Tag Archives: 365Daysofpoetryproject

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Sixty-Five

lid is opening.
not too late, air a known.
quantity, subsist.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Sixty-Four

rusted shut.
kick and kick but resistance is futile.
worked all muscles.
but atrophy set in.
there were too many days.
between standing and laying.
then trying to stand again.
remember the exercises.
salvation lies in.
finding the flexibility.
to reach one thing at a time.
while holding off the pain.
fingers, wrists, arms.
all tingles, no way of knowing.
if they are doing what I say.
we accounted for this.
water is wet, after all.
rust will flake, salt dissolve.
with the right tools.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Sixty-Three

he called me a cunt.
this is my family.
no presents or Christmas cheer here.
just loneliness and heartache.

nobody’s fault but mine.
some asshole butchered Stairway last night.
and I don’t work at a guitar store.

so many things I should do.
but proper functioning is not on my radar.
I’ve broken the last good dream.
there was for me.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Sixty-Two

tis the season.
to think about things past.
miss the things you had.
and cry.

the cold shocks.
tears stop.
if only for a little while.
they always return.

too much.
always too much.
I break.
I am not strong.
I am not worthy.
but at least I’m alive.

for now.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Sixty-One

remember every scar.
he said.
then closed the lid.
left to his fate.
the anger motivates.
then destroys.
but erasure empties.
the beaten soul.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Fifty-Nine

these children of other gods.
we are denied by he.
who brought on this punishment.
the eternal joke.
they are abandoned as well.
our world too old to hold.
pleasure for beings.
who do not die.

creation all that satisfies now.
so many projects abandoned.
the universe groans under.
a quest for rebirth.
guilt and the ache of.
failed understanding.
scorch us all, it is.
their image we strive to.
though we have lost the way.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Fifty-Eight

moved by fear and the unknown.
we go to battle in an unspoken war.
no one too high to fall.
they made the monster sailing to.
unguarded shores, the sentient towers.
are awake no longer.

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