I wonder how many times I'll say hello to these strange people I am said to know. I can see the look on their faces and the false happiness that they all show. Why can't they be real why must they lie? I'm sick of being played by time! I want them to be straight up, I want them to know that I can see their problems they always show. I just want them to be real to stop the lying and hate. Why can't they just say these things to my face! Mabey I could help them or at least understand why. But no these idiots think its smarter to hide. To keep the demons that eat at their pride. I'll tell you this I want you to know that if I have a problem I won't be apart of your emotionless show. I'll open up express my thoughts. To many times have I welled up my thoughts, but now I'm boiled over to the brim. I've taken so much and held it all in. But not again I can't hold it in, I've been filled to the brim. I'm sorry but not again, I can't do it this is the end.
This is my third account. I think I'm a poet. Old account made in uh duh I thank it's was in 2009 and I love to sit and create accounts to post and post and post mainly dumbshit stuff. I wear thick glasses cause I need them. I don't like being black so I sit and pretend to be white like most on here. I'm an idiot and I hate myself so freaking much.
I was never your protector, you abused my stoic nature
Madcap orgies for days on end, and copious substances, abused
The blaring music, disturbing the peace, rattling windows
and you dismantled my structure, and yours alongside it
I am just a house
I was never the crutch you needed, nor was I a friend
Remember those long nights on the town with raving girls
and you were irate when I fell to the floor; rich man's art piece
Now you snivel and scratch because you flushed me in haste
I am just cocaine
Pair me up with old white friends in speedball imprudence
Meticulous measurements in early days but you grew reckless
Now your ghastly macabre silhouette on back alley walls
Is all that remains in this dead town that you still saunter in
I am just heroin
You put too much emphasis on me, to defend the sentient
and you stare me down on the kitchen table, questioning
You hold me close and I feel your brow, indecisiveness
and now I'm caressing your temple; bemoaning barrel
I am just a gun
You sit and attribute voices to the voiceless and inanimate
because for years you have repressed your depression
When you should have asked for help and not escapism
and today you end it all, alone and weeping for something you know not what
I am just your psyche
Daddy got the rum.
Mama got the cola.
Had me wondering?
Then the mixed it up and stir it more.
Then they took a drink.
And said, mmmmmmmmmm.
Had me thinking?
Then they offer me some eggnog.
And a chance to get cookies out of the cookie jar.
Had me smiling?
While I'm enjoying the moment.
I notice my parents going in for another mixture of their drinks.
Had me pondering?
As the Christmas music played along for hours.
I soon saw my parents was passed out.
Had me investigating just what that drink was about?
Then I realize, I had the roam of the house all to myself.
To call Santa and talk to his elves.
And to request that upon delivering toys that they bring my parents a drinkable gift.
What more could I ask for?
I look forward to her sweet love an affection
she is better than any drug I have done
she is the greatest natural high
I never want to come down
I fein for her 24/7 I suffer from withdrawals
I can never get enough of her
my family and friends don't understand
they call it an addiction I call it a love affair
she is the beautiful girl I dance in my dreams with
she is the special girl I share my secrets with
she is the intelligent girl that helps solve my problems and tame my inner demons
DOCTOR FOSTER WENT TO GLOUCESTER
or so the story says. Trot, trot around the puddles and glop that are keeping the roads in disarray. Skittish with its wishes as its tail flips, whips, and swishes; but, a horse is a horse as we all know of course! And there's no doubt this one snorts while behaving like a jack-ass...
IN A SHOWER OF RAIN.
that suddenly came like a cane to inflict pain after behavior causes shame, but one in the same, history won't remember the names of the inconsequential claims to fame who witnessed the humiliation of Long Shanks when...
HE STEPPED IN A PUDDLE
oh screw it! He flew through the air like a rather large flair with wind blowing his hair until...Splash! With a...Crash! And so many people laughed because the great man did try to stand in a puddle as big as a trash can filled with water, mud, and debris...
RIGHT UP TO HIS MIDDLE
and yes, it probably tickled though such things made him fickle about being in such a pickle and so with a few little hand jiggles he was pulled from the slop, where his face really did plop and needed a mop so he could see. Red as can be, for angry was he! Enough! He did roar for humiliation seems to never boar the heartless who try hard to hurt and keep score. So he rode home...
AND NEVER WENT THERE AGAIN!
Nothing felt so surreal as when he called me perfect
Insecurities were lifeless within me
Floating along on a breeze I
danced among the clouds; caught up
Nothing mattered except when he called me baby
I was his and he was mine
In my mind there was no space in-between
Nothing was more erotic than when
he slid his arms around my waist
face in my neck, chills down my spine
hands shivering, short breaths
Nothing was more incredible than that....
Nothing was more upsetting than when he was upset
with me especially
Nothing hurt worse than the names
Than the disappointment
Than the expectations
Nothing was harder than the court orders
Than the shelters
Than the sleepless nights
Nothing was longer than the drive out of state
Than parenting single
Than the not knowing
Nothing stabs like a tear soaked pillow
or a broken heart
Nothing makes me feel more like a fool
Than wanting him back
Than missing his laugh
His smile, his charms
Call me crazy