Medicine-Noose
My name is Alex, I'm an Aquarius and a nervous wreck. I like cats, sleep, and drone music. They/them pronouns por favor! since they seem to matter much these days))).. / my poems are oftentimes vent-stuff, mostly relating to personal problems and existential beliefs (or lack thereof). I write best when I'm in a bad spot emotionally.
Though it swallows our friends, the grave never speaks
And our voices can’t reach them now; they’re buried too far down
It’s difficult to imagine how dark it is for you, I guess this was something you had to go through
What’s it like, being free? Is it like a dream?
You never liked the noise, the ruckus and all the ploys
I guess you got what you always wanted, though it all seems haunted
This world seems a little darker to me too, of my cold grave it’s a little preview
Your memory will die now that you’re gone, inevitable like the going of dawn
This journey without you, I wonder if it even matters whether I do
The birds sing as before, I see when I’m gone there’ll be no uproar
With you in silence, to the earth I return and bring some balance
As it was so it will be, a life is gone and gives another its key
This life is pointless as can be, but it defines our eternity
Soon silence comes and we leave this place, so toil for the next and for this grace
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 12:58 PM UTC
Roll around in a field of dandelions and **** on everything she loves, I wish for the sky to consume thou, up my eyes, nose, and waist
Swallow fur
Swallow fur
Swallow fur
The scents of Fritos
Melanin and lead paint
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 11:41 AM UTC
desu desu desu desu
I'm here wearing a white suit, to shove socks in my ears
Stuff me in a dark box away from ******* everyone and let me cry like a helpless child stuck in the snow on December
Dark fantasies of computer hacks in a whore's cellular phone,
that Christ exposed
that virgins read black and blue
Who loves sniffing tall men's necks and blabbering about every line of thought in what she calls a brain
burn Brittany Hunt, a ****
Whose who
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC
You're a pumice stone, she's a pile of gray soil.
You only wanted all of us to be okay
For everything to be okay
She wanted us dead.
Yet she calls you a friend.
You look at her as only as a pencil drawing,
just not as *****
Not enough do.
She's nothing.
She's got a face full of makeup, a mouth layered with fat, and a mind full of ****
But you're better than that
You don't deserve her
You're better than her.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
Foggy weather blues
Allergies cause me to sneeze
Dead leaves and damp grass
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
Passing cars of noise,
The onlookers, judging me,
My headache, myself.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
That I **** up at too many things I try to help,
that I make problems worse than they already are,
I procrastinate on work,
just to spend my evening crying and ************
When I can do things, it's of mediocre quality
I can only handle things "barely enough".
Dear anyone that tolerates me,
I'm sorry.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
My roadkilled cat friend occassionally comes back to me in my sleep complaining about being sick after ingesting gasoline from the guts of the car that beheaded him. You ain't seen **** until you've waded through a marsh of blood in escape of the suburb that just blew up 11 miles away from the woods THEY kidnapped you in, New Orleans Jazz songs on repeat during the storm drain drug deal. Don't forget throwing up all over that expensive platter of rotting meat, while getting bent over and ****** in both your holes by some tall intersex sociopath. Maybe I shouldn't have let those harpies follow me through the maze, all the way home. I'm a waste of human flesh.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:30 PM UTC
We all know the cracks between them are temporary, from downing a handful of happy-candy and flowers with a swig of chamomile tea, how only closing their eyes softly and the paralyzation of their body, pulling them and their body down the rings of Saturn can aliviate the scent of their own fear fighting WW2 in their veins, and the sound of humming from the television with a shattered screen... or what we call the voices of people in a large, congested crowd.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:06 PM UTC