%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Isolation and the many other feelings associated with a 21st century global pandemic. |
|
Pandemic-inspired items. -mental health -isolation -loneliness -discontent -politics -wonder |
10-14-22 I know this moon you're on hasn't been named yet. Like a first day you're floating aimlessly between stations, waiting to be recognized while simultaneously being a stranger, optimistic but apprehensive. Alone to only your shadow. We share the same longings through differing planes; with this knowledge you'll never not be at my side. And when you doubt, just follow the air; you'll find me there. We get too caught up in this thinking that everything has to mean something instead of just being. I hope you find your place; I hope it bears your name. |
5-30-22 The cold, rubbing apprehension. A simple softness, the misuse of touch. The struggle of a people with nothing to fight for and no say in their abuse. When irony has nowhere to go, how far do you go to give it a home? And when is it not a place of your own? This tension is my alibi. I am not alone. Fuck your feeling for fucking my concern. These are the facts you don't wish to learn. Pity on your "favors'; a pox on your house. Hell is too nice a place for you to burn. You can spit in my face in disgust for not leaving well enough alone but "well enough" isn't good enough when murdering by proxy is your choice. This tension is my alibi. I am not alone. Retribution comes in many sizes and mine is all of the above. |
1-24-22 The man had a claim on a fortune, trapped in an iron lung fortress. When he passed I passed on a lot; never wanted a thing from the pisspot. Culture is forever; family's a breeding spot. Never means never means a lot, a lot. Whenever we tried to make the feathers fit the birds flew away forever and that's it. Ain't nothin' left to eulogize. Just another face for the archives. Archenemy, namesake, false place. No place left in the safe space. You can turn a man into multiples but you can't resurrect him into something close to what he never was or wanted to be. Trees don't grow the same from the same seeds. If this is my "let it be", so let it be. Another chapter closed on history. Ain't nothin' left to eulogize. Just another face for the archives. You can't be alive when you're dead inside. Thanks for not taking me along this tine. |
12-1-21 The rain pumps blood like proof of existence and I've been overthinkin' too much to enable resistance. There are pauses in the cracks of what we lack that let us go down the rabbit holes where we drown and I keep clownin' around the same old towns. To live is to forget or forget not to remember steps and traces, misplaces of thoughts or intents like, are we there yet? And the answer is always no when you don't know where else to go. You haven't slept enough to figure it out when dreams dehydrate you and strength is a myth dictating you. It burns you to the ground you're too nervous to stand on but the ceiling is forever; for never, not the most clever. All that's left is a train of thought leaving the station before you even have the equation to solve salvation this instant and that's how you end up with mysterious regrets you can't run to or from. This is what you are now, the present precedence 'til you're overcome. |
11-6-21 You're the lump in my throat when I can't speak; I choke on the words I can barely repeat. This danger isn't new but I thought I'd be used to the damage by now instead of flailing around by my vocal chords, filled with every word about expressing my care without fighting for air. You're in my throat and can you let yourself out so you can see what I'm talking about if you can hear me at all? |
11-27-21 Some day you'll be president and I'll be right. I'll be alright. I'm not worried; should I be, with that which doesn't concern me? You have your rights. And it's not you keeping me up all these nights. So what? So what am I doing wrong? If you can hurt, then so can I, even if it's only a feeling and it's the only thing we share. |
10-22-21 You're sitting in front of the Courthouse Park fountain, watching the water come up and down with every breath you take in and out. Imagine a tiny droplet, and maybe it's the size of a tear you've cried. As that feeling rises, your lungs expand and your chest fills, ready to see that teardrop fall back into the pool. You exhale, slowly, as your tear washes and blends into its true surroundings. You're one with the water now, and no longer alone. You're at peace. You're at home. |
10-21-21 I keep my distance and mind my own business. You can't sanitize enough and I won't apologize for it. When you move right, I go left. When you're side-to-side, I'm extinct. lather rinse repeat The second verse is a curse as worse as the first. |
10-14-21 As my shoulders sunk into the bottom pillow and my head cocked to the side, I readied myself for another shift at the factory of sleep, aware of the benefits without pay. |
10-11-21 I hung us. I strung us. The rope-a-dope stylist is the real alchemist. Did you think it gave you a new instinct? I've knives made from railroad ties and seen things besides the truth and its lies. I tried to warn you before but you wrote your life unsure of its contents and missteps and flagrant regrets. The stylist is upset by things she can't reset while you sit knowing a youth misspent that you won't accept and we all have the proof. I can cut you or cut you, or cut you and cut you, but nothing will stop me from you as I tell you I told you so. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
