It's ******* 3 in the ****** morning,
a twisted mind trying to write,
the most flawed paper known to man.
While the well established sleep,
so somberly on their egyptian silk sheets.
I want to rip these sleeper's vocal chords out,
so that in the morning,
only my voice will be heard.
In this perfect ******* paper,
with it's perfect ******* footnotes
and its not so perfect creator,
hopped up on caffeine,
ready to be the perfect ******* innovator,
of another person's ****** ideas.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
Why does it feel so excruciating?
In the middle of the night.
I've already taken flight, but can't seem to stop looking back.
What is going on?
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
Romance is dead,
love has fled,
lust is just,
hate creates;
these lonely souls
that take the melancholy stroll.
Our hearts in a turmoil,
what do we do with these echoes
that growls and grumbles?
In the early morning wisps of smoke,
those endearing midnight strokes.
Where we find ourselves;
alone, drinking out of the bliss canteen.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 3:35 AM UTC
The white on the vanilla is off;
as if the brown got ****** out of the chocolate.
You leave me with a bitter aftertaste;
yet, I want you even more.
Although you think you know;
I'd like to bet you don't.
I'm a little off,
in case you haven't noticed.
Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
dim the lights,
because you know this is the night
that despite our differences.
we'll make things alright.
it'll be nice.
we can make love to the moonlight!
but we can't do that,
till you dim the ******* lights.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 11:03 PM UTC