tonight im unhappy.
just like last night.
just like tomorrow night.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 3:53 AM UTC
if you can't sleep,
then you cant dream.
if you cant dream,
then what's life mean?
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
i write poetry about you
for strangers to read,
they say you're an *******
they say i'm in need;
of something that counts
of someone who's different.
so next time you touch me,
these strangers can hear.
baby, one day,
you'll see,
you'll be cowered in fear.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 7:26 AM UTC
you had a green thumb,
planting rose after rose.
but when you grew bored,
a tulip would show.
her stem was too short,
her smell did grow hazy
so not long after that,
you planted this daisy.
I thought I was special,
I thought I was yours.
until I saw you water
that daffodil *****
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
what strange illusion it is to believe beauty is goodness
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
they would rather see
two men holding guns
than
hands.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
deeper meaning, over thinking, poetry really does give a beating.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
blue.
it is the color that always fades inside
of you.
it's the wind ******* the globe.
it's the color of your son when he decides to leave home,
it is the taste of the morning air, even when you
wish it weren't;
(especially then.)
blue is the color of past lovers eyes
because those blue ones always say
good-bye.
blue is one deep breath and a handful of doubt,
blue is for people you've learned to do without.
it's under your eyes when you find
yourself lost in your mind,
searching for another color wheel to climb.
colors don't share, but that's okay.
because blue is the color that always fades.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
I once was so much socio
I had a list and ratio
My mind did swarm
With ****** mass
Of who could be
The first to pass.
A lover,
A cheater,
A drunk old wife beater;
Oh,
Only then
Did I realize
I was first on
my list to die.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
when i was 10,
my father said,
"i'll walk the aisle when you wed. "
when i was 12,
my father unfurled,
"you're dead to me if you like girls."
when i was 14,
my father cried,
"slit those wrists, say goodbye."
when i was 15,
my father did grieve,
"pick up your bags, i need you to leave."
now at 16,
my father is silent.
my home is too far,
my wrists are still violent.
my family is none,
my bones have grown weary.
life's closing my door;
deaths locking the windows,
im trapped in a shell
of homosexual innuendos.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC