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#altlit
braiindeath · 2 months
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he says “blood is thicker than water”.
she smiles. “i agree. the blood of my injuries is thicker than the water of your tears.”
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crypticqueen · 3 months
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My flip on Fripp; There's a Comfort in uncomfort Discipline's a tick. Tension > Time Time / Repetition Repetition = Insanity In sanity Diligent | 010323 -Crypticqueen
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matthew-pasquarello · 2 years
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polish off a bottle of problems and skinny dip in the bedsheets covered in dull enthusiasm, for there are demons waving flags on every street corner protesting whatever the fuck demons feel the need to protest and when the sun goes down they’ll watch television in the same skull they’ve always had 
a weird world sat on top of the cosmos’ mountain and teetered either way - all it takes is a breath from a Titan pissed off from an ear infection 
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juryoftheword · 1 year
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No Answers
Answers left unquestioned
A teenage show it all
Confidence that overshadows
Fragile puppets on the wall
Questions left unanswered
As the shadows shrink to size
The veneer now is middle aged
And impish crises improvise
Old age calms the puppeteer
Acceptance he’s unmastered
Answers rightly questioned
Rightly remain unanswered
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riddlemethispoetry · 3 years
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I used to joke that I never felt anxious once I was on stage.
When I'm performing, everything becomes a fixed variable. There'll be a mic, kind of near my face, an audience somewhere in front of me.
Often, I'll put a stool to my left so I can put a glass of water on it.
Too often these days, I don't make it out of bed. I don't know if I should
call my bookie and tell them I have bedhead, that I couldn't comb my hair right,
my Frankensteinian screws just wouldn't take, I caught my hand between two sheets, and
I'm sorry Jimmy. Not tonight.
Sometimes my depression and I play peekaboo,
Play at ignoring our object permanence; lie, like the sheets are the edges and we are playing shadow puppets, laughing, laughing with one another like
We are still children, and the world has not touched us yet.
It is a strange thing how we become accustomed to space.
Perhaps the edges of my bed are a stage, and perhaps I can play at being all kinds of people while I am here, perhaps I could be a president, no.
I don't think I would like that, my hair will soon go grey already.
Perhaps I could pretend to be a football player so when my legs run in the night I am just practising, maybe I am a wrestler, I know I don't look the part yet, but maybe that's why I thrash and fight it's all in good fun.
Sometimes my sheets are haunted.
Inlaid with the of ghosts, and memories, and I think ghosts might be pretty scary, but it's worst when your recognise them, like
You can't tell if you subconscious mind is trying to find an answer to grief, or to solve a jigsaw puzzle without a part that you gave away to someone kind, or someone that smiled to you, and the worst thing about grieving is looking at yourself and asking yourself about all these things you might have been if
If is the most awful word in the English language. If, conditional, such that the variable, you; might change something, anything really.
I am haunted by what ifs.
Some nights they look like you, but some nights they look like me.
Some nights it is like you and I are standing ankle deep in a pool of memories, and we are holding hands looking for how we got here, or any clue to what happens next; listen. That, that is still you finding answers.
Some nights it is like you and I are standing ankle deep in a pool of memories, except some nights you are not there, and there is no one holding my hand, or yours, and the pool was deeper than I ever realised and I am drowning in it.
I am drowning in it, thrashing like my eyes are closed and I do not know which way is up and I wonder some times whether nightmares are your brain problem solving worst case scenarios so when it comes up, which it hopefully never will, your brain has an answer ready, and that's all well and good, but it would be nice if brain asked first, and I am drowning in ankle deep memories.
When I was little, I nearly drowned.
I forget the specifics of how I got myself into such a misadventure. Still, I remember it being dark, and being afraid, and being alone.
I remember letting go of of half held breath, opening my eyes and following the bubbles to the surface; as if a dream.
Open your eyes. To your left, somewhere over there is a glass of water.
In front of you is an audience, you may not seem them right now. In front of you is a microphone. I don’t tell jokes about never feeling anxious, anymore. They feel disingenuous. Shakespeare wrote that all the world is a stage. I hope not. I would hate that. I could spend a lifetime in the audience though, and never tire of listening to you. 
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poetryinthedark · 2 years
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Madness With You
I can’t take the nakedness of your stars any more. Blind dripping blazing light,conflagration along the line of sight. It’s madness how it razesretinas into a black so absolute that it voids time and space.
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evelyncait · 3 years
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I’d love
I’d love to be the kind of poet
who takes to stages
believes their words put together just so
can change what the audience knows
Bring color to sound
taste to phrase
meat and potatoes to cadence
Who leaves their bellies full 
of all the things
they’ve never considered before
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honest-inks · 4 years
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Catching
The warm glow of village windows and
Birdsong at dusk, I
Remember sitting out in dappled purple
Sipping something gold
Snorting at a bad joke
Bathed in the hum of other convos and
A slice of hanging fairy lights
If asked what summer nights I'd miss
the most, I'd say
The long ones
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mimonstruopop · 3 years
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El asesino del anime
El asesino del anime vino a buscarme
Corre estirando los brazos hacia atrás 
Y desaparece
Y aparece entre los árboles
Saca sus shuriken 
Las tira pero falla
Falla porque quiere
Todavía no me va a matar
Es un gatito con su presa
Me sonríe y babea hace señas
Desaparece
Aparece otra vez
Desaparece
Soy un elfa temblando 
Estoy lejos de mi elemento
Me acorrala 
Pequeño ratoncito
Me dice
Cuellito blanco
Boquita de plastilina
Es tierno 
Me levanta 
Me ahorca
Cuellito blanco
Me dice
Y es dulce 
Pequeño veneno
Aparece
Y desaparece
Saca su espada
Mi cuerpo
Rosado
Tirita
ya no 
Me pertenece
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plainverses · 4 years
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Missed Target - 190516
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poemsnotpromises · 5 years
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Daydreamer.
