash,



But I did


And with this miracle given to me by a power greater than myself I made it a promise........

I won't abuse it
Please criticize me anything that will make me a better write will be greatly  appreciated
ljr May 2023
splayed limbs and warm sun and sneakers laid to the side and sun on my body and the sound of the water more than anything else

A midday shower to get the stickies off, maybe its all worth it

If I get to spend even a second in the wind, drinking in its cool caress, how could I remember to yearn for the warm sticky touch of another?

If I get to hear the rushing of the water so close to my ears, what phantom chatter of ghosts could permeate?

If I get to feel the sun kiss my skin the way it does, what significance could the absence of you hold?

When I have so much, how could my heart remember to need you?
When I have so much, how could my heart not want to share it with you?

You who I know would love it. You who I wish loved me half as much.

When I have so much, why does missing you take up any room for gratitude in this cluttered mind? I started off alright this time.

This is not a rhyming poem.

****** poetry, maybe 5 is my lucky number. But 5 is a lie I tell to and for myself. I seem to have been briefer to you than that.

The difference is that I say 5, and you do not say.
So small
A concept few understand

The pink ones
Tucked away safely
Protected from view
Show times I was at the end

A small final act
For the life to end

However there is another
Shown out in a collection
Different shapes
All the same size

These are white
With writting in black
Company stickies there called
Yet busy work for me

Fold and press
Shape and pull
Small cranes take flight
Creating a flock on the desk

The meaning changed
From once sarrow and a tearful goodbye
To a ray of hope
Making me stay busy when work is down

Funny how suicide cranes
Became cranes of life
I lost my thought somewhere,
Over there,
Behind my leftover thinkings on time.

To the right of whenever,
I last forgot to remember,
What is was with I wanted to rhyme.

I try to remind myself,
Quite often,
To post stickies to help me recall.

But then the thought to look,
Gets lost in some nook,
And, the whole deal slows down to a crawl.
© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
Anais Vionet Aug 1
Being back home, in my childhood room is like climbing into a time capsule. I left for college quickly, back in ‘21 and I’ve only been back here once, briefly.

My closets are still full of my old high school clothes and there are shelves that line the upper walls of my room with maybe a hundred “Disney Princess” collectable statues (my favorite is Ariel).

I have one wall space behind my bathroom door that has a hundred yellow stickies on it - reminders of old assignments and quotes like, “Do you hate drama or create drama?” and “Imagine your future.”

Everything seems carbon dated. It gives me an impeccable, knife-like sense of ennui. I want to cherish it all or burn it all, depending on the time of day. I went to take down my old Humphry Bogart and Billie Eilish posters yesterday and Kim said “Noo,” in such a sad way that I stopped.

Hold on, let’s overthink this.

I had a hard conversation today. I broke the news to my cats (Belichick and Tom Brady) that school starts at the end of the month, and I have to go back.

They took it well, I think. You know how cats are. I’ll know in a day or two, if their good will has turned to sour offense - they'll claw something up.

Belichick seems to be watching me extra closely though.
.
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Songs for this:
Lava by Still Woozy
Can't Hardly Wait by The Replacements
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08.01.3PM
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 07.31: Impeccable: means flawless
Safana Sep 2021
The dot on my tongue
The bend of my teeth
The stickies to my lips
They, all means equal

The stir, to my eyes
The blink of eyelids
The stretch eyebrow
They, all means same

The dark on my cheek
The blockage to my ear
The blockade nostrils
They, all means just

The alphabets I constructed
The words I built
The phrase I unfolded
All, I mean it...
Shysta Oct 4
to you,

I’d like to believe -
that meeting you was fate,
that it wasn’t just a deranged connection, neither will it ever be a coincidence of sorts.
to me you’re unlike any other.*

Knowing you, was being home.
A place to rest my mind against yours,
A place to be surrounded by the breeze of your thoughts and wisdom.
Where every story you told me was like an age old letter kept in the crevice of the walls,
untouched,
perfectly enveloped;
How is it that amidst a sea of wandering minds, you find a mind that wants to wander yours?

