I've thought of records and audio files,
Where my voice trails on awkwardly enough,
For me to flinch hard as I listen to
All the silly problems that I wish to
Address in my teenage years, because soon
I'll forget myself, I'll forget my youth
And frankly? I ain't ready for those sad,
Sad twenties and the lonely apartments -
If only I had that audio file -
I'd pour my feelings out, let them go like
Water from a beat down dam heading for
The ocean, that water calls me now and
Its soft hum brings me down to Earth, but my
Stupid feelings are still screaming they're still
Deeply buried in the sand and the ground
It shakes with each unspoken thought I've yet
To let out, but if someone doesn't bring
A shovel, I might as well keep shaking
'Til I stop hating the sound of my own **** voice.
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC
If only I knew
How your laughter sounds like
How your hands fit in mine
How your kiss lingers on
Then maybe I'd know
If I'm really in love.
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
An idiot's insides deserve a checkup
The doctor's baffled, the patients rise up
They huddle close and gasp quite loud
Inside his head there's a little cloud
A puff of smoke dances around
And quickly sinks to the white tiled ground
Is it escaping? But God, where to?
Should we be chasing? Oh God, what do?
The doctor shouts, the patients cry
The idiot can't help but release a sigh
His happy thoughts and simple dreams
Have gone up with smoke so it sadly seems
Just God forbid they give him a brain
Everyone knows that it causes so much pain
Just let him rest, just let him think
Of happy clouds and candy that's pink
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
"I'm sick of poems about love
How many times do I have to see
Another titled 'Him' or 'Her'?
Why does everything have to be about that one and only 'You'?"
It's a public statement then:
"Love is overrated, everyone go home
And stop writing those sad letters to forgotten lovers"
- a Tired Girl From Under Her Bed Who Never Experienced What Love Is
Bitter about the whole world
And fed up with her own poetry
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
Racing steps
Racing heart,
Racing eyes
Racing body
Fast-paced, Step by step
Bursting through
Out the ribs
Out the cage
Out the door
Out the room
Calm down, Bathroom sink
Makes no sound
Stop the noise
Stop the mind
Stop the fear
Stop the sweat
Too hot, for those clothes
It's confirmed
Panic in
Panic out
Panic then
Panic now
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
I carved a hole at the side of my head
With nubby fingernails
Now all my thoughts trickle out
Slowly but surely
And my head is getting lighter
With each passing second
Funny thing is
I can't seem to remember
The title of this poem
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 11:12 AM UTC
I've been thinking a lot these days
I've been thinking about a button
In my head
That would stop all the thinking
Until there is nothing
But the silent hum of the night
Because the more I think
The closer I am to the truth
That sends bullets through my head
That sends daggers to my heart
If only the pain left with the sound
Of noisy cars passing by
I press the button
I press it - now
The noise stops -
Immediately
Suddenly
Brutally
But for how long?
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
Someone painted the altar green
The culprit remains unseen
But I swear, sisters, brothers;
I'll cease the weeping of your mothers
And slice that villain clean and quick
On our wall his corpse will stick
For the Lord gave me the power
To protect those who cower
Away from Satan's servants and friends
Don't worry, they are too late to make amends
We can't help that vandal abandon his evil ways
Next thing you know he'll set our church ablaze
So what do you say, sisters, brothers?
He made our altar unlike the others
Now it's our turn to make it clean
And rid the world of all paint that's green
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC