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MsAmendable Aug 2023
It rained today,
The first rain in forever.
It smelled nice;
A great wet sigh of relief

I didn't miss it until today-
When the raw thunder rolled over my back
And down my pinkened cheeks
When the crisp grass softened
And mists poured thickly through the rippling trees
That pulls over the sky like white sheets
Tucking us in to the earth; soft and small and damp and sweet

But maybe tonight, the pattering tap
Will pull me so softly
To sleep
ab ja na Apr 15
but i know not of this world
i have to pay to ******* myself?

where are my butterflies?
i want to tell them i am sorry,
have i been too loud, too dark?

i want to be the strings you pluck to feel things you feel
i am okay being locked in the cupboard or the corner room as well,
just keep me
even when i can’t give you those percussive pleasures
i'd have faith in you that there is more that could pour out of you for me
and when you pour endlessly i'd stay


so while being smothered i also wanted them to ride me,
unhinged, ride my face,
so unrestrained willing to use me and not hold back
they could not be any more real than then
so unrestrained, perched on my shoulders
the ******* blooming into flowers
the throbbing pearl inside of their lips i could hear and feel
the 3rd part of my confessional, personal poetry. it took a lot to say it this unconditioned but now i am freeing it as well

ego death does promise an ego afterlife, go for it
As I take a stroll every evening
There in those woods so green
I watch come to me from afar
A yellow tram with a red scar

The tram comes from a future
I conceived in the past
A world with a ****** culture
I once designed to last

Now as I board the tram
I journey to my end
For my future is a sham
My death’s a trend

But the tram changed course
And travels back in time
For my past’s the true source
Of each and every crime

The tram moves fast
And the woods go brown
As I reached my past
I got down with a frown

It took me some time
I righted my past
I cremated my crime
Returned at last

As I strolled the after evening
Within my mind ever so green
I perceived a thought afar
Yellow, but without a scar.
Erwinism Nov 2024
Scream! Scream! Scream! The cardinal rule of silence. Scream! The next cardinal rule of silence.

On words aching for a voice, a generous gaze be fixed. Lend a ray of light and shine on shadowed corners where thoughts have cowered. Forsake me not in unsacred matrimony of stagnation and decay, lest, I be not I. For voice not be voice which breaks when it disguise unmasks. Such is life.

Into the fabled lands of golden chance, my car rode my soul, glittered rot and creaking joints, not I, but my ferry for this diaspora unbidden, for one, but one quest—****** tomorrow from its tree and fill the pockets of whose vines to the roots with whom I share.

For it gives them so much pleasure, to measure worth with what gift is on a hand, failing to see its callused back. Faces neither painted with hardened sweat and spit, nor eyes crafted with sight. Their comfort a measuring stick of whatever weaves the blood. It thickens with the sun and diluted in the cold, worse still, vapid in trying times.

Pictures are nothing like my reality, for no hope feel I, no shores see I in this sea indifferent to drifters, no reasons have I to follow behind the whims of my feet. In solitude, in its warmth, I bathe, than nestle in the wintry arms of feigned togetherness. Such a dear friend loneliness is, when it holds out its hand and speak with profane eloquence.

Until you set your fear free, then walk away you cannot. Until you walk away, then find who you are you cannot. Until you find who you are, then grasp freedom you cannot.
So note to self—be not afraid. So with all mustered fire; let go. Let go. Let go of fear.  Be done with people who see you as Wells Fargo. Let go. Let go. Let go of thankless gratitude.
My compassion will not bend their will anymore than they can bend their own, for theirs is absolute.

Today, I’m an outcast cast away to distant shores by my need and my compassion for my blood so now I must reflect on how much of myself remains. I’ve grown arcane. How much of myself I have given to the twilight and what of me remains.

