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Burnout May 2013
You smiled when you saw me
I had to see you, kid
Broke in
I had to see you
Maybe you had to see me, too
That hug
Oh, that hug
Right before you pushed me off
& accepted my kiss
It's a blur
My smoker's cough awakened me
Angie Acuña Nov 2013
Like trying to swim in a desert, I have been trying to forget you.
Obviously, it's not working.

When I was growing up my mother would say " It's okay not to try if you know you're fail miserably, but you can try it just for the experience."

So I did.

I spent hours reading books, familiarizing myself with characters that seemed a lot like you; impulsive, stubborn, witty, and sarcastic.
Can you see the similarity?

After deducing that books weren't the answer, I turned to the internet.
Sadly, this was a bust as well.
Every cat picture I saw reminded me of Star, the cat who ran away.
Yes, this was your cat.
I can't imagine why she would leave.

My last attempt at forgetting you was filling my head with meaningless facts.
Did you know that penguins have knees?
Yeah. You told me that.

Anyways, I decided that there was just no staying away from you.
My mind was like a private detective, subconciously tracking you down, searching for any type of clue that would lead me to you.
Don't ask me why I end up next to you everyday.
I honestly don't know.

But sometimes, I can see my train of thought leading me to you and it never crosses my mind to come to a screeching halt.

Maybe it's because I want to crash into you.
Or maybe it's because I want you to meet me halfway.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm being obvious enough.
curlygirl Feb 2016
How strange it is...

to have one man star in your dreams,
and wake up next to another...

to have already slept in those cold apathetic arms and left them outstretched,
yet they are the ones that reach out from the gossamer void...

to have been shown love and warmth and awake next to him gladly,
but still feel the chill of the night inside your mind...

how strange it is...

to have control of your life back,
yet not control of your dreams...
Eclipsing Moon Sep 2011
Astral Souls
A Chapter by Eclipsing Moon-blood red

musings on the connection and joining of the reincarnated souls each new many linked souls or spirits does one determine are in one original soul

This Chapter is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.

I select Mature because I refuse to subject younger minds to transcendental thoughts...

Astral projection is more real at this point in my life than the daily occurances in my so called normal know me is to know there is nothing normal about Me.

   Projection to Me is the natural state of existance of soul beings and the travel to assist others is done subconciously and consciously in my daily and nightly moments of tuned in

travel in the Astral level...meditation is my natural way of entering this state and complete quiet and ****** movement is not required..when My spirit tunes into a spirit requiring thought of mental healing or just discussion on that level I "tune in" to the reality of that space in time...and that spirit and merge with the spirit and experience it with them.

   Clearing the spirit of a soul is required by the joining with them ..and letting them experience Astral thru Me ...while I calm them internally in their physical form...many traumatic injuries can be treated in this taking over the pain and healing the body from inside...pain is only karma needing balancing and occurs to promote the understanding of assisted by allowing a spirit to be in the body of the teacher/friend to see what the lesson is.

Post script:

I simply did not follow that line in the process..ty for mentioning the responsibilities it brings...I'm gonna post that on the reviews as I've answered several questions along the same will notice I said it is karma and involvement in karma is responsibility...I never attempt to alter personal lessons with out consulting with the entity...pain is for karmic teaching..I do not aleviate it unless I must to remove a certain type of situation...such as a broken leg in physical life that is very painful and no pain medicine is around..the blood pressure can get way too high in certain yes..i will intervene in certain death situations if My guides is only then that WE would decide that is far from simple as Kerry commented...I sent her an explanation on that...responsibility wise it is a heavy karmic responsibility and I claim no god complex..if I dont share with enlightened beings such as YOU..then I am at fault for keeping it secret...I assure you it does not seem God like from here...kinda like deep doodoo for spirit help...I would never wish that on anyone....I am still searching...Yes always will be ,,a physical body is a trust endowment to care for...if the difficulty were my personal choice and mine alone to decide...I would resign the honor...but it is not...The laws of Dharma And Karma require Me to choose to learn ...until My time ..this over...teaching and learning is MY responsibility...clear as a singing bowl's ring...OmManiPadme Om.

Guided Meditation

On closing my eyes I see a insect takes on air around its body by trapping it in its hair then dives slowly into the depths and goes..down ...down...down..until it reaches a hidden rock cave..where it goes in and deposits its air bubble..on exiting it repeats this process and traps more air at the surface...only yo go down ..down..down..again ...time after time...repetition is my focus and it is soothing to my gives it a focus to relieve the tension...I stay until the focus ..removes My be contd.

prev chapter
Logan M Glover Feb 2013
The King stood tall

                                 mountain top
                         .....                           .....
                    ....                                   ­   ....
upon his....                                                 .....

                     ­                    many
And stood in awe of his many many beautiful things              

He s                     l           o      w  l  y   waltzed across his marble bri-----dge

                                                  ­                     l
                                                       f                         a
                                               n                                       t
(Subconciously) Seeking to i                                            e  his mind
                                               n                                       t
                                                       f                        a
                                      ­                                l        

                                                                ­       i                           s
Vivacious v                          and roaring r            v            r            
                    a  l ­           y  s                                            e     ­       
                            l   e

                                              .  high
       ­                                       .
                        ­                      .
Puffed his chest up well and.

His       al-     zi-     g.-  continued slow in pace
         w        t      n  

Until he  dnuora denrut  and beheld his castle

Stepping  b...a. . . . c  .  .  .  .  .  k  for a better look

Acc e  l  l   e       r         a             t               i              n                 g towards the led
                                                             ­                                                                 ­  g
                                                             ­                                                                 ­ e


And just before The King could see such greatness

He  stepped and had his f

Hadda touch of inspiration. Always enjoyed making words more physical.
Kerli Tulva Aug 2014
The deepest philosophy
Is your autobiography.
It is written in calligraphy
And captured in photography.

What is your ideology
Is all your psychology
Stored subconciously
Creating your biology.
Catrina Sparrow Dec 2013
i used to lay next to you while you'd sleep
and wonder how you could possibly have more secrets to keep
than you've got eyelashes
     you've got more eyelashes than there are tulips in holland
and even that was never enough to keep me from wanting more

it wasn't my excitement that would keep me from my sleep
     it was just that you snore
          that ******* snore
and in my wormy brain
it means that you were subconciously bored
          i always failed to work the whiskey on your breath into our amorphous algorythm
     no real measure for our frosted-glass-pleasure
     just bruises left to treasure
          on our hearts
          and necks
          and spirits

we got good at it
     spending every night
with so much left unsaid
that it was almost as if i could hear it
with my ear pressed to your ribs
     like post-dated reverberrations from all of our forgotten arguments
     echoing through the void of our emptied bottles
     and in the cherry-pits of our chests

it was all just a long line of tests
measured pressures
and recorded reactions
     it was an intellectual's game
     who will be the first to break?
in retrospect
     i think we took turns

and as much as it still burns my eyes
and breaks my mind
to know that there are tears left to cry
     it feels alright
i guess that's the part i always liked
          that ache left in the morning

sometimes i blame my parents
for letting me believe
that love was as simple to understand
     as the plot of a disney flick
they should have told me the truth
     that it's really just sick
     twisted delusions of our infatuated brains
and that the more we try to change it
the more it stays the same
     that the more you say its name
     the less likely it is to show its face

i'll never know if it was love
or insanity
     either way
s o m e t h i n g still remains
and all looks pretty much the same
from this side of the window pane
Am I in Love?

At night, laying sleepless,
I bemoan the treacheries of life
with my love
and appreciation....
And though,
in my dark,
and cavernous foundations;
Roar the pillars of stone,
and shake them.

by curiosity,
and interest,
I stare intently at you,
and though I cannot see,
You are there.
by my creativity,
and invisible,
by my negativity.
And through the secret game
that to many, has forbidden name
we speak.

and pride,
my greatest hatreds,
now run through me,
though the game of
Predator, and Prey.
I am the prey,
of myself,
in the black vapors
of my confusion,
you two rought me
with confusion
and woe,
My thoughts now strand
off into many divisions,
all joining together,
to reveal my fear,
of disappointing you.

The thing we connect through bings,
and so we remain in contact, it seems.
But ever, we thought beautiful
I am marred, and proved untruthful.
You do not deserve me,
but somehow
in this void-feeling heart of mine,
I sense you care.
I care.

Am i in love?

My Mind craves you,
and I put much emphasis on that,
for that, might,
just might,
be my undoing.
Should I look to the East,
to find you, riding, in
shining, and metallic armor,
And see only dust clouds
roam aimlessly from North to South.
But I hear banners, in the West,
all risen high,
as high hopes,
and high spirits,
to guide them.
This, is what I've waited for,
for years,
as do we all.
But my misinterpretations,
now lead the banners,
with silver swords,
bearing the name of hate.
with this,
I deserve only
to lay my head down,
lamely, for you to hew it
from me, and call it,

This, I forsee,
this unsensible
and crazed
that passes through me,
and guides me
to all darker paths of light.
So that I may be dimmed,
and in a cycle refrained,
I should, as a doomsayer,
say my doom,
and I, as a fool,
should subconciously make that true.

This is what I see.
I fear, for you,
and fear,
for me.

I burden all, though a child
and my will is heavy, upon you,
and wild, is my desires
and should you penetrate my curtains,
you should see,
the cold bitterness, of my truth.

But all the while,
mind and soul crave you,
and body revives,
but surely.
I sense love,
and my stomach churns,
knowing I shall hang my head
in Guilt.

Am I In Love?
Meka Boyle Jan 2011
Beneath the blues and greens
Your ripping at the seams
Yet your ocean eyes encompass dreams
Brimming full with hopeful gleams

In the blurred and hazy night
Darkness engulfs your sight
Dimming you wanning light
Insomnia grips you tight

As the ocean breeze beckons you forward
I subconciously surrender it all
I see how your eyes long toward
Abiding the ocean's call
Jeffrey Pua Oct 2014
I think what we are missing out is that love is plain receiving, after all. People are clumsy enough to give it or lose it along the way. It can be sung or tediously written. I may be wrong, but, I think the problem we have with love is with who we want to carry it. We decide what is true and noble with the way it was packaged or presented, thus we hope. And so we pour out what we have, to the extent of our flaws, for the so called authenticity called preference. Then some would chase for love as though it's an adventure. Cookie crumbs are everywhere. There is no end to people who are lost, happily. And so we spend a little more time and energy, and money, tossing all to the ocean as ill-fated bottles for our forgetting, just to bitterly fail at it. Kind of makes me wonder how this *** I know found the love of his life. How did he do that?  Is it really just about ordering the right kind of coffee at the cafe? Or lying under that one auspicious tree? Perhaps, we're just addicted, frustrating ourselves with the idea of love returning. I think people, subconciously, just wanted to build the value of what they already have. We are not contented that there is such a valuable thing on Earth as love we can effortlessly attain. We think of it as an irreproducable need, like it is buried someplace else, in the distance, that one should say it is precious, that one should say it is deserved. We tend to precede the struggle, not knowing this simple truth: The struggle is after love not when a man is after it. We refine what we have, and consequently, we define ourselves. We don't search for love, neither will it find us. It already did. And it has found us fools. Contentment is true key. Love differs from hope, and hope love, and even faith. What we love makes us stranger; love keeps us sane. We tend to conquer love; love is submissive. It remains true to itself, while we are just being...ourselves.

