Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ellie Martin Feb 2015
Highschool! Supposingly the “time of our lives” or where a study guide is more important than our mental state of being! It’s also the only place where you write thousand of definitions every year, but you can’t even define your self worth. Where you solve millions of equations, but you can’t even add up your life value. Solve for your life, school-health(life)= future. The definitive times of our lives are turning into the worst. Balancing your social wellbeing with the hell of being popular and skinny, even starving yourself for days because the queen bee bought herself the newest style, and it’s a size too small. Subtracting the calories from the equation of wanting to binge your heart out while cramming for the test of flirting with that new boy after school. Adding the new dress, new heels, and new personality to your already masked appearance because the party you got invited to is where the “prettiest” of girls add up your self worth for you solving for the simplest equation. Makeup(Skinny)(Big ****)(Tall)= PRETTY. The word everyone seems to have a definition for except you. A word that could try to define your schooling career, but you can’t find the correct sources. Then theres the nights where you stay up until the early dawn, sobbing yourself to sleep because you can’t remember how to do so on your own. The definition of sleep : A natural periodic state of rest for the mind and body. But who remembers that? How am I supposed to solve the equation of rest? These definitions make up your state of being, piercing to your brain like clothing labels, being ripped off when they are no longer needed. The equations make up your body, or what's naturally left of it. Memorizing everything a person says about you, adding up the looks you get in the hallways rushing to class, reading the syllabus to everyone’s expectations for you. Expectations. Expectations. EXPECTATIONS. They come as blurs, never specific or clear enough. They shove through your tired brain and ram your esteem up walls. The perfect image of a student and friend and girlfriend and PERSON. Applications come out, every question answered honestly, truthfully, a reflection of SELF. Self? Can you use that word in a sentence? Is there a way to solve it? You’ve thrown out the files to your internal layers, not seeming important enough to pass the next big history test or worthy of the SAT prep due in a week. You can’t pass the exam in your mind testing on the ability to stay sane and make it into the college in your brain because it’s been shut down due to: inclement conditions.  Add up all of this and you get the equation of highschool and equation to pass the social barrier. Congradulations! You’ve graduated someones judgement of your self worth and now you have to define it on your own.


Self (n:) a person's essential being that distinguishes them from others.


Distinguish from others. Different? NO! Suspension has kicked you out of the brain and difference is a TOTAL reputation ruiner. You’ve spent your entire life hypothesizing the idea of NORMAL. Different is an old definition with a new sound, wanting to be sweet and free. But in reality locked in a detention classroom, waiting for it to be used openly. It’s like this: run multiple copies of the same person on the copy machine and then paste them around the school with imitating personalities and similar words. The word different doesn’t apply to this equation.


Can you even use it in a sentence?  


Can I even be used in a sentence?


-e.m
A slam I wrote for my honors English class.
JB Claywell  Feb 2017
Ruiner
JB Claywell Feb 2017
She’s a ******
ruiner.

She’ll take the
best you’ve got

and use it
to choke the
life out of anything
good.

It’s never her fault
either.

Never.

It’s life, or God,
or Karma, or even
******’ Wednesday
that gets in her way.

“Please!” she says.
“I’m under enough
pressure as it is.”

Like I’m trying to…

All I want to do
is the work.

Can’t do it,
if I’m in the same
building as
a
ruiner.

*
- JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications; 2017



If you want more, click the link:  http://www.lulu.com/shop/jay-claywell/gray-spaces-demolitions-and-other-st-joe-uprisings/paperback/product-23035217.html