Yet, I’m torn between love that I’m nothing without and love no more and live.
louella Jul 2024
every morning, it’s the same monotonous routine.
i’ll die and be buried in the soil.
perhaps someone may lay a coffin in the ground
in the shape of my emptiness,
the vast surface area of loneliness.
i’ve loved in spite of every distraction
in spite of every dying emotion
in my brain.
i have walked in hands of friendships just to feel some sense of relief
but all they’ve done is empty me.
i sit on my bed every night,
nothing changes except the length of my sighs
knowing fully i’ll never escape.
i can’t tell the ones i love,
they’ll worry for me,
and they need some happiness in their lives too.
i can’t tell friends, i shove them away,
wondering why people never choose to stay.
i’m erratic and sick of my own games:
to watch on the sidelines and never take part.
so sick of the routines,
all i want to do is donate my heart
to you.
take good care of it and water it and this proves i have no clue what to do with it.
please make it a home, with a hearth
and make it happy,
i’ve tried, but i’ll never bring it peace.
no matter how long i sleep
the same emptiness stays until i am it
and it is all me.
i’m packing my bags,
i’m moving upstate,
i ache to be someone you tolerate but don’t hate.
i can’t be someone else,
i’ll always be six feet underneath as you gaze upon me
and your eyes are so alive
and i love you,
i do,
what has this come to?
my frail body lying in a bed of dirt—
i’m dead before i hit the ground.
the same day all over
can i just lay with you
until night falls softly upon your pillow
and you call me a friend,
i’m someone to defend,
worth someone to you.
i keep the room quite tidy
tidy enough so the emptiness has a satisfactory space.
but you’re in the kitchen
and i’m hugging my knees
i’m scared i’ll die lonely
empty pews in the church,
with the emptiness clinging to my fraying shirt sleeves.
what have i become?
the same monotonous cycle
defining every aspect in my life.
i’ve loved till my heart was whimpering in pain,
and i’ve recorded every sound to revisit its anguish
and i’ve served every doubt till it’s wasted in a bar.
i’ve loved every human who stopped just to tell me that i was worth existing,
even just for a second,
i’ve loved myself more for every joke you’ve ever laughed at
i’ve loved every second with you in it
and i want you to have my heart
because you can do great things with it.
i know you can
because the emptiness feels fuller when you’re around
and it sits down in a swivel chair and it listens to you
and actually smiles.
i was revived every time you’ve said my name
even by mistake,
i was less lonely some days,
just replaying the sounds till my cheeks hurt
and you’ll never know,
but just keep my heart warm.
keep it by the fire.
keep it by yourself
and
it’s certain to be safe.
i cried while writing this, especially towards the end. emptiness is a constant.

7/30/24
stillhuman Jul 2024
You got to know
the taste of my skin
and sometimes
I still feel your scent on my sheets
It left a mark, like an imprint,
the aftertaste of a rose flavoured wine
mixing in with kisses and tongues
and your tears that I would dry
and salty sweat that tasted so sweet
I still picture You there
brush strokes shaping
to mimic your shoulders falling and rising
and your voice shaking
tension high as I would love You
once starved, we could finally be sated
David Hilburn Apr 2024
Simple songs, with aplomb
Sincere hardship, the tact of poised
Welcome and heroism, to know an avid come
With the silence of friends, comes a worlds choice

Taken hope, to a lip we approve
Since in every definable way...
The taste of catharsis, a host with energies to loose
Adage in the day, with a soul's moment to say:

Resolute, no, with a fidelity to youth
Sour old hysteria; with a mercy in mind...
To collect a troubles key, for beginnings become the couth
That has us, for a considered play of light, that is kind

Means to an end, from here to eternity
An evening hour, to compare the more, to a solemn wish
Wizening at the dour, even as we confirm integrity
Do you know the repose a harmony, a place of sense that insists?

A wish with a soul for method, but know no patience
Without the common to step forward, your denial
Is a lend to powers that question, the music for relation
Of a still coming and with want, need is ours to go all the while
Till the brief and the grief say hi, will a burden of deliberation sit in the push?
Unpolished Ink Feb 2024
Tread the line between sea and sand
hold the wind, take its hand
let it out
anyway you choose
walk a mile in the ocean's shoes
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