You made me realise that love is easy, that it’s not rocket science and that it isn’t complicated,
That we tie ourselves up in difficult knots
and that love is simply, as easy as it sounds.
To me, you’re familiar -
a past life, a divine intervention or probably a second self as you call it.

You make me want to read you and learn you and annotate you,
with my silly stickies and neon pens, and
fill you up with all my flowers hidden away in dusty old books.

Somedays, your sweet words ask me to write you a poem,
about the whirlwind my life is right now,
and I want to tell you about it;
about how on days when I’m walking the streets of this unfamiliar city
and I look back -  
I don’t see the traces of my footprints.
When I come back home
exhausted from the weight that my shoulders could ever uphold -
I find no feather of tranquility to tickle me out of weariness.
When my unhinged, running at 3000 thoughts per second brain
seeks frantically, a resting ground -
It is only ever stomped on with battering noises and formalities.

But how do I tell you, that I can endure a lifetime of lonesome dreary days like these -
If it means that every night, without fail
the warmth of your pacific voice would caress my soul,
That the only thing worth thinking about
is the idea of your presence around me;
even in spirit.
That on some level, I’ve imagined a world that exists in my head entirely built by you -
The expanse of the deserts,
poetry for streets,
walking on water,
monuments for homes,
and you.
but how do I tell you?

Sometimes I feel stuck between the layers of the sky,
A void, nothingness.
The clouds below, the space above.
It’s like I’m floating in mid air, and at times I like it that way,
But I know that eventually I need my ground to steady me;
To let gravity pull me down with all its might, as it should -
But when I put my weight on the earth
Where do I go? and to whom?

I find myself in an endless loop of uncertainties.
Almost as if I’m stranded on a desert of yearning and longing;
and your embodiment is simply a mirage,
falling in and out of the abstraction of us.

In my infinite monolithic dreams -
I see you standing at the far end of the sea
where the sky meets the land and forgets to leave,
and I am like a light stretched out, dispersed in the breeze;
I can almost touch you, but you could barely feel.

At times I read in-between the lines;
I find urgencies in your words as if you’re reaching out,
and maybe you are, but how can I know for sure?
So I sit still, with your mind and my heart -
I sit still and let your words consume me endlessly.

I’m torn between fragments of momentary bliss,
my nights end with the mornings,
and you fulfil my empty heart.
This imprisoned joy, this strange sense of belonging, this purpose of being.
Everything, everything.
These moments of shifted colours;
How long until it’s taken away from me?

On nights unguided by the moon
my thoughts fail me, constantly.
at every bleak attempt made to unlearn you,
there’s a reflection of you on the ripples of the sea.
at every bleak attempt made to unlearn you,
a melancholic ballad takes flight from my heart,
at every page of every book,
in between the lines of Hemingway,
at a peaceful walk
on a silent night
at every step of every way,
Unknowingly, unexpectedly, somehow, through some way
your light follows me, everywhere.

I think holding on to hope, helps.
& I think if I hold on to it like the way that I do -
you won’t be so far away from me;
that your spirit will finally take shape,
that it’ll finally have eyes to hold my gaze,
that it’ll finally have strength bigger than
mine to carry my being.

But if ever, our worlds cease to collide -
If ever your voice blurs into oblivion.

Know,

That your subconscious is eternally linked to mine,
That wherever you go, and whatever you see -
I will walk parallel to you,
even if we’re distanced through space and time;
All my of reality will merely exist in theory, and I’ll accept my grief for gratitude.
I’ll hold your eyes close to my heart, and see whatever you see;
Even in another world,
I’ll only walk parallel to you.

There will always always be a little bit of you in everything I’ll ever love.

All the happiest part of my heart will only ever be yours.
Only your name, and your memories, your words against everything else I’ve ever known.

— The End —