Air.
Earth.
Home.
Laundry soap.
Thin aura of cleaning supplies.
Faint stench of the fancy life.
Of a higher power.
Of a higher division in the levels of Society.
Distant expenses of cologne and purfume.
But mostly the aura of cleaning supplies.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
why is every love song less annoying and repetitive now that i've met you?
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
accusation after accusation
about cheating and lying
is like the crossfire on a battlefield.
why is it that you and mom have to fight to communicate?
why is it that yelling to the point of a scratchy throat is your guys' goto to get a point across?
why does it always have to be a constant whirlwind of chaotic rounds of gunfire for you guys?
i don't know why you thought that abandoning us was the clearest thought in your clouded mind.
not just abandoning us for some other woman who was never worth the time,
but abandoning a wife who supported and loved you, for a woman who was less than a speck of dirt.
but also abandoning three kids who considered you as the other parent they no longer had, for a woman who couldn't see her own four kids because she would rather be including methamphetamines and other drugs in her life than her own offspring.
you abandoned us for a woman who made the fight for drugs, rather than the kids she gave life to.
there was a family you had left behind and kept waiting,
while you organized a mess of a life with someone else.
all i can say is how could you give up the life you built with us,
and damage it with her.
how could you make us flip our feelings for you?
i sat with my mother in front of the apartment you were staying at, at 10:45 after my shift at 10:00 at night.
waiting for you to take your dog because we aren't his caretakers.
yes, we loved him,
but that was your responsibility and we weren't going to take it anymore.
but as i go to knock on the window of your room because the door is too far away from your apartment number,
there are night owls of drug addicts peering through the window curtains.
but not answering the door.
i hate you so much when i should love you.
you were our parent when our father died.
but you left us the same way our father did.
the only difference is that you didn't die.
you left the same way he did because drugs stripped you both from us.
only that you didn't die.
not physically anyway.
just mentally, you're dead to us.
once a drug addict, always a drug addict huh.
i guess this taught us never to trust so easily.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
when did MY education
become more important than supporting those who died.
from those who took a bullet.
and lost their lives
to save others.
when did MY education
become more important than doing something about gun violence.
from anyone who died
for those
who lived.
when did MY education
become more important than the real issues
that cause this whirlwind of a country
to fall apart at its own feet.
when did MY education
start to become more important
than checking more carefully for those who hold barrels against someone's head
and pull the ******* trigger.
MY education is not about if i know how to solve slope formula's
but knowing the difference between logic and knowledge
between right and wrong
between peace and war.
so
instead of understanding the complete differences between peace and war
this country uses war to claim it's for peace.
this country confuses two polar opposites to somehow be useful for the other.
this country confuses right and wrong with whatever kind of leader it has.
violence is sorely mistaken as a solution for peace.
there is no logic.
there is no knowledge.
there is only lack of education
to the violence we create
as a nation.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
maybe if i wrote with all lowercase letters
my poetry would seem more appealing.
shorter descriptions
and longer titles.
more relatable with a deeper meaning
because there isn't proper grammar involved.
just proper spelling.
no commas
just
period
.
.
.
after
period
.
.
.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 3:13 PM UTC
with you, i am unstoppable.
with us, we are invincible against all odds.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
I know.
I look like some sleezy, 17 year old in a pencil skirt. Located behind a movie theatre concessions stand.
I know I look like a girl, who's only here to 'dress to impress'.
I understand you know what I mean when I say that.
I can see that hateful gleam in your eye when you look at any 17 year old female employee at a movie theatre.
But I know that every hateful gleam is different and the one you give me is beyond hatred.
You must think that I'm dressing out of my way, to snag a guy or two and you're afraid that your boyfriend is one of my targets.
He knows how to cover up his hatred.
But because of my short, shaggy, haircut, he must think that I'm dressing out of my way to snag a girl or two. And he's afraid that his girlfriend is one of my targets.
The thing is, I wasn't 'dressing to impress'.
I wasn't 'dressing out of my way' to snag you and your boyfriend into a little **** trap of mine.
If I was dressing to impress anybody, it would be the person standing behind me.
Wondering what's up my skirt and between my thighs and if they could just have one little taste.
And I wouldn't even complain because I've been wondering what they've got. So I have just as much of a guilty pleasure for them, as they do for me.
But because I wear a tight skirt that defines my hips, doesn't mean I want your boyfriend to unzip it, open it up to take me from behind.
And because I wear button up blouses, doesn't mean that I want your husband to eagerly watch me unbutton it to reveal black lace that can be torn off my body and have him violate me in ways I've never felt before.
Just because I dress accordingly and test out whether or not my clothing choices are appropriate for the dress attire for my job, doesn't mean I am some sleezy, 17 year old, theatre employee, *****
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
Meditate.
Breathe in,
Breathe out,
Relax.
.....
How easy is it to meditate?
How can it be that easy to calm down all the atoms in your body?
How is it so easy for you to not want to touch every molecule that moves differently than all the others?
To calm down Avogadro's Number,
to the steadiness of your breathing, and the low bass of your heartbeat.
.....
Taking in the sound of crickets chirping,
even though you comprehend on a whole new level of understanding that you absolutely hate that sound.
.....
Instead of erasing, you cross things out because you now all too well how much of a perfectionist you are with a completely blank canvas.
.....
You don't like the way your hand shakes with anticipation when you feel that spark of inspiration to write.
You're just so eager to tell everything that doesn't make sense in an antique notebook.
Just until you get to the bottom of the page.
Hesitant to turn the page because you don't quite know if you want to keep writing your nonsense pieces of art.
You don't quite know if your inspirations of originality disappeared for vacation,
Or if it's attempting to find a new ****** expression to wow it's crowd.
But you're only trying to fill in spaces,
Not with just words that oddly mean something to you,
But to get your point across.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC