Snip, snip, I'll cut the bonds
I'll cut them til my friends are gone
I don't need you or you or you
Cuz face it, you don't need me too
You never cared 'bout what I say
Or how's my evening, how's my day
I'm not worth a thing, you see
A useless **** to you and me
I can't fix mistakes I've made
What I did, the price i paid
So snip, snip, I'll cut the bonds
I've cut them now, my friends are gone
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
When I say,
"I need a hug"
I don't mean those simple ones.
Those easy one-arm-over-one-arm-under,
Those awkward-pats-on-the-back,
Those that say I-don't-really-mean-it,
Those that reply this-makes-me-uncomfortable.
I don't mean them.
I mean clinging to you like a man to driftwood amidst a roaring storm,
I mean burying my face in your embrace to smother my frustration,
I mean being held tight enough to stop myself from falling apart,
I mean feeling safe from the world outside the shelter of your arms,
I need a hug.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
Tired eyes? Tired brain,
I'm not sick. I'm not insane.
You ask what's wrong, it's all in vain,
Since I'm not hurt. I'm not in pain.
Listen to me.
Weary smile? Weary heart,
I'm not sick. Not torn apart.
You say I lie, I say it's art,
Since I'm not used. I'm just not smart.
Listen to me!
Bitter tears? Bitter soul,
I'm not sick. Life takes its toll.
You want to help, it's not your role
Since I'm not cracked. I'm still a whole.
I said listen!
No.
Please.
Why?
I have something to say.
Go on.
*You're sick. Stop denying it.
There's clearly something wrong.
It's all a lie and there's no art.
Let me help you heal.*
No.
Please, let me help you heal.
No!
Before it's too late.
It already is.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
Don't assume they're blue, child
If they're not red like you
For there are other colours here
Like green and purple too
A yellow bright like sunshine
A brown like chocolate chip
A grey like rainy storm-skies
An orange salsa dip
A violet dark as nightfall
A white on mountain peaks
A silver-gold of starlight
A pink like blushing cheeks
A fuchsia flower garden
A green of grass and leaves
A black as dark as void-holes
A turquoise like the sea
See, there are many colours here
Like green and purple too
So don't assume they're blue, child
If they're not red like you
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
*He told me my scars weren't beautiful
And I told him that no one could ever really admire a masterpiece
Without taking a few steps back*
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
it's not that special
what i do
because all i do
is put down
words
that sound cool:
nacreous
adulation
effervescence
narcissistic
imbroglio
divine
haphazard
there's no rhythm
in what i say
all i'm doing
is breaking
lines
and adding
s p a c e s
sometimes
(yes, sometimes)
i put my words
(in these)
in things we call parentheses
and sometimes
(yes, sometimes)
i repeat myself
and call it
emphasis
(emphasis)
on occasion
I might rhyme
but that takes thought
and that takes time
cat, hat, bat
late, hate, date
fat, gnat, mat
mate, fate, eight
sometimes syllables
can help your flow sound better
much like a haiku
if i talk about angst
death, love, and self-hate
(cliche topics)
it's deep
but my favorite
poem i ever
wrote
was about bacon
and god forbid
i capitalize
because that would mean
it didn't look artsy
THIS IS NOT OKAY
Neither is this.
no punctuation
at all
people say my poetry
is beautiful
that I follow all the rules
but I didn't know there
were rules
to follow
really all I do
is put random words
random phrases
in random patterns
and call it art
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
Touch your imagination.
Expand your power of creation.
Millions of souls reactant to your work.
Millions of people grabbing on to their worth.
You're a diamond covered in dirt.
Find something great far in the outskirt.
Brace yourself for the truth will hurt.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
My friend cut his hair.
Many weeks ago.
His hair was long,
But now it's short,
Much shorter than before.
My friend cut his hair.
It's softer to the touch.
I pat his head,
A gentle tap,
He didn't like it much.
My friend cut his hair.
It used to hide his eyes.
I see them both,
Like pretty jewels,
No longer in disguise.
My friend cut his hair.
It makes him different now.
His eyes light up,
His smiles are warm,
As warm as he'll allow.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Surely, there is a word somewhere for the feeling of being
On the brink of creative explosion
But letting the feeling fester and die away, barely acknowledged,
While rain drops fall across the windowpane.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
Green skin, skulled face,
Candy red? Or lime green?
I do not know,
Both, maybe.
Creature hatched from a sugary treat,
Eggshell sickly sweet.
I devour it,
Nothing remains.
I am no longer a creature,
Two sides split:
Lime green, candy red,
A sarcophagus as my bed.
I house a bloodbath.
Candy red soldiers
March across and slaughter
Lime green maidens
Weep and flee and cry out
I am but a cage
Housing opposing sides of colour
Who is winning?
Can you tell?
The deed is done.
I surrender.
The Muse has been struck down, space.
A mark left in her place.
I surrender.
The Lord has won this war, time.
I am no longer mine.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC