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Lika Mizukoshi Nov 2015
Dear Soulmate
I'm pretty sure we've crossed paths before, just unassured of the spot
But I know you've already forgotten
How I look or how my name sounds like
Just another wallflower within your area of sight

Dear Soulmate
It's pretty weird for me to have you here as well
A bit restless, I don't know if you can tell
After being spun around the other way
By you who caught me in his arms and let me stay

Dear Soulmate
It almost feels like I have a debt to pay
Only to be fixed by paying attention to you
One burden I don't find myself to be in dismay
For I know that somehow, you carry the same load too

Dear Soulmate,
I am not in love with you, let's make that clear
I have learned not to after all these years
From many a chance encounter broken by this mere
Emotional "commitment" shrouded in unvoiced fear

See, I can not be caught in the teeth of romance
For it has bitten me once, let's not give it another chance
to ruin something good, I know you'd understand
So let me keep my distance now, before it catches me with its glance

Dear Soulmate,
I hope you feel the same
As I write to you, it may sound insane
Let me explain, before things turn twisted
Why I can't let you be one of them in the end

The problem is when my soul finds a mate, it ***** it dry
leaving it dependent for it to thrive
I see yours basking in freedom, a wonderful light
So I won't say goodbye, but rather, goodnight.
I'm unassured with the words I think,
slipping, skipping days, I sink.
I lost my mind in my head's black,
and died in the depth trying to get it back.
Maybe I'm a resented presence;
pressed upon malnourished intentions.
I can't find the point anymore;
I can't brim the dark anymore,
and if I submerge below my purpose,
what am I even fighting for?
--------------------------------------
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
tread Sep 2012
The salted air elates a feeling of real real.
And by real real, I mean the realist real there is. 

Child like intuition and loss in present ecstasy
Underlying a layered and angsted mind.

I loved a psychopath as a best friend
But finally 
His confusion clawed at my chakras with convoluted and displaced passion 
But on Protection Island 
I feel
Protected.

Whether the next sunrise meets me through the dingy drapes of a budget hostel, awash in a strange and urban melancholy wrapped warmly on all sides
Or on a windy beach with the blue flow of sparkled wash and distant cloud capped peaks and Dover-beacon ferries which remind me of novelty globes and my father
The buzz of early morning travel as a child

I will be fine.

To lighten my load I hid The Dhamapada and St. Francis of Assisi in the hopes and faith that they would be left in peace blanketed in underbrush 
Being peacefully caressed by ocean wind and the beautifully dilapidated wood-house 
The protectors warm grin of welcome.

I want to feel okay again
And I feel like okay is finally waking up from her peaceful slumber 
Returning from vacation to remind and comfort my unassured and pummeled mind
Like a lover returning from a followed dream

A long, warm embrace which says it all
No words for I love you
Just a feeling and oneness as old as the world itself.
Amanda Blomquist May 2013
The basement of my mind.

   Cluttered with **** storms and broken promises,
          Withered alongside reminiscent daydreams of passed past nightmares.

I stare...
   Into the internal dwellings of my deepest catacomb.

          Unable to process what resides in my literal unconscious dungeon.
   It's everything i've attempted to hide.

To die.
   To let dwindle between cobwebs and dust bunnies.

My breath falls short.

   Sifting through the residue of forgotten treasures and material shackles.
          They bond me.
Surround me.
   Overwhelm me...
          The unresolved burdens have taken residency within my hindered chakras.

My chest  is heavy.
   The weight distribution of disappointment is sharper than expected.

It eats away at me.
   An elusive daily ritual.

Tucked away it remains far from common thought patterns.

Waves of emotion.
   The tides roll in.
          Upon their migration my muddled secrets and hidden betrayals are uncovered.
               Discovered.

The look in your eyes when they fall upon my frailty.

My internal stack of unfiltered, unregistered, and unassured disheveled boxes.
   Full of disheveled useless things.
          Covered in a thick layer of problems i'm incapable of handling alone.

Alone.
   It sits unaltered and ever growing.

