Strike! But I sense that your rich poetry is headed towards philosophy. Criticizes the exacerbated materialism, living to pretend. I felt something like: "although she dresses in silk, mona stays", the paradox of the person who lives of appearances weaves a spider's web that in the end always breaks its seams and reveals what is inside in the dark.
I go through the threads and say: Ahhh ...!
¡Excellent, Pryde!

The “no placebo diet” was funny.  What a vivid imagination.  Great way to breathe life and death into a spider. Great Job.

This week flew.

Hi, @prydefoltz ☻

Here's my comment on your post. Loved the twist at the end ♥

>Some of The Matrix is left in the far reaches of my memory.
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I want to say many things, but I'll summarize them into one: Who said we have to choose between the blue and red pills and swallow?
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keep your red pills
and blue ones too
I’m on a no placebo diet
they give me nightmares
and day terrors, flatulence
itches and chills
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Yes, ma'am!
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Brave write, @prydefoltz! It shouts determination.

I love the nostalgic tone of your poem. These memories of childhood passed in a climate of authoritarianism necessary for the time. That's how she raised you and then you raised her. Chain that had been reproduced from generation to generation until these times when the patterns reversed, for better or for worse. I observe the repetition of the expression: "She did not play" and I feel that it reveals a line of thought. Is he playing badly? Play irresponsible? Are you playing immature? Is playing a privilege? The truth is that she "did not play" and established a pattern in the psyche of the voice, when she was a child and asked ... Did not the voice, as a mother, play?
Good job, I congratulate your creative art, @pyemoney.

When we are children, we do not appreciate that the firm hand of a mother is love. It is the road to good values.

Hi, @pyemoney.
Loved reading your poem. Here's my comment on your post:

>Certainly, we love our parents more once we are old enough (or perhaps having children of our own already ) to know better.
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I had a great time reading this piece, @pyemoney. It has some of an elegy and some of an ode, and sure a lot of love.
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Thanks for sharing! ♥

Your poem highlights some of the things we forget to appreciate  and enjoy in life. Good job.

Hi, dear @zeleiracordero ☻
Here, my comment on your post. Beautiful layout by the way, trails of memory with smell of coffee.

>My grandmother told my mother that all times already past were better. It turns out it's a fact. I learned our brains like to think we were happier before. And yet it happens to me all the time; I long for happier moments, sweeter tastes and definitely there's coffee aroma in all that.
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Beautiful write, @zeleiracordero! ♥

Mmmmm ... How much sensuality! It seems to me a clandestine love. Of those who do not wake up in the same bed. Those that the moon, as an accomplice, hides from the public light. Those that seduce people who like the forbidden. Good job, brother!

Nice imagery of passion and love. Good job.

Hi, @corderosiete ☻

Here's my comment on your post:

>A warm night in this poem, @corderosiete.
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I guess long nights are for all less pleasant matters.
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Good!

A great read of a writer who gets lost in thought while time slips away. Good job.

Thanks for reading friend.