I dream of you
out of
context,
content to
blur the line
between
the living
and the
damned.
---
But I want a
lover, not
a muse,
somewhere
deep
within my
bones
a reminder
of what is
and what could
have been. And
---
I don't want
to die here
anymore,
don't wanna
take two
to get right.
I want to
tear down
these walls
and run
screaming
toward you,
---
my dream
come true.
What a
nightmare
I am.
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crypticqueen · 3 months
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Nectar sips grant This well-lit dimwitt Confidence disproportional to The ability to Back the 'brains' part Of the plan to take over your mother's nest. Tequillaaayaya | 011324 -Crypticqueen
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matthew-pasquarello · 2 years
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Page 17 out of, whatever this new book of poetry will be. #poetry #lit #writing #creativewriting #altlit #poem #poems #writingcommunity #writer #writers #writersofinstagram #art #prose #words #writerscreed https://www.instagram.com/p/CdUw4WzMFuO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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braiindeath · 4 years
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i cannot feel them so my fingers often bleed
what a sad state of affairs.
and he’d follow me into a minefield because he can’t see the woods for the trees.
what a heavy cross to bear.
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riddlemethispoetry · 3 years
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The words I wished to say to the girl in my psych's waiting room.
"Hello," and "I'm sorry."
"I promise we are going to be okay."
"You are an island and it doesn't matter how powerful the storm, I know that the lashes of rain will hurt, but you will survive, and be here after."
"Anxiety feels like suffocating while standing in the middle of a ring of fire. You know there is danger there, but your body doesn't hurt yet, your cheeks flush, your eyes close; hands shake. Stop. That is not where you are."
"The expression getting along like a house on fire has always seemed strange to me, like the only relationships I've felt like fire were toxic ones, and even if they held all this potential energy, they were always going to be short-lived, and as I crawled out from beneath the burning wreckage then the toxic fumes might scar my lungs, my thoughts; my memories.
Every night, I think about all the things I want to say when I come here, like my psychiatrist is a confessor, but I can't decide if I'm the sin, but I know you're not, and I hope you find a way to be happy."
"If you tie a rope around the ankle of a baby elephant, by the time it is grown it will not know it is strong enough to break free of the rope, so it does not try.
You are strong enough to choose to be free."
"The funny thing about chains is that we forget they are there. They become part of the every day like brushing your teeth taking a shower, or forgetting someone loves you.
Emancipation takes conscious deconstruction of the walls and fences that keep us penned in, and you can knock them all down if you acknowledge that they're there."
"The mind can be like an escape room with now ways out, and all these puzzles that you think you have to complete to get to the next door, or the next stage and you might be turning pages like you just want to get to the end of the story, or the answer, and maybe the mind is more like a pyramid, or a labyrinth, I have often felt like a lab rat stuck in a maze with no way out, that's why I come to therapy and do you ever feel like that?"
"Sometimes I feel like a scarecrow standing in a field watching all these ravens whirling swirling in the sky above me except my scarecrow eyes have never seen a raven before, so all they see are these living breathing shadows, and I don't know if they'll eat me or eat the corn, but I am afraid of these shapes in my scarecrow eyes, and I can't stop thinking about them."
"In the church I worked in, every morning before I turned the lights on, I'd light votive candles for everyone on my heart my mind for every story that I thought that God could change if he put his mind to it.
I have often thought that God must be a poet, but one with a wry sense of humour, and I think He loves building suspense as much as he loves building cathedrals.
Every morning, I would light these candles like they were a lighthouse, and I was trying to guide God home to you, and I don't go to church much anymore, but if I did, I'd light you a candle because you deserve to be happy, and I'm so proud of you for being here for being alive, and I don't know if God sees you, but I do.
You deserve candles, and you deserve a lighthouse, and you deserve to find your way home after being lost at sea all these years, I don't know if Odysseus would have survived your journey, but
You have, and that's an incredible story. I'd love to hear all of it someday."
Instead, I say nothing. 
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watching porn
I watch porn! Yeah I do
And it turns me on
You can call me what you want
but hey! at least I come!
Sweet dreams after the foaming, wet thoughts
Dirty search history at midnight
I go to sleep like a high school average guy
I watch porn - not sorry, not anymore
it releases my body, and so does my soul
it's not a sin, it's healthy, it's cool
But, and this is according to you...
If I am a slut then I am no good,
then I have no agency over my body
and I'm everyone's to use,
and if I am a prude, I might hold the truth
but I never touch the Sun therefore
I am never right for none of you, so get off my panties,
fuck off, (it's true)
my body and my soul will find a way out of this mess
I'm in the corners, I'm breathing in the end
So much has to change though - some really turns me off
you motherfuckers ripping our asses thinking it's hot,
leaving us dry and broken, thinking it's oh so fun,
the more we cry, the more you cum...
Just look at my underlining of fire! Let it out! Let it out!
I also can see, and it's hard to speak,
the decay and the blossom, hand in hand
the flowers are electrified, and they rise!
They might die but they are filled with danger light
look at me, I'm yours tonight
how I am sweating in desire at your cock's sight,
look at me, look at my body, look at my eyes,
watch it spread and swell, watch my thirst - please dwell
and feels like I'm dying - going above
all this so-called sewer, is the clearest water,
so crystalline - from the waste, so pristine
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