Feeling generous two more for the floor.

The Lost Boy’s

Urban concrete jungle
In the twilight hours
This is where the lost boys are.

Kaleidoscope eyes,
Discordant vowels

These are the marks the lost boys make.

Electronic beats,
Songs of angst
These are the sounds the lost boys need.

Sad panda eyes,
Downward faces
The war paint of the lost boys.

Drum boogie,
Anti fashion,
This is what the lost boys wear.

Rejected by society,
Reminders of youth since lost
This is who the lost boys are.

Two o’clock shadows
Artificial mist provides cover
As the lost boys slip home.

On the dance floor,
By the bar
This is where the lost boys are.

 I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before but I suffer really bad panic attacks I recently tried to capture one in a poem so here it goes.

Solitude

Faceless streets close in around, as corridors seem to stretch into infinity,
A burst of adrenaline and the heart seems to beat irregularly a small bird
Desperate to escape the cage. The flight of logic begins as images blur into
Chaotic thoughts.-
Why am I here?

Where am I?

How do I get away?

Rapidly now the intakes of breathe like pressure changing to swiftly for
The deep sea diver-

                        vision threatens to blur-

hands suddenly seem to be the
Source of too much water become clammy
Why am I here?

Where am I?

How do I get away?

Feeling the world is watching judging seeing the panic a tsunami of
Depression crashes in eradicating the last vestiges of self control. Panic,
Anxiety are only a breathe away. Claw desperately to an out strung branch
Of reality…..the tender fragile hope snaps and the wave washes everything
Away-
Why am I here?

Where am I?

How do I get away?

Looking out/

            through/

                        .tear misted eyes/

                                                struggle

.gasping like a beached fish/

                        in the grip of delusion/

                                                .opened Pandora’s
box/

       can’t think straight/

                        help me!!!

I want to GO HOME

One of the gray empty faces detaches, approaches talks calms and
reassures,
Sit down count to ten then breathe and again slowing slowing slowed, a
warm overly sweet tea is placed in my hands “you’re all right now it was
just a panic attack”
Why am I here?

Where am I?

How do I get away?

 

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