Non-sensible ********
I compose myself thusly
An anorexic cool kid
With joints quite rusty
With a lack of tread
I was out of control
No point in being dead
When you already dug the hole
My eyes start to sag
I'm tired of the constant confirmation
That your boyfriends a ***
Oh I can't say that can I?
It's a hot button issue
Cry all you want
But I won't give you a tissue
Not that I don't want to
I'm simply all out
I used them all
You know what it's about
Copious amounts of drugs
And a crap ton of ****
I'm so freaking wasted
This chick feels like a dude
Wait, I'm not even high
I'm inside my head
Cause I took one sip of rye
All those psa's said I was gonna die
Such a surprise if the school told a lie
I'm a total cliche
A stereotype if I may
From a culture of fear
Kids scared to be gay
We're all going through changes
In a ****** up way
My voice just got deeper
You still don't listen what I say
I talk too much
I say too little
You're completely ********
But let's keep this civil
-Xav
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 7:50 PM UTC
You saw me
What the hell was up with that
That feeling in my stomach
I told my dad I'd hit the sack
But I got locked on my bed
Painted my arm black
Because it covers red
See being bored is just my knack
Stereotypical, I know
See I had nowhere else to go
So I sat there and wrote
Row after row
A compilation of mental blows
See I never told her
But finally she knows
They tell me to begin again
To win again
But I'm here to show these kids
That breaking rules is ******* cool again
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
think
contract
burn
fuse
bound
creator
burn
fuse
silence
shatter
burn
fuse
observe
teach
burn
fuse
trick
escape
burn
fuse
love
reason
burn
fuse
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
Nothing you write
is yours alone
every word
borrowed
on loan
only from you
comes some wit
to decide the order
in which they are writ
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
I like that feeling
A pulsing warmth
That gives me meaning
Left to flutter all alone
Even whilst with friends
It's the only place I go
As the smoke leaves the pipe
As I give another joint
Another light
Life seems happy
That bubble sound brings a tear to my eye
A room so foggy
It makes you cry
Goodbye
...
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
Playing in the the summertime air
Placed our minds at ease
While our imaginations made a scene
Swinging in the breezy
Smiling and laughing so gleefully
Oh the silly games we use to play
Hide and seek until we couldn't see
Scrapped knees and bee stings
Made me sing mom please help me
Sitting outside in the summertime air
Makes me my mind uneasy
While my imagination screams please
Let me see my computer screen
Anxious to see my apps dance so playfully
I hold back my tears so painfully
I can't see why my parents hate me
They don't buy me anything
No matter how much I scream help me
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 3:33 PM UTC
Not that all poems have to rhyme
It takes some effort
And a lot of time
No need to ref it
No offence to you
I can't enjoy the poem
Not because of what you do
But your effort seems to moan
weird.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 3:30 PM UTC
I strum
I barely speak
I'm not dumb
I like to peak
I wanna come back
I over stayed my welcome
I cause an environmental attack
I have a few problems
I miss the goatee cat
I wish you luck
I miss the one too
I have feelings in a muck
I miss the color blue
Sorry.
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
It's where I sit
Between the bases
I'm always high
And full of directional changes.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 11:59 PM UTC
When you’re violently scared to disrespect thee
The one, the only, “Old Hickory”
You toughen up
And join the cause
To defeat those who have broken
Forbidden laws
He continued to recruit
A group that he could steer
Most of these fearless men
Joined outta fear
We marched to New Orleans
The odds are 1 to 3
But the British had disrespected
Thee “Old Hickory”
We won that day
After we set the sky ablaze
It makes me really miss
The “Old Hickory” days.
We started the march back to Tennessee
We had plans
To celebrate our victory
Through a land
Shrouded in mystery
We faced many trials
On our journey home
But never once
Did we bicker or moan
We made it through dangerous territory
It was a sight to see
By the leadership
Of “Old Hickory”
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC