RebeccaAnn
42/F/Houston
Just a girl that reads a lot of books and loves to write words. My prized possession used to be a ship named Censor, but Jack Dorsey stole it from me. I like to use profanity sometimes because it's fun. Enjoy! https://www.instagram.com/miss_rebecca_ann/
A gregarious culture
connected to a stream,
an electric herding
of mediocre self esteems.
A network of fringe
for the modern conformity.
A new breed of introverts
plugging antisocial irony.
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 12:03 PM UTC
The Queen of Hearts
makes her move,
adrenaline chess
to construe.
The enzymes melt
her painted frown,
with head held high
she adjusts her crown
She remembered who
she once was,
anticipating
breathless pause.
Around the King
her fingers grasp
to set him on
the Bishop's path.
And by her hand
he meets his fate
he is no more
by her, "checkmate".
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 1:52 PM UTC
The country can live
the king is now dead.
The rebellion exchanged
a crown for his head
The guillotine answered
the blade was released,
but third law prevails,
as actions repeat.
The uprising's father
was next on the list
for it to continue
for it to persist.
A revolution can die
when they eat their own.
Sir Isaac was precise.
Robespierre should've known.
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 9:03 AM UTC
My body causes
a chemical reaction,
with the help from
the laws of attraction.
I store a nectar
my pheromones release,
it serves a delicious
butterfly feed.
Oxytocin
is what it's called,
in my belly is
where it’s installed.
The butterflies swarm
when oxytocin’s produced.
They come to digest
the catalytic juice.
Flipping and turning
eating ravenously,
filling me with bliss
a divine ecstasy.
There is no other feeling
that I can compare,
when the butterflies dine
from my stomach lair.
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 8:05 AM UTC
Trust is an illusion,
a complex metaphor,
that blankets insecurities
with the closing of a door.
Trust is just perspective,
of wanting to believe.
The power of our thoughts
can be easily deceived.
Trust can evolve.
It never stays the same.
It falls in and out of favor,
from the relationships you gain.
I only trust myself.
I can see my own self through.
Nobody has my back
quite the way I do.
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 11:23 PM UTC
Break a leg everyone!
The show’s about to start!
The scripts have been rehearsed!
Everyone should know their part!
The curtains will disjoint
under the spotlight’s glare,
while the audience awaits
in the elevated chairs.
The performance was electric!
An Emmy worthy play!
They bought it line and sinker
much to their dismay.
You showed them conflict
and fed them fairy tales.
An epic distraction
for dramatic ticket sales.
The crowd will pick a side
and it will resonate,
cognitive dissonance
for us to captivate.
There is no left or right
in this theatrical brigade.
Self-serving is our mission.
We are one and the same.
And they will never know.
And will never ask us how.
Because the show is finally over
as we take our final bow.
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 12:20 PM UTC
I cursed the moon that day.
I cursed the moon that day.
Nothing’s been the same,
since you’ve gone away.
I cursed the moon that day.
I shunned the stars for you.
I shunned the stars for you.
For they won’t last,
they’ll fade out too.
I shunned the stars for you.
I cloaked myself in night.
I cloaked myself in night.
Bathed in darkness,
I’ll never see light.
I cloaked myself in night.
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 5:52 PM UTC
Orwellian madness
became fashionably late,
thirty six years
from the original date.
Fiction is front page
and truth is just a stranger.
A platform subscription
with prevaricator entertainers.
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 8:09 PM UTC
The witch is dead?
Can this be?
My sister is gone,
so why am I happy?
Am I the wicked
and not the good?
Are these feelings I'm feeling
to be understood?
If the wicked do not rest
will she find her peace?
Did the evil she possess
get passed on to me?
There's a smile on my face
to mask my pain.
I will mirror the Munchins
celebration in vain.
"Ding **** They cheer
parading down the road,
celebrating Dorothy
and her little dog, Toto.
She murdered my sibling
by her twisting home.
She came from Kansas
a place unknown.
Who is the child,
that is getting applause?
A demon to destroy
the Witches of Oz?
I need to send her back
with a simple spell,
back to Kansas;
back to hell.
I may be the next witch
on her list,
to eradicate
with a house that twists.
The Emerald wizard will answer her call.
For there’s no place like home, after all.
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 8:06 AM UTC
Go ask Alice in her padded cell
how she took a tumble and fell
down a rabbit hole of illusion
now don’s a straight-jacket of confusion.
Go ask Alice with her veins full of Lithium
how she surrendered to her delirium
of smoking caterpillars and a
grinning feline,
now attached to an Intravenous mainline.
Go ask Alice about her sanity
how it vanished in this asylum of rhapsody
in a fog that is translucent and hypnotic
in her Wonderland of painted narcotics.
Nov 12, 2020
Nov 12, 2020 at 6:48 AM UTC