Bland_Potato_Chip - Hello Poetry

Tick-tock On the clock What's the time? If you like Piña Colodas And getting drunk in the rain If you're not into yoga If you have half a brain If you like making love at midnight How does the rest go? This is silly Get me out of here Get me out of here Out of here What else? Now what? I dunno I'm just rereading what I've already written I'm cold That's better If you like making love at midnight Tapioca Wham bam thank you ma'am I wonder if anyone ever reads this far I wouldn't I get bored too easily Most of these thoughts start with I Which is sort of narcissistic, isn't it? Self-centered But it's my own mind, and I would rather say I than you Because you makes me feel like I'm someone else looking in You make me feel like I'm someone else I miss you We haven't talked in a long time And I know it's my fault And I know you miss me too But every now and then it hits me Like you were always supposed to be my person Even that is silly I don't know why I ever thought something like that And now I'm writing about you I wonder if you would like that Or if you'd write it off and look at me with those eyes The thought scares me I loved you I really do think you were the first one I mean, it's not like there weren't people before you But no one ever made me feel like this for this long I normally show no remorse It's an awful habit I miss you I miss you a lot I'm tired And kind of cold still Whatever This is so weird It's like I can't even form thoughts normally because I'm writing, or, I guess, typing them down So I guess if I post this it'll be as vulnerable as it gets, huh? I mean, no one else can dictate what I say in my mind And it's up to me to use my thoughts carefully I don't know I mean, what's the harm, really?

0

Jan 18

Jan 18, 2026 at 10:57 PM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

Stream of Consciousness

Tick-tock On the clock What's the time? If you like Piña Colodas And getting drunk in the rain If you're not into yoga If you have half a brain If you like making love at midnight How does the rest go? This is silly Get me out of here Get me out of here Out of here What else? Now what? I dunno I'm just rereading what I've already written I'm cold That's better If you like making love at midnight Tapioca Wham bam thank you ma'am I wonder if anyone ever reads this far I wouldn't I get bored too easily Most of these thoughts start with I Which is sort of narcissistic, isn't it? Self-centered But it's my own mind, and I would rather say I than you Because you makes me feel like I'm someone else looking in You make me feel like I'm someone else I miss you We haven't talked in a long time And I know it's my fault And I know you miss me too But every now and then it hits me Like you were always supposed to be my person Even that is silly I don't know why I ever thought something like that And now I'm writing about you I wonder if you would like that Or if you'd write it off and look at me with those eyes The thought scares me I loved you I really do think you were the first one I mean, it's not like there weren't people before you But no one ever made me feel like this for this long I normally show no remorse It's an awful habit I miss you I miss you a lot I'm tired And kind of cold still Whatever This is so weird It's like I can't even form thoughts normally because I'm writing, or, I guess, typing them down So I guess if I post this it'll be as vulnerable as it gets, huh? I mean, no one else can dictate what I say in my mind And it's up to me to use my thoughts carefully I don't know I mean, what's the harm, really?

61

I stand still. Legs give. Hands shake. Someone is leading me into a crowded hallway. I just want to go home; I just want to feel at home. Is it a person? The doors blur by. Is it brown eyes? A laugh I hate? Pale skin? A voice I hallucinate? Is it blue eyes? Trust? History? Half-awake truths? A lifetime guarantee? Is it age? Wrinkles? A parochial comment? Gifts? Expectations? Is it my childhood house? My current house? Is it the mountains? The city? Is it real? Tangible? Obtainable? Is it comfort? Contentment? Is it love? Lost? Gone? Is it him? Her? Me? Am I home; am I home?

0

Oct 9, 2024

Oct 9, 2024 at 10:25 PM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

Uphill Climb

I stand still. Legs give. Hands shake. Someone is leading me into a crowded hallway. I just want to go home; I just want to feel at home. Is it a person? The doors blur by. Is it brown eyes? A laugh I hate? Pale skin? A voice I hallucinate? Is it blue eyes? Trust? History? Half-awake truths? A lifetime guarantee? Is it age? Wrinkles? A parochial comment? Gifts? Expectations? Is it my childhood house? My current house? Is it the mountains? The city? Is it real? Tangible? Obtainable? Is it comfort? Contentment? Is it love? Lost? Gone? Is it him? Her? Me? Am I home; am I home?