Thanks.
Restivo Jun 2010
Dear *******,

          This is the hateful letter. This is the one in which I tell you how much of a ****-head you are and how I am so much better off without you, so thanks for leaving me. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. This is where I tell you that you’re an idiot if you ever thought I depended on you for my self-worth, because I don’t need you for validation, and I never have. I was trucking along just fine before you came along, and will continue to do so without you, so you can go **** yourself.
          This is the part where I call you a dumb-*** for saying all those things you said. If you weren’t trying to hurt me, you must be an idiot to think that it was a good idea to say what you did. I’ll tell you that it ****** me off to realize that you obviously didn’t know me as well as I thought you did. It ****** me off that our communication was clearly not functioning like it should have been.
          And I’ll tell you how ******* livid it makes me that you just sat there and thought and thought and ******* thought about this while I was still writing ******* poems for you. I am angry at how oblivious I was, which I also blame on you. I blame you for being so introspective and quiet, for needing to think important issues through in your head, only with yourself, before you can voice them, and I am angry because you thought and thought and ******* thought and made a decision that was logical from the inside of your head and you were confused by my reaction because, surprise! Owen’s-head-logic is not the same as Katie-is-being-broken-up-with-logic. And that’s where your speech faltered, where I stopped saying the lines that you wrote for me in your script, and that’s when all of those stupid words came tumbling out of your stupid head and things continued to not go as planned and it all eventually cumulated in this: zero contact. I know it’s not what you wanted but you’re a dumb-***. If you were smarter about it, we may still have been talking, but you said all of the exact wrong things. So I am angry at you for hurting me with your idiotic words, but I am also angry at you for pushing me away. I may have liked to still be talking to you, but all of the **** that came out of your mouth just ruined whatever chance we could have had, so way to go. You are a ruiner - and so concludes the part where everything is always your fault.
          This is the part where I understand where you’re coming from, I would have broken up with me too if I were you, I know it’s hard for you to put your words together sometimes, I know your (brutal) honesty only comes from a place of love, I know you love me, I know you miss being my friend…and so on.
          That last section makes me sadder than I am willing to be at this point, so I think I’ll stick with anger for the time being and you can **** my nonexistent ****, *******.

Your Ex-Girlfriend.
jenna Sep 2018
‘it’s possible to love her
even after all of this’
pills
needles into arms
spoons with burnt bottoms
passed out on the floor
drooling
skinny
starving
convulsing

i knew when you
lied about being over it
you were still skinny
i saw the needle marks
in the crook of your elbow
i saw the spoons
in the back of the drawer
i knew when you
made me go home so soon
your dealer was also your affair
your husband, your ex lover
your ex life, the opposite of living
you’re dying
you are dying and it is your fault
and i have run out of empathy
yes it is a disease
yes it starts as a choice
yes
you were depressed
but you still
you.

you said.

“who cares i want to die anyway
who cares i’ll ruin my body
my brain my
relationships
my life”

the hope has left your eyes

what’s it like to look up to a destroyer
what’s it like to love a broken woman
what’s it like to watch the progression
the regression
the walking backwards
one step forward but if you say
“just one more time”
it’s 5 steps back
10 steps back
20
30
the cut is deeper
the scars are darker
and you are gone.

what’s it like
to admire an addict
to be denied what you had
to be ignored
questions go unheard
“where have you been?
is everything okay?
i miss you.”

you see the inevitable
you hope it turns out different
you hope she is the one in a million
to miss a ruiner
to cry over the loss
to realize that
you distanced yourself for this exact reason

it is sickening
and you ask
“what if”
but “what if”
isn’t
“what is”
so you vow to never go down that path
so you pray you will break the cycle
so you progress
one step at a time.
to admire an addict
in my case
was to love someone who was
considered unlovable
broken
falling apart
“****”

i cannot blame myself
but that is easiest
to blame myself
for the inevitable.
JM  Apr 2013
Ruiner
JM Apr 2013
With a dry mouth and bound feet,
I ponder your undoing.
Seeing you
reduced to a quivering mass
of gellied flesh
is going to make me feel quite satisfied.


Quite satisfied indeed.

I won't be worried about who is right or wrong.
I won't be thinking of egos and consequences.

My mind is made up
and some beatings are in order.

I will have one goal and that
is to inflict pain and suffering
on you and your entire family.

Every last stinking one of you fat stupid *****.

You see, you think you know me, and you are correct. You do. You know me better than most.
You don't know this part.
You have never seen what I am capable of,
what I have done.
  
You know not the lengths of great
personal sacrifice I will endure
just to see you bleed,
*******.

I will stew
and brood
and contemplate
and daydream about
your mouth caving
under my fists.

*****.

I'm going to take
what little manhood
you have left
and completely destroy
everything left to do with it.

