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Lydia Jan 2018
I found my boots where I discarded them five hours ago when I left for work
I shouldn't have been surprised- I knew I had put them there
I just usually don't

My boss was still around when I got there
He put me on an hour earlier for Fridays, so I suppose I'll see him every once in awhile now
When it's just a little too early for him to go home

I hate leaving for seven am in the dark with my hair wet
Distant shuffling noises, echoed ghosts of late last night
Shadows I can't understand
Only cut through by kind people who make breakfast when I can't pull myself together

Our habitat is warm- it surrounds me like a rainforest exhibit in a museum
Somehow not unfamiliar, or exotic,
Exactly like you expected,
Exactly like the pictures

I fell asleep at noon when I got home
Late nights to early mornings to interviews for a real job
Late nights to early mornings to nursing classes
So it goes

I don't remember when my socks came off
When I crawled into bed
When I woke up half alive
I wouldn't have remembered to leave for work at all if I hadn't set an alarm late last night when I got home

"I can't believe I'm doing this."
No time at home, just notes and then more notes and then
Sleep, I guess
Sleep and work and sleep at work as long as I'm on break
Not breaking focus, eyes on some sort of goal I can't quite see yet
But it's there, I know it's there, I've heard it, like a rumor spread so many **** times you can't help but believe it like the most obvious fact
So I'm here, straight as an arrow
Shorts on, notebook out, letting my tea seep into my spirit and fill in all the cracks before I start over
First of all, can anyone guess my current (part time, think high school/college student) job? Tomorrow I submit my application for a nursing assistant program. I have had OCD since I was ten, causing me to fear contamination more than anything. It is also an extra month of trying to save money from work and balanxe classes at the same time. So I'm laying here in bed and could finally finish this poem with the added inspiration, "I can't believe I'm doing this." Please comment! :)
IrieSide Mar 2017
I saw death,
no angels singing
nor plumes of hades

Energy relaxes
leaving spiritless flesh

No romance,
like that of a grim reaper
or noble feats on a cross

an evaporating mist

I saw death,

no strength I gained
but a feeling of shame

It's strange,
this feeling of immortality

in

we, the animated skeletons
of humanity

It's simplicity really,
there's no magic in death
xmxrgxncy Mar 2017
I cannot sleep, for I'm nursing a sheep,
A coughing, sputtering lamb;
I cannot rest, for I'm doing my best
My medicinal best that I can.

Mama was young, and she knew no demands
For how to care, it was told;
Mama was scared, and she left them to stand
And to freeze in the shuddering cold.

Baby girl died, it was frosty and bleak
Under that black food bowl she lay;
Baby girl died, she was so unique
The size of a child's shoe, she bayed.

So here I sit nursing a poor coughing lamb,
Here I sit nursing a sick deathly man,
Here I sit hoping-just maybe- he'll live,
Futilely promising my life for his.
I'm now, as we speak, sitting in bed holding a lamb wrapped in towels who is Wetly hiccuping and coughing and bleating weakly. I hope he lives. His name is Bud. I'm promising myself that if he lives, well repair our well being together, onestep at a time.
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