15

Iridescent, black-iron fence Clay dust Hesitant spider's web, pulled by the wind Charred oak Rotted, frayed, abandoned mutt harness Trepidant cool beneath the shade Ivory paper glowing in a sun's generous exposure Retired stadium lights; a boundary Shards of stained glass Vile, buzzing flies (can't they be hungry, too?) Pale half-moon, unforgiving hard earth Serrations of grass A thousand neon leaves Inescapable chill Pair of house wrens, tumbling to the dirt hastening away before a greeting can be uttered Cross-hatch benches; no spectators Simple plucked clover Asymmetrical gate Impatient pen tapping Barking dog Pretty boy sitting alone: are you as curious as I am? I wander, fumbling my skin against anything that might give When did this start to fade? Why can I only find it on assignment? I lose the senses I had as a child, to be replaced with this cursed apathy I can't shake The dog barks again Can they feel it, too? "45, good play." "Alright guys, let's head back." But the mineral clay persists in the grooves of my skin just as it does in the fibers of this page Who can take that away? Writing is immortalizing, so let me keep this filth; let me absorb it, and maybe it will find its way back to where I've wanted to be for so long

0

Jul 3, 2024

Jul 3, 2024 at 3:15 AM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

Adapt

Iridescent, black-iron fence Clay dust Hesitant spider's web, pulled by the wind Charred oak Rotted, frayed, abandoned mutt harness Trepidant cool beneath the shade Ivory paper glowing in a sun's generous exposure Retired stadium lights; a boundary Shards of stained glass Vile, buzzing flies (can't they be hungry, too?) Pale half-moon, unforgiving hard earth Serrations of grass A thousand neon leaves Inescapable chill Pair of house wrens, tumbling to the dirt hastening away before a greeting can be uttered Cross-hatch benches; no spectators Simple plucked clover Asymmetrical gate Impatient pen tapping Barking dog Pretty boy sitting alone: are you as curious as I am? I wander, fumbling my skin against anything that might give When did this start to fade? Why can I only find it on assignment? I lose the senses I had as a child, to be replaced with this cursed apathy I can't shake The dog barks again Can they feel it, too? "45, good play." "Alright guys, let's head back." But the mineral clay persists in the grooves of my skin just as it does in the fibers of this page Who can take that away? Writing is immortalizing, so let me keep this filth; let me absorb it, and maybe it will find its way back to where I've wanted to be for so long

42

I wish I could explain away my feelings to you, but they're trapped inside this maze and every turn is a dead-end that leads to another, the sunlight fades to shroud the ground in something I can't understand and I'm sorry I can't find my way back out, I'm sorry I can't find the center; the heart, it's surrounded by briars and the thicket grows thicker the longer we wander and I catch a glimpse of the iron gate in the moonlight and your sorrow follows me straight back into the labyrinth

0

Feb 18, 2024

Feb 18, 2024 at 11:32 PM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

Circumnavigate

I wish I could explain away my feelings to you, but they're trapped inside this maze and every turn is a dead-end that leads to another, the sunlight fades to shroud the ground in something I can't understand and I'm sorry I can't find my way back out, I'm sorry I can't find the center; the heart, it's surrounded by briars and the thicket grows thicker the longer we wander and I catch a glimpse of the iron gate in the moonlight and your sorrow follows me straight back into the labyrinth

5

I wonder if he understands that he doesn't just cross my mind, but instead runs laps around the inside.

0

Nov 19, 2023

Nov 19, 2023 at 9:13 PM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

Marathon

I wonder if he understands that he doesn't just cross my mind, but instead runs laps around the inside.

1

Life is hard and it’s rough, if you’re Christian that’s ***** I’ll be sentenced to hell ‘fore I pass Religious History My actions are sins, so I’m forced to behave Yeah, if my Dad heard this he’d roll over in his grave My girl friends must be lovers, call in the saints The teachers send home a list of complaints “They were caught selling care and a recharged new vape” Yeah, the stalls don’t lock so I couldn’t escape And the graffiti is beautiful cause it can’t be erased Rap by a girl must be a ****** crime Guess I’ll have to call it Shakespearean rhyme “Shut your mouth ***** you’re better off as a mime” If there’s a wait for your opinion then I’ll burn down the line Click on the ad for my astronomical sign Hear about my future for a 1,000,000.99 Look for good music but oh wait, it’s AI People on YouTube apologize and cry “I didn’t groom minors, no, sorry, that’s a lie” 21 is still the legal age to drink Kids at 18 in the army were thrown in the clink 3 years of difference between drunk and drowning, Deep into misery the children will sink The Government was built to work for me But my food and water comes with a fee You can't work until you're sixteen Then how will the kids that are homeless eat? History classes are taught to repeat