The piles.
    The filth.
          The remnants of what should have been happiness.

It all falls into misplaced sediments.

I'm a mess.
It's showing.
I'm naked.

    This hell.
This murky chamber of unwanted mementos from failed attempts and lost friendships
          This dreadful, endless room.

Oh, to live in a home without a storm shelter.
    Without room to store unnecessary baggage and all the unclaimed items in my mind.

To find solace in meager living.
   All this weight fitting into a backpack.

To minimize my insanity into a carry on.

   To leave.
To go.
    To be light enough to feel the light.

To escape this cellar.
     To live.

To release my self from my own idealogical prison.
    To penetrate the bars of fear.
          To dig myself out from all the things I never want to speak of.

To be free.
     Ahhh, to be free.

To breathe fresh air over molded dust clouds and stale particles.
     To touch without needing to rinse my soul clean.

To re-stack, rotate, and Tetris these piles of insecurities.

To break habits
           that i've reinterpreted from childhood addictions and failed father figures.

To be better than what i've become.

To set fire to this sham of a lifestyle.
     To be reborn in the ashes of this outgrown armor.

To let go.

To make you proud.
     To find pride in myself.

To not be embarrassed by my place settings and mismatched knick knacks.

To allow souls into my temple without them stumbling into my isolated lunacy.

To welcome love.
        To love.
    To love even the darkest crevasses of my being...

I need to renew my license to live.
     Overdue and out of line,
           My past self has expired.

One step at a time, breathe.
    One box at a time, breathe.
       One thought at a time, inhale.
    One lust at a time, exhale.

Inhale.
    Exhale.
Breathe.
        Repeat.

Awaken.
      Accept.
  Grow.
          Repeat.
Clearing space externally to open space internally.
Amanda Blomquist Nov 2016
The basement of my mind.

   Cluttered with **** storms and broken promises,
          Withered alongside reminiscent daydreams of passed past nightmares.

I stare...
   Into the internal dwellings of my deepest catacomb.

          Unable to process what resides in my literal unconscious dungeon.
   It's everything I've attempted to hide.

To die.
   To let dwindle between cobwebs and dust bunnies.

   Sifting through the residue of forgotten treasures and material shackles.
          They bond me.
Surround me.
   Overwhelm me...
          The unresolved burdens have taken residency within my hindered chakras.

My chest is heavy.
   The weight distribution of disappointment is sharper than expected.

It eats away at me.
   An elusive daily ritual.

Waves of emotion.
   The tides roll in.
          Upon their migration my muddled secrets and hidden betrayals are uncovered.
               Discovered.

My internal stack of unfiltered, unregistered, and unassured disheveled boxes.
   Full of disheveled useless things.
          Covered in a thick layer of problems i'm incapable of handling alone.

Alone.
   It sits unaltered and ever growing.

The piles.
    The filth.
          The remnants of what should have been happiness.

It all falls into misplaced sediments.

I'm a mess.
It's showing.
I'm naked.

    This hell.
This murky chamber of unwanted mementos from failed attempts and lost friendships
          This dreadful, endless room.

Oh, to live in a home without a storm shelter.
    Without room to store unnecessary baggage and all the unclaimed items in my mind.

To find solace in meager living.
   All this weight fitting into a backpack.

To minimize my insanity into a carry on.

   To leave.
To go.
    To be light enough to feel the light.

To escape this cellar.
     To live.

To release my self from my own ideological prison.
    To penetrate the bars of fear.
          To dig myself out from all the things I never want to speak of.

To be free.
     Ahhh, to be free.

To breathe fresh air over molded dust clouds and stale particles.
     To touch without needing to rinse my soul clean.

To re-stack, rotate, and Tetris these piles of insecurities.

To break habits
           that I've reinterpreted from childhood addictions and failed father figures.

To be better than what I've become.

To set fire to this sham of a lifestyle.
     To be reborn in the ashes of this outgrown armor.

To let go.

     To find pride in myself.

To not be embarrassed by my place settings and mismatched knick knacks.

To allow souls into my temple without them stumbling into my isolated lunacy.

To welcome love.
        To love.
    To love even the darkest crevasses of my being...

I need to renew my license to live.
     Overdue and out of line,
           My past self has expired.

One step at a time, inhale.
    One box at a time, exhale.
       One thought at a time, breathe.

Inhale.
    Exhale.
Breathe.
        Repeat.

Awaken.
 ­     Accept.
  Grow.
          Repeat.
Pierce not my skin,
Thou lancet of horror,
Which is terribly akin
To the blade of terror;

Touch nay me at all,
You dark being;
Mind, be not on call
At the bay of loony bin;

Mortality's debt is
Paid by death's acquisiton--
It's the end of business,
The final liquidation;

The assets of sanctity
Offset and save as well
Many a toxic liability
Of the soul from hell;

Weak, weary and bored
By unbroken quietus fear.
Life is unassured
By a doctor's gear.
Amanda Blomquist Jul 2013
Here.
    In the silent moments of the desolate night.
I recoil into endless thought.

   Tortuously searching my mind.
              Distorting facts, fictions, and energetic nonsense.
                          Trying to understand the synchronized patterns and unassured laughter.

     My eyes plead for rest.
             They beg through ****** veins and blurred vision.
         There's no mercy when you fight with Luna.
  She controls the tides and bends the mind.

My analytical ramblings feed the minimal energy needed to stay present.
          I remain in a state of depth.
    My only hope for riddled dreams is my natural eventuality.

         A fascinating duality of cognitive dissonance.
  A mind much stronger than the body it's been placed in.
Jared Eli Aug 2013
The Vague Hope is the substance that gets me through the day
That unassured thing that tells me, "Don't worry; it's okay"
It never tells me how the things that seem bad will be alright
So I cannot quite refute it, and with me it spends the night
It nestles in my heart and head, and I like child, hold it close
It's always perfectly designed to be a saving dose
It fills my heart, much like the feel of Love, both pure and true
But Vague Hope's non-transferable, so I can't give mine to you
All I can say is that you must request it from the world
And from the blackened heavens an answer might be hurled
Like a spear thrown from the hands of Romans into boars
Vague Hope may be presented to be kept; forever yours
Ryan Galloway Jun 2015
There is within me a fire
I feel it burning from the ends
Of my calloused fingertips
As if it is exceeding my soul
When I recede, it grows
At my end, it echoes
Into the vast unknown
Though unassured I am
In the faith of my hand
I can rest in the known promise of that flame
It warms my soul
As it does all who hold
The communion of its glow
Bringing all people into one
Unified within the Holy Ghost
Qualyxian Quest May 2019
Albert Camus against the Absurd
  We can too with wisdom words
     A rebel who lives unassured

             Join the Resistance!
             Trumpism interred
Andrew Crawford Dec 2016
One thousand birds emerge-
unheard words purged
from fractured sidewalk to curb, stirred;
unkindness of ravens or crows murdered-
undeserved verbs, do footsteps further?
In daydreams, dawn's delusions offered-
though pavement portions promises, pressured.
In sandstone sections, divisions patterned-
loud nerves unassured, still soil's upturn preferred.
Gaps passed, no glance back, feathers furiously flap-
beaks biting, talons lashing tracks.
Dazed in morning maze or midnight's hapless lapse;
confusion, clouded, clothes to combat dusk's cold contrast...
numb, nothing felt from stitches, suture, cut, or ****.
Lupus- Dec 2019
Why am I being compared?
Am I that broken and need to be repaired?
To you do I mean nothing?
Am I even good at anything?
I’m no good
Leaving me unassured
Nothing is right
The truth is so bright
I know everything’s wrong
At night I search for the warmth of a song
I know I’m not worth it
Perfection does not fit
But don’t you see
You’re bringing me pain and misery
Comparing me makes me feel less
It makes me feel like a mess
From the inside I’m dying
About my happiness I’m lying
My heart is breaking apart
Your comparisons are at fault
Comparing me and I’m sinking into depression
Because of your inconsiderate action
All your words attack
And hurt more than a smack
Comparing me and myself I hate
Giving myself no respect, it’s too late
Comparing me and I’m no longer your friend
Bringing me to the end
I'm feeling confused,
Not knowing if denial is the right word for liver failure.
You always were so sick
It's like it never occurred to me you could die.
And I'm still laughing and sarcastically acting
Like this is what Ive waited for.
I've been telling people you were dead for 3 years
Because my relationship with my mother
Was to hard to think about.
It was easier for me to pretend you were dead.
But now I find myself edging tears neurotically repeating my chosen mantra for the week

She won't die, she couldn't die... right?

I don't know how many times I've thought that confronting the harsh truth of the life you chose to live.
You've always been so sick
So sick and mean.
And Ive waded through every last memory I had of you
Every day since you let me know
How many days has it been
4.
And none of them gave me the closure I was hoping for.
I found myself insecure and unassured of your love all over again
I found myself feeling rejected by your personality.
I found myself still so desperate for the relationship we could have had.
Had you controlled your anger
Controlled your resentments
Controlled your drugs habits
Your out rageously childish rebellion
But instead I see you as some one who was always mean to me .
Who I just so happen to be madly inlove with and all I wanted to dO was mean something to you
I wanted you to like me
I wanted you to love me
I wanted to just make you happy
So you could love me but it didn't happen.
And you've destroyed your body by 43.
Your livers failing now
Because you didn't get your hep c treated
And I know I shouldn't want to save you it would be a waste, make myself weak so you can abuse another part of me all over again
But I wonder what the chances of us being a match is
And I wonder if being your daughter would make the lupus less of an issue in transplant, and i wonder if maybe you would finally understand the type of loyalty and love I've had for you
Uncomfortable
Dr Peter Lim Sep 2017
TIME-STRADDLERS

We are straddlers riding
on the back of time
clinging precariously to its sides
between the now and future
unassured of any final outcome-

lost in moments of loving and hating
laughing and weeping
hoping and despairing
dreaming and waking-
winning and losing

what's that we can count as our own
at the end when all that we would but inherit
is old age and its decaying hours?
the youthful field would have lost its glory
and nothing is left of all the summer-flowers--

my pen would have been dry
my words, feeble and faint
no valiant song would spring forth
from my mouth, nothing radiant
would come my way but the day's long sigh

in the horizon mist hangs heavily
dust seems to cover my weary eyes
my voice has lost all its vibrancy
nights come too soon and darker are their shades
the world is no longer mine and my lonely tears I hide.
Justine Jade Jul 12
I'm assured by your
wanting.
yearning.
needing.

then the next day i cry
because you were
leaving.
fading.
disappearing.
Chloe Habig May 2019
As I stare into the mirror
Her face scrunched up
Is she disgusted
Sad
Does she know that I am
Waiting for happiness too
Does she know that I am
Trying to hide as well
I try to relate as I am
Reaching forward to comfort her
My hand
Meeting glass
My eyes
Grey
As I stare into
the mirror
A girl of greatness
Who knows herself so
It is a common occurrence
Utterly unassured of her status
Is the first to fall from her pedestal
And the last to admit her fault
For she knows herself not
A girl of weakness

-read bottom to top-
Dr Peter Lim Nov 2018
TIME-STRADDLERS

We are straddlers riding
on the back of time
clinging precariously to its sides
between the now and future
unassured of any final outcome-

lost in moments of loving and hating
laughing and weeping
hoping and despairing
dreaming and waking-
winning and losing

what's that we can count as our own
at the end when all that we would but inherit
is old age and its decaying hours?
the youthful field would have lost its glory
and nothing is left of all the summer-flowers--

my pen would have been dry
my words, feeble and faint
no valiant song would spring forth
from my mouth, nothing radiant
would come my way but the day's long sigh

in the horizon mist hangs heavily
dust seems to cover my weary eyes
my voice has lost all its vibrancy
nights come too soon and darker are their shades
the world is no longer mine and my lonely tears I hide.

— The End —