© 2014 J.S.P.
Willoughby Lucas Mar 2012
Subconciously dreaming
Seeing him sigh
I awake to a start
From the stain of the morning  
Throwing memories in my eyes
The death of a life
The lack of love in me
Feeling his knife
Now I'll never be more than one of his amputees.

Learning to listen
We prepare our ears
Can you hear shouting?
As they all yell
I wake to their cries
Acknowledging my own
Remembering my sadness
Do I feel tears?

Tied to our hope
We live for the alternative
Pretending to move
We stand starved and stubborn
Unwelcoming the change
Defying composure
And laying it all on the line
With the true self's exposure.

Left tortured, tempted by love
We fall for the forbidden
Massaging the pain
Living for the lies
Ignoring old warnings
Refusing to recognize
What was the demonstration of our demise.
Kimmy-Nichole Dec 2010
its like what the ****
can i plan to wreck
obviously subconciously
beneath my distracted eyes
ill make my move
ill plan it steatlthly
so quant and quiet
youll wonder how you'll ever miss me

but in the end
Youll hate the idea of ever knowning me.
Liz Delgado May 2015
It gets to a point where I have made myself so minuscule, I can't seem to fill all your empty corners and that's when you look at me just like every ordinary thing in the world and I subconciously shrink further into myself
Bluntly, I feel like I am not enough
Sarah Camacho Jun 2013
ninety-eight degrees.
one single minute of blood rushing to the heart.
calmly, you turn away
and resume your day.
i'm aware that your pulse
is more regular than mine.

you flashed a brilliant smile
and forced your thoughts upon my own.
my heart was a lovely red
and the sky was my home.

soon later, i saw the darkness you saw in others.
this darkness is quite the affliction.
it is a prescription gone horribly wrong;
costly and effective in ways i wasn't aware.

you see, it is a drug
but it is more so a shovel.
eyes shut, i create my own spot within the earth.

not six feet, not ten, not thirty
but a quaint place exculsively
for my ninety-eight degrees
and my darkness.

subconciously, i've allowed layer upon layer of earth
to compact upon me until i could not feel
one single minute of blood rushing to the heart.

ah, but your obligation has saved me.
you reminded me of how
my ninety-eight degrees, my darkness, and my blood
flows ultimately the same as everyone elses.

you must be a saint to leave me in this quaint spot,
beneath these compact layers of earth.
you set me down gingerly
and strode away with my heart.
my body is here,
but my mind is in the dark.

so thank you for allowing
these roots to wrap themselves around my back.
what an astounding notion
to paint my heart black.
for now i see the benefit in the game.
flying is overrated,
and to feel is a shame.
Axiana Jan 2015
Atmospheric chaos erupts like wild volcanoes
This bottled creativity sparked a supernatural
Storm that has echoed just like ten tornados
That leave behind a silent, colorless wake
A spiritual crystal rainbow
Of deep plateaus breaking down missing traits
Dipping gently towards the lines of my dreams
Causing me to believe in many truths unseen
So I am left with one mysterious theme
To express the need
To be all that is found inbetween
Reality, fantasy and the enticing extremes
Within the confines of wires that were weaved
In such a way that I was swayed to believe
These schemes could ever reflect back to me
That I am and was made unnaturally
To be something otherworldy
Despite these
Mysterious glass trees that deliriously reflect back to me
Disqualified memories buried so subconciously deep
Now I believe in the dream
So I let it all go
Have faith I can hold
Tightly to the fluttering lace that my own
Wispy fingers have sewn
Into this skin that is dry like the wind
My consciousness now wearing thin
So don't let it go
Let it unravel to show
I will soon be sweetened with rain
Soon you will know
This storm will not be defined or decayed
Dismayed or maintained
Let the truth come, invade
False pain that will stay
Unless I make
One night of healing, so well handmade
It will replace the decades of feeling afraid
Of being awake
Of going astray
Ijla Apr 2018
Does his thoughts still plague your mind?
Her voice was a mere whisper.
Barely audible to human ears
but echoing in the dark confines of my room.
'Not really' I replied back .
Just softly enough for her to hear.
Surely a small white lie
Wouldn't create a problem, right?
Because how can I tell her,
He is all I think about subconciously.
She, who is always there for me
Helping me move on
How can I tell her that the hours of hard work
went down the drain, in the blink of an eye.
How could I tell her that
His memories are burned into my mind.
His brown eyes,
deep enough for me to drown in.
His lopsided smirk
And his huge ego.
His warm hugs,
That always made me feel protected.
His rough hands, cupping my face
Feeling my cold skin
As he leans into kiss me
His full lips, moving over mine.
So softly and so pleasurably
That it has me spiralling
Into an eternal bliss.
So in my mind,
I apologise to her.
For being this way.
for not being able to forget
The one love, that left me
Broken like a fallen angel without wings.
I still find myself thinking about him.Not just at midnight but also during noon, when I am busy with work or just enjoying with friends.
psykhe Sep 2018
It's six in the morning
I've woken up

You were in my dreams
I should go back to sleep

Try to chase the dream back
inside my head

I don't want to think of you

I don't want to think
You'll be with me

I can't hold onto a dream

The sun is slowly rising
let me sleep

// dream of you
one last time
green therapy Oct 2015
ive told you things nobody knows
things not even my pen has exposed
its because i have a trust in you
captured my heart and away you flew

the more u knew brought us closer together
created a bond that never would sever
the deepest secrets of my heart
subconciously tore us apart

now my thoughts back to my paper and pen
learning my lesson to not open up again
getting close only brings more pain
another dream, another slaying
Stevie Ray Jun 2017
Stuck in your own circles of confirmation
Facebook-algorithms inspired from
your circled ignorance
Peel off all your words
and all that's left
is a question in regards of your own acknowledgement
seeking affirmation of your own existence
a deep desire for your true self to be seen by others
yet you keep on hiding it
subliminally and subconciously showing it
in your own incongruent behavior
over and over and over and over

do you have any idea
how ******* annoying it is
to hear someone being stuck on repeat?

go look at yourself in the ******* mirror.
cuz I'm done repeating myself.
Seek your own answers.
Brianna Heins Jun 2012
Poetry Chose You Over Me

You can’t write poetry with a numb tongue.
You can’t write poetry without a shadow,
of sorrow sleekly strewn across the upper left corner of your heart.

My eyes are doors, while others have doorways.
I can’t quite shake the shaky feeling of emptiness.
Settling faster then the sediment, swept across chlorophyll stippled river beds
by smirk studded salmon.

Im trying to write poetry, but numb is the tongue.
While empty flavor lingers and mingles with a loss of love and pain,
they told me the pain would pass; I would be left with forgetfulness.
In that there is truth, but spotlights shine across the tightly sewn hole;
between my skin and my rib cage,
I’m tempted to scrape, gut, and liquidate,
the empty space, a place
built for pain, built for jubilation.
Never for all consuming emptiness.

You can’t write poetry with a numb tongue.

The faces of peers subconciously come,
into a sleeping but wakeful head.
They wish to scream, to receive permission,
from the social norms to stop,
and breathe.
Inhale einstein,
exhale ******.

They fly beneath the wings of the average,
as not to be seen.
Breaking down has always been easier for the naive.

In one palm I hold green tea,
In one palm I hold a numb tongue.
In swallows I hold the possibility of being free.

Here I lay in a small blanket of colors.
Something so close,
something so distant.
But I know there is wrong,
when the inches of old fabric and layered looped pajama pants
don’t touch, wont touch
the wiggly white winter legs.
Two solid blocks of ice,
forgetting to melt for the pelting sweltering shower drops.
That have all but washed me.

Their consulting, conniving with the tongue so numb.
Ends to abruptly?

— The End —