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Zywa Jul 2024
I almost stumble

over the tangles of web --


of loose thoughts I spun.
Play "Peer Gynt" (1867, Henrik Ibsen; music Edvard Grieg, 1876), fifth act, "Nattscene" ("Night scene") - The dying Peer Gynt looks back on his life

Collection "VacantVoid"
Chelsea Quigley Jul 2024
You are harsh
To yourself.
Why would this be ?
Has life made you doubt
Of the worth that I see ?
We are driven
By others ,
And our brain the driver.
Speeding too fast
From someone no wiser.
Breaking the breaks
When our gas is low.
Others do see ,
Yet nobody shows.

Do you really wish
For them to proceed?
Wrecking your worth
Until you bleed.

But thoughts
Of our own,
Are no others to mould.
Your mind is free
As is your soul.

For the mind it cracks
Under false illusion.

As conclusions of false ,
Are the brains confusions.
Jeremy Betts Jul 2024
iNNER THOUGHTS BECOME INTENSE
aS THEY PICK APART IT'S OWN DEFENSE
mAKING DOOM PREDICTIONS AT IT'S OWN EXPENSE
fINDING A NEED TO RELIEVE SUSPENSE
hENCE THE ARRANGEMENT OF LETTERS INTO WORDS THAT MAKE SENSE
tHE TRANSLATION ITSELF IS A JUMBLED MESS
tHE CRANIUM FEELS FAR TOO DENSE
wHAT IS THIS NONSENSE?
lOVE AND HATE IN THE SAME CONTENTS
rUSH TO TAKE OFFENSE
cAN NEVER GET IT OUT BEFORE  THE CRACK UP AND BREAKDOWN COMMENCE

©2024
Lydia Jul 2024
the things that hurt me
are not what I ever expect to
I remember what those words felt like
when they are numbing
I immediately **** into myself straight for disassociation for protection
it stung so hard you should’ve smacked me
when I’m left speechless
and my heart turns off
I don’t find it ever works the same again
the things you say that hurt me
are not curses but they cast a spell on me
back to wondering if I’m too sensitive
lua Jul 2024
stars in my eyes
like headlights flashing
leaving me standing
like a deer in the street
its the things we see
through tear-webbed lashes
stretched out rays when i blink
and the wind picks up
if i were skinnier
id be a leaf in the breeze
but my solitude grounds me
land locks me
docks me like a boat at a pier
and there are no
stars tonight
just polyfill with spiders in them
just puffs of smoke and pollution
bringing whispers
bringing caresses
sprinkling the earth
and flooding my bathrooms

my right knee is ******
i'm not sure why?
it's too late now.
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2024
[Coup de foudre]
//
A sudden unexpected event, especially
an emotional one; love at first sight

Now the question on my mind: is there any detail
to love at first sight; for the naked eye
finds pleasure in a **** body in silk or satin;
as he’s so anticipated of her, in a customary hot pose,

Deflowering the garden’s well protected rose
dropping her guard and unwrapping her sensual soul;
Soft lips as his chest- to the pleasure of a heart
still, what if love at first sight wasn’t so pure;
an enhancement of one’s value

An exaggerate beauty, a functional part’s wants
In the eyes of another, I have seen how much I desired them
as my own selfish needs- that was my love at first sight
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2024
[Coup de main]
/ku da meIn/
-a sudden development or action to surprise an enemy

Oh in groups of ten
-the devils who chase after me, with spears of metal
as pride is the ****** of mighty, but lonely men; as I
drown myself, as a wave locked out of the sea

The ships of time have sailed atop my fresh wrinkles
skinned knees, blood and awkward sweat- pouring
as when a man confesses his love to their crush:
utterly consumed, ultimately crushed

This must be the first strike of love- with its cannon
roars; leaving holes in my heart. As to fall in love
is an action that has caught me by surprise
As none this time, will be spared.
Jeremy Betts Jul 2024
I tried to resurrect you in every thought I had
I tried to connect through words on a notepad
I have tried to let go of the sad
I tried every coping mechanism I had
...you weren't even a good dad...

©2024
Austin Sessoms Jul 2024
Not being the one to do the work
Of mowing my lawn every couple of weeks
Waking up or passing out to
Hands on a pushmower out my bedroom window
The landscapers scaping the land
At what feels like the crack of dawn
Waking up to a full compost bin
And a barren backyard
It’s a trip
Nothing inside is maintained
With the same aim to minimize clutter
And maximize space - open space
It’s like nothing is better to look at
Than thriving - expanding environments
Left to incorporate anything ready to grow
Refuse accepted as art as it piles up
Hoarding possibilities and information
And meaningful clutter
Gutting it isn’t just clean
It’s reductive
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