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Denver Feb 2021
"You're crying again..."
"Am i?? ... sorry..."
"Stop saying sorry..."
"But i am..."
"Well don't be.. you don't need to be..... here, take this.."
"What is it?..."
"Vallium... "
"What? like .. like the Pidgeon film??"
"No you idiot that's Valliant.. this is Vallium... like the drug that stops you from shaking"
"I'm not shakein.. looks at my hands oh look.. i am, look at my hands ... ****"
"i know sighs you're whole body is shaking, i might put you in the bath with the washing, half an hour and you'd have even the whites clean"
"shut up that's not... spills drink while taking a sip true.."
"really?? take your drugs you ******.."
"you're a terrible doctor"
"good thing i'm not a doctor then.."
smiles
...
...
"Here have a tissue..."
"What for??"
"You're crying again..."
they say it's all in the mind..
well i should ****** well think so...
can you imagine if my belly button was in charge of thinking???
lawks a mercy where would we be...?
Clay Face Jan 2021
I’m the thing in the middle of the street at night.
I’m an alcohol prone cigarette drone.
Roll me up some suicide, I puff it with pride.
I’m what’s feared at night.
I even give myself a fright.
The world takes pictures of me.
A spectacle.
I’m the perfection of failure.
I’m the shadows.
The dismal abyss the world needs.
I’m colder than a robot.
Quieter than a rat.
I’m what you can but can’t see.
I’m cheaper than air and just as useful.
Use me up, ******* away.
I seek love and connection.
A warm place to be.
My disposition cuts connection clean.
I’m the H spoon.
Never washed, always abused.
I’m spread like a disease.
Unwanted, and to be killed.
Eradicate me please.
I’m a ***** injected, loose connected, nicotine aspirated, four cylinder waste machine.
No one cranks me with the hand of desire.
Just in lust of deceit and fire.
I’m thrown away when you’re done with me.
I’m the byproduct of society.
The degradation of sobriety.
I’m the Night Rider.
it's definitely my fault
the doubt of that is none

next time, i'll obviously act on them differently
next time though, i'll feel different

you have layers unending
so for you to not feel this as i do
is understandable
but for you to not try and understand
is regrettable
because i'm trying
admittedly, harder than anything else
guess that's why i'm struggling
Maria Hernandez Feb 2021
I used to think about you
almost every day,
there wasn't one thing that
didn't remind me of you,
but now there's nothing that
longs to the though of us,
of your name.

It's not that I've forgotten you, but I no longer
hang by you, or your memories with me;
maybe because I've found someone
to replace you;
to forget there
was ever a thought
of you.
Psych-o-rangE Dec 2020
Wanting to be heard, with nothing to say
Old recitations to dialogue in a play
We speak, in echoes, like poetry, it rhymes
And the father of learning is repetition

What only concerns is the comfort in your reflection

Death is a comfort that doesn't exist
When you're dead, nothing really is
Nothing really is, and nothing will be
Consistency
Michael Ryan Dec 2020
If I wrote my will
I'd leave everything I have
to a magpie,
they have a beautiful intelligence
something rarely seen
in any kind of species.

Of course this little bird
doesn't know
this old moss for much,
I am green,
clashing against
our wooden encagements.

A silent observer
to their fluttery exuberance
where it is impossible to tell
the crescendo of wind
from the absence
of feeling.

overwhelmed by longing
unable to fly
blurred beyond recognition
no longer watching

love you not
love me not
it is here
the will is written
please take it all.
I have nothing to give, so you already possess my life - entirely.
Hannah Dec 2020
Every day I tell myself tomorrow will be okay
But when the day arrives
I simply cannot stay
Saïda Boūzazy Dec 2020
After midnight, she starts thinking
She is wondering whether she is really fulfilling hers mission on earth or not!
What is the core of existing!
-Love,  hate,  then leaving-
she is obsessed by different feellings !
- fear,  love,  and hate -
She can't stop thinking about everything
-She is weirdos , -
Every idea takes a place on her own mind
After midnight , that idea starts poisoning her thoughts slowly
- like the moon  affecting us-
she stresses herself  asking about the real meaning of life.
As  for her , life becomes meaningless.
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