Nothing can save you,
my mind is made up.
You have no hope.
I don't have to wonder
if I will see you,
I will.
Be ready to bleed.
My mind is made up.
Nothing can save you.
Nik Krutilla  Oct 2012
Timer
Nik Krutilla Oct 2012
Creating
that fallacious intimacy
wrapped
arm around arm
with a nameless
body.
It's easy to get
temporary satisfaction
from it.

Even though
you're chilled
and hollow inside.

The want
of not being lonely
can be too strong.
Keeping up
the exhausting task
of costant contact.
Never really
developing
a bond deeper
than physical sedation
can tire out.

It will ash away
as soon as you move
an inch
in that position
which is holding
unstably present.
Distance
would be the ruiner
of that
shallow fantasy.

But...
to be hundreds
of miles and moments
away from someone.
To be
alone and removed
from the one
who you have
a real, unrelenting
connection with.
To know
you are singular
in that very moment
but not unsupported.

Having them
somewhere you're not,
holding onto your
spiritual thread.
To achieve real
intimate foundation
in knowing the body
doesn't have to tie you
together.
That's an ember that,
when set to breathe,
engulfs you both.

Understanding
and feeling comfort
that when surrounded
by faces
and being unknown to them
is alright.
Since
that person
who lingers in your mind
Is a whisper
off your lips
and is there
in that place you
left them.

They've penetrated inside
that fortress of caution
and self-preservation and
they get you.
They are there,
hidden
and carried with you.
With their hands
cradling and cherishing
your heart
like the treasure
it is.

The enormous responsibility.

To be
the keeper of
warmth and familiarity
and home.
Even though
being separated
from one another
you are reminded of what
exists between you.

By
concentrating and honing
in on the weight
which lives
there.
That love
and loyalty
and equal respected commitment
to take care of what
the other is given.
The total
vulnerable
surrender of
yourself.

That is something
worth wanting.
That is something
to daydream for.
That...
is what we all
crave.


*© NDHK
Sarah Daniels Feb 2016
I have all these desires
Wrecking my steady mind
To correct all that is broken
If it means ruining a life

Some of us need to be broken down
To be ripped at our very core
To be torn into a thousand pieces
And left without any hope

Some of us deserve nothing
Insurmountable tragedy till the end
I want to be the ruiner
To expel those who can’t comprehend

There is no reason for your pitiful life
If you cannot think for yourself
You are nothing and you are nobody
And no one can help

Insanity is drawn to me
By the healing energy I exude
I love with all of my heart
Like I have nothing to lose

I wish that I could shut it off??
And learn to hate and ruin
Instead I listen to all of the chatter
And give in to the illusion

There is nothing I want to heal for anyone
I rather leave it all behind
I don’t want to be what I am either
I rather watch everything die
Lyra Brown  Dec 2012
day ruiner
Lyra Brown Dec 2012
Missing the bus and
Being late for work
Is the #1 day ruiner of all time.
Cassandra Jarvie Mar 2015
I can’t draw you with words,
but the color of your eyes
can be aptly describes
with the hues of cornflower
and Persian blue.

The sketches of your laughter
cannot be drawn or seen,
but the drawers in my head
can be pulled out
and see, your smile repeats itself!

Time spent with you
will fly away in the wind
but by the lamplit flow of words
my minutes spent on you
will stick to these pages and dry into
constantly blooming memories.

So my dear,
      even when you’re far away
      bent over the nuances of a fishing hook,
      this little notebook will hold the scraps of time
      I’ve kept pressed inside
      preserving the moments like cats in formaldehyde.
It's nice to remember
Taylor Cuomo  Jun 2014
Cancer
Taylor Cuomo Jun 2014
Illness
Sickness
Disease
Lets not sugarcoat the truth

Curse
Life Ruiner
Murderer
That is more like it

Cancer had found it's way
and planted a home
Right. In. My. Mothers. Throat.

Putting a hold on her life
on my fathers
my grandmothers
my brothers
mine.

Now out of her throat
and out of her life
she struggles with recovery
and is left to pick up the pieces
this heartless, cruel, monster
has left behind.

Cancer had finally found a new home
my home

Because even when it is gone..
It is never really gone.
My mom is my inspiration and I wish things would get easier.

— The End —