0

Nov 8, 2023

Nov 8, 2023 at 12:06 AM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

State of the Nation

Life is hard and it’s rough, if you’re Christian that’s ***** I’ll be sentenced to hell ‘fore I pass Religious History My actions are sins, so I’m forced to behave Yeah, if my Dad heard this he’d roll over in his grave My girl friends must be lovers, call in the saints The teachers send home a list of complaints “They were caught selling care and a recharged new vape” Yeah, the stalls don’t lock so I couldn’t escape And the graffiti is beautiful cause it can’t be erased Rap by a girl must be a ****** crime Guess I’ll have to call it Shakespearean rhyme “Shut your mouth ***** you’re better off as a mime” If there’s a wait for your opinion then I’ll burn down the line Click on the ad for my astronomical sign Hear about my future for a 1,000,000.99 Look for good music but oh wait, it’s AI People on YouTube apologize and cry “I didn’t groom minors, no, sorry, that’s a lie” 21 is still the legal age to drink Kids at 18 in the army were thrown in the clink 3 years of difference between drunk and drowning, Deep into misery the children will sink The Government was built to work for me But my food and water comes with a fee You can't work until you're sixteen Then how will the kids that are homeless eat? History classes are taught to repeat

27

Growing up, you would fall in love with whoever sat to your left. I sat beside the window, so I fell in love with the world, instead.

0

Oct 18, 2023

Oct 18, 2023 at 8:52 PM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

To The Left

Growing up, you would fall in love with whoever sat to your left. I sat beside the window, so I fell in love with the world, instead.

2

my heart’s so fragile; i’m afraid to give it away, all that’s left of me is a sarcastic personality, and even that is starting to fade.

0

Bland_Potato_Chip

Jul 31, 2023

Jul 31, 2023 at 10:30 PM UTC

deemz

fragile

my heart’s so fragile; i’m afraid to give it away, all that’s left of me is a sarcastic personality, and even that is starting to fade.

6

When did solitude become a weakness? Are people so similar to wolves that a pack is mandatory to be appreciated? I'm not a lone wolf. I'm a lone sheep. Noticed by the herd and attempted to be wrangled in but always straying regardless. You can send your sheepdog at me to nip at my heels until I come running back but I will always drift away again.

0

Jul 20, 2023

Jul 20, 2023 at 1:22 AM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

Alone is not Lonely

When did solitude become a weakness? Are people so similar to wolves that a pack is mandatory to be appreciated? I'm not a lone wolf. I'm a lone sheep. Noticed by the herd and attempted to be wrangled in but always straying regardless. You can send your sheepdog at me to nip at my heels until I come running back but I will always drift away again.

6

There was an old, wooden bed frame. Sturdy, faded, and carved with spirals that chipped away through time. It was held by 4 posts. It steadied the slumber of generations of dreamers. Old lovers that spent their nights curled within each other, waiting for the worst of a storm to pass. Their safety was incubated through the deafening waves of nature. Young lovers who struggled against poverty and desperation, striving to make ends meet. They allowed themselves to give each other reassurance. Children who were naive but happy, battling their bedtimes with restless kicking and giggling, despite their exhaustion. They grew, and soon there was only room for one at a time. A teenage son drowning his thoughts in music, battling his demons as his youth was escaping. His fears grew too large to be contained in a bed frame. A teenage daughter healing her past transgressions, collapsing into the bed and pleading for her past to stop chasing her. Her mind was focusing on understanding the future. She tossed the old bed frame out, and was given an iron one to replace it. The old, wooden bed frame squeaked when you sat on it. It was stained. It was worn down. There were scars on the wood. Nails stuck out from under the original baseboards. There were scars on the wood. There were scars on the wood, and the wood was scarred, and so was everyone who ever laid in it. There was an old, wooden bed frame, that was bought brand new. Now, there are scars in the wood.

0

Jun 16, 2023

Jun 16, 2023 at 10:51 PM UTC

Bland_Potato_Chip

Sweet Dreams

There was an old, wooden bed frame. Sturdy, faded, and carved with spirals that chipped away through time. It was held by 4 posts. It steadied the slumber of generations of dreamers. Old lovers that spent their nights curled within each other, waiting for the worst of a storm to pass. Their safety was incubated through the deafening waves of nature. Young lovers who struggled against poverty and desperation, striving to make ends meet. They allowed themselves to give each other reassurance. Children who were naive but happy, battling their bedtimes with restless kicking and giggling, despite their exhaustion. They grew, and soon there was only room for one at a time. A teenage son drowning his thoughts in music, battling his demons as his youth was escaping. His fears grew too large to be contained in a bed frame. A teenage daughter healing her past transgressions, collapsing into the bed and pleading for her past to stop chasing her. Her mind was focusing on understanding the future. She tossed the old bed frame out, and was given an iron one to replace it. The old, wooden bed frame squeaked when you sat on it. It was stained. It was worn down. There were scars on the wood. Nails stuck out from under the original baseboards. There were scars on the wood. There were scars on the wood, and the wood was scarred, and so was everyone who ever laid in it. There was an old, wooden bed frame, that was bought brand new. Now, there are scars in the wood.

13