Stream of Consciousness

you used to call me blaze
i wish you'd use me as a match, strike me against all the rough surfaces, sandpaper, the sidewalk, your own edges. you used to call me blaze,
By Daniel Kabout a month ago in Poets
Faceless Desires. Top Story - December 2025.
As I lumber Padded, hidden Heavy with glorious light Endless pockets Bulging, overflowing Yet sown up tight Glittering memorial dust
By K.B. Silver about a month ago in Poets
What's In A Name
I might answer to at least, more than one hundred names some left a wound the others left me changed And I can't take them back, I wouldn't if I could
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a month ago in Poets
When We're Gone From Here. Content Warning.
When the dust of our existence Is naught but a memory And this world repairs the damage Done to her by you and me,
By Dana Crandellabout a month ago in Poets
Corner of Minds?
It has to be dark Light second everything the people has to be blind while inside but living "the daily-life" Or else the scene so not quite Has light light light be secondary The last line a fight! Remind sports lights going going going outside and winter — doom the lines slanted upwards Be careful Corner bends light.
By K.A. Smithabout a month ago in Poets
A Beautiful Death
If life is a cloud then, death is the rain Falling like a shroud over ash in a grave Searching for a flame or a spark to get started
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a month ago in Poets
Between the Doors
I stand at a crossroads that doesn’t look like a crossroads at all— just a cracked sidewalk with signs pointing everywhere
By Vnessa Hdzabout a month ago in Poets
that ol' christmas box
i found an old box of moms christmas decor in the back of my walkout closet i sat in the living room watching tv when i finally decided to rummage through it
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsdenabout a month ago in Poets
The Celtic Cross That Carried the Roses
Every flame begins with a rupture. Every rose blooms from a fracture. This is not a ritual of control, but a ceremony of creation.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli about a month ago in Poets
Mourning
Sorrowful parting no more dismay to be seen farewell, to past me ~~~~~~~~~~ By the way, I removed, like, one hundred of my posts (randoms, poems, short stories, etc.) days ago; mostly because I won't feeling them anymore, partially because a few short stories are already in two collections of mine I published (and some poems that were removed will return in a published collection in the future).
By Luna Jordanabout a month ago in Poets
Kisses After Chaos
We had a fight that started over nothing— a spoon left in the sink, a look you misread, My tone doing that thing it does
By Milan Milicabout a month ago in Poets
Love, Rewritten
We wrote each other in pencil first— soft lines, easy laughter, erasable promises on the back of receipts. Then you started crossing things out:
By Milan Milicabout a month ago in Poets