Rust

injurious thoughts

penetrating a tired mind

the head’s fabric torn

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Status Quo

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ALL the communities they stomp on have been pounded down long enough.
As the oppressed, we’ve seen and taken abuse in all forms.
Many have died.

We’ve watched and endured their childish ways.
And been on the receiving end of their vile behavior for way too long.
Suffered too much.

The oppressors – all shapes, colors, and forms – have ignored decency for an eternity.
The torture, the depravity, the madness of their control must end.
It is ENOUGH!

Things must change for the better.
We’re done with going two steps forward and six back.
There is no place for them at the table of civility.

ALL who they deem disposable will have their revolution.
They’ve pushed them too far.
There is a storm coming.

It’s time to clear out the rot.
Return the evil to the rocks from under which they crawled out.
May we learn to never repeat the sins of our past.

And may the nefarious never return…

Truth

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Sidney Erthal

It’s the place underneath the obvious.
I wanna go deep.

Time to overcome this unease.
I wanna be still.

To excise the superficial, project the truth.
I wanna be real.

To let the music carry me on its wings.
I wanna feel free.

Reveal the tenderness and compassion buried in my pain.
I wanna be me…

I wanna to be happy.

 

Ugly Ways

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Silent deception
Confident chicanery
You smiling bastard

Hard hit to the heart
Foreign reality now
Weight of lies broke me

Forever altered
Gazillion hurt pieces
Difficult to breathe

Difficult to live
Struggling to survive in pain
Dark for a long time

Hopelessness

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Lucid Being 315

In the clutches of this mental sinkhole, forced effort my only ally.

My day is silent, slow tears and exhaustion.

The bed, my refuge.

This world feels so far removed from inside my womb of despair.

Dark, alone and unwell.

I need to stop sinking.

Or eventually, I will float.

Going Down

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The light slowly leaving.

Dolor creeping into this blank space in my head.

Swallowed up in this ever-deepening gray haze minimizing my liveliness.

Pitch-blackness, my old friend, immobilizing me again.

No energy, desire, motivation or strength.

This thick sadness creates a loneliness where hope can’t creep in.

Courage oozes away, one drop after another of life leaking to somewhere it can’t return from.

Goals left to die in the waves of this depression.

Silent tears pitching between wet, heavy sobs.

An aching all-encompassing deep pain leaving invisible scars.

Severe despondency and dejection, I doubt life can go on.

It’s a reality in my head not worth living.

Escape from that which continually pulls me down feels impossible, this devastating extreme of the opposite of happy.

It feels like I’m stolen from me.

I feel over.