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robs_happy_writings
robs_happy_writings
24/M/Amsterdam I wear Hawaii shirts, or black t-shirts. Sometimes shirts with dumb prints on them. White sneakers mostly, but sometimes brown or black boots.
Put me in your mouth And in the name of freedom Pull my trigger, boy. I am the persistent gnawing Inside your hideous skull The barrel of your dreams. The iron bringer of death Defender of the weak; But innocents beware! Killer of cats and dogs alike A tool for the robbers, Thieves and murderers, too. But for you, nothing more Than a romanticized ending, I promise. Now pull my trigger, baby.
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Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 9:10 AM UTC
GAY GUN
We swam under dusk                   Faces lit by moonlight Scavenging for scars                   So bountiful they are. I lost you in the coral Guarded by ***** – threatening with Their huge claws. Eels flashing rows of white teeth, Cutting tendons. And I could not put up a fight Swallowing the blood in my throat,               I ran. My bare feet cut by shells and scales                  My watery grave This mockery of us.
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Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 8:27 AM UTC
Watery grave
Love owes him proof And guarantees written down Or so he believes His eyes caught by Flies attracted to bright, White lights in the subway So sober and grim How could anything, Or someone, ever Feel the same for him.
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May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
Love me like a fly
So many things to look at – pretty Girls with short hair, long hair, Brunettes and blondes Short and tall – they have secrets They’ve got them all The nice ones, too stuck on plans To ever be free, college and marriage Is all the dreams the see The tall ones, those with Beautiful smiles and smoking bodies Their lights blotted out by insecurities But who of them will look through me And who can see the person That I’d truly wish to be I stand here, waiting for something In between it all; someone who Sees me for that which I am A girl that doesn’t run from the skeletons In my Titanic-sizes closet And doesn’t die from boredom When I sit still, when times get calm But I’ve been here before And I loved my time here, yet How could I even sit still With the cries I hear at night I'm clueless as to how to fall in love I think it should have happened At this point, or maybe even long before My mouth and lips are on someone’s thighs The cheap guitar I own, neglected in the corner You and me, for now, is all there is It won’t last long Until I won’t see you Just like you never Truly saw me.
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May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
I misjudge you; you misjudge me
White sneakers and t-shirts With the dumbest prints An Hawaii shirt on occasion Joyful tales; a fool I make So broken it looks like art This high life is my lie life Pink skin (but veins so black) Like sugar so sweet This ****** blues.
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May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
****** Blues
Hi mama, It doesn’t have to be Mother’s Day For me to come up and say That I love you (it's not just in May!) Endlessly forgiving: your mother’s heart Warm and caring in every way Those without kids could never Truly understand – including me And even though you passed fifty, Your patience with me is boundless At times seems everlasting Even though you passed fifty, Your beauty and grace still blossoms! Though you passed fifty, You remain ever so young and full of spirit Thank you for being my mother, mom And thank you for letting me be your son, too. Thank you for believing in me As I believe in you.
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May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 5:00 AM UTC
Mother's Day for Angenita
Sometimes I cry alone Other times I do nothing Nothing at all Once I did a lot – in one day But it wasn’t me Went back inside Closed the curtains Opened ‘em: it was pouring And I loved it Skies and gods wept Along with me Staring outside, longing For everything And one day I wished I wrote a song for Sienna Who I never knew But loved for nothing more Than two sounds, combined Into melody.
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May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 7:24 AM UTC
Can't write songs
Brown apple, bad smell My long forgotten lunchbox I was just a kid It had dinosaurs on it And a volcano – almost empty Inside but so much going on On the outside (it looked cool) And I miss it Even with this rot inside Even the things I don’t know Nor remember For there’s a hole in the middle I can’t see through. - robert
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May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 6:03 AM UTC
It's going great (outside)