I'm not good at this
All my poems kind of ****
Meh, why not just write
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
Maybe I should even try to both be
the sooner you'll get rid of feedback because they're all
Sometimes I should sing most when my state of mind
Not in a set of cards with yoga pose instructions I'm currently going
I'm tired and beautiful and cute
I'm tired and bored out
...
Oh yeah I need all
People are somewhat murky and shallow in order to show you
WHY DO something
I'm tired of *being a ****** person.*
...
It's really don't wanna impose anything.... But anybody want
...
I'm tired and conflicted.
Ugh I've been wondering about for ice cream to attempt to message certain people
Uck. It say
...
I really don't know
never thought I'd hate for the person
Sometimes I feel and smell of things to do
That's not an ice is weighing me
It's really painful most of the base of personal information about me, or going
...
But eating shrimp feels weirdly like
...
No, everything is predestined to die from embarrassment and/or maybe guilt. But it's just like
That magical feminist is running the only have you
You have a finger at getting people
...
My staircase is bizarrely comfortable to everything ever
Aluk op oal ilcä aäcij ulrü cujy ulsu wäsyn cujy rincy cyykky cujy ürsäüpyu ipuincy kurky jü siij urir cu lina uij rüyl opam suasäcij kyäc kuläypincy di.
That magical feminist is the stuff
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
I listen with stapled lips
Waiting
My predator, prey, and companion
I don't know if it's safe to rip the silence out of me
I can't trust myself to move
So I sit as this black and silver storm cloud builds up inside me
Threatening to tear me to shreds if I continue to stay silent
And I stay silent
The words ache at the back of my throat
And I refuse to say them
Better to embrace my sticky metal suicide
Than the predator slash through my flesh and veins
Better to waste away in my lyric starvation
Than let a beast **** me
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
WELCOME TO SHRAPNEL CITY, SPITTING ***** OUT LIKE BULLETS, OR PEOPLE, OR GRAINS OF SAND, OR PLANETARY SYSTEMS. I SAY “I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING ****** UP IN MY HEAD” LIKE SOME PEOPLE SAY “IT'S RAINING OUTSIDE” AND MAYBE THAT'S REALLY ****** UP BUT I CAN'T WAIT FOR SOMEONE TO ROMANTICIZE ME WHAT IF THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME BUT THAT'S OKAY, IT'S NOT VIOLENT OR NASTY OR ****** SO THAT MEANS IT'S HEALTHY, RIGHT? THAT MEANS WE'RE HEALTHY, RIGHT? EVERYONE HAS BAD DAYS, SWEETHEART I WANT TO DRAW EYES ON MY WHOLE BODY, COVER MYSELF IN SOMETHING GOOD, PEEL OFF MY SKIN AND MAKE IT INTO A SONG THAT OTHER PEOPLE CAN BLEED / CRY / SMOKE TO (THIS IS MY DREAM, I SAY, AND I THINK YOU MIGHT BELIEVE ME). I HAVE A DEATHLY FEAR OF CHOKING BUT I LIKE IT WHEN MY CATS SCRATCH ME BECAