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mikarae Dec 2018
noun.

hot-rod red, boiling—veins snake, denim—skin throbs.

my eyelids are pounding.

dozens of sparrows, pushing at pale canvas.

thunder gasps at the
caverns
of my lungs.

lightning
at the fuse.

noun.

an Edgar warning;
thumping at wooden chest,
racing.  

it just echos.

i am not your dictionary.

i am not your dictionary.

reverberate.
reverberate.
reverberate.

hollowly, it
hymns.

muffled by fire-truck cloth
and sun-starved cotton.

noun.

blue trees dance to the
rhythm,
singing up at skylight eyes.

reverberate.

breathe.

reverberate.

repeat.

noun.
(n) the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.
Carlos Reyes Dec 2014
The reflection of the mirror
is not what i see
It lacks depth and dimension
You cant see what i see.
i dont need to reach into the mirror to touch what i see.
I can simply touch what i see.
Dont be displeased by what you see
know that i love you dispite what you see.
Because what i see. Is much more than just a reflection of what you see.
Penelopejayde Oct 2018
Eat
i become
very aware
of my chewing
when there
is somebody
**** in the
room.
Aware of that someone is a stray but let me finish my lunch
Anya Oct 2018
It was a sad thing
To realize
How limited my topics
Of poetry are

Either some embodyment
Or my overflowing
Emotions

Or a strange
Out of the box
Analogy to something I
Learn in school

Or,
Simply a reflection
On the people
Around me
Something I’ve
Observed
In my sheltered
Surroundings

Perhaps
One of the above
Coupled with
Some fantastical
Figment
Of my imagination

But apart from that...

Politics, issues, society
Beyond that which I have
Been exposed to
Plenty,
There’s absolutely
Plenty to write about

Rather than
Simply,
Focusing on my
Own
Centered
Little bubble
Gale L Mccoy Sep 2018
i am aware
-the decisions i make
-the things i consider
-the time i spend
i am aware of it all
-of the consequences
-of the change
-of the things it'll bring

and i still
walk the line
avoiding the worst
through dumb luck
or just a really
tired guardian spirit

or perhaps others just know
not to let me drag myself
down there with them

i don't think
even for how much
i try to be stupid
that i'm anything less than
relieved
when it just doesn't work out
Trevor Hageman Sep 2018
I feel so ******* depraved.
I'm out of touch, with myself.
I don't know what drives me anymore,
perhaps it's the most basic goal to live my life
and find my way to my grave.
To rest easy within the Dirt.
I am convince that there is no higher power
that could create such a living Hell,
nothing to save you.
I feel like a histrionic madman.
The insomnia, the drinking, the abuse
is all bad for this physical frame,
but it fuels the creative engine.
It provides a push to keep the drive going.
Is this enough to call myself self aware?
Is it possible to be my own judge, jury, and executioner?
The Calm Sep 2018
aware of my depravity
pressed down by the gravity
kept down by the havoc it spills actually
it's sweet like a cavity
it'll confront you callously,
it'll tactically relieve you of your faculties

aware of my depravity
seeing how it got to me, seeing how it held hold of me
No plan of letting go of me, feeding me feelings of apathy
my demons parade me, pageantry , steal from me, give me fantasy
somebody send the cavalry, somebody take this pain from me
somebody save myself from me, give me back my captaincy.
AntiFemale Sep 2018
My body was once a
TEMPLE.
Semantic memories fade like
MISCONSTRUCTED.
sentences
Too many commas
Too many expressions
PAUSED.
Yet they go on and on

Full stops where
EMPTY.
promises should have been
Upper case convictions for lower case hearts
Filling gaps and leaving no space to breathe
CONFINED.
by suffocating vocabularies
UNFORGIVABLE.
utterances lingering on.

My body was once a temple .
My body was once bold .
Learning to realize the impurities that pierce the temple that I supposedly embody. It’s insane how significant a role the coexistence of good and bad play in painting the beauty of life .
M Solav Sep 2018
The world is filled with cracks through which I can escape;
Your word have carried me upon one more of those trails.
The land is dry to us, I fail to see to what avail
We walk apart parallel to the truth that keeps us here.

The distant line, horizon, that now draws across the sea...
My eyes have reached out my body in the hope that it could flee.
Whenever I have tried, when I wanted to get there,
A cloud had formed in my mind, no longer was I aware:

Between tangible reality
And a vanishing dream,
The path of least resistance
Still leads me up the hill.

Now a witness of my own being in change,
I no longer mould to all the forms;
I, this dreary cage.

The world is painted black and white, a moon in the lake;
Your word have brought me where I watch the mirror pearl.
The waters are appeased tonight, I can see it all too clear:
We walk apart parallel to the truth that keeps us here.

The distant line, horizon, an illusion of infinity...
My eyes have followed its line only hoping that they could see
Some form of higher reason that lie in stable shapes,
But the staring threw me off and no longer was I aware:

Between tangible reality
And a vanishing dream,
The path of least resistance
Still leads me up the hill.

Between tangible reality
And a vanishing dream,
The path of least resistance
Still leads me up the hill.

No longer a witness of my own being in change,
Moulding anew to all the forms,
I, this merry cage.
Written in July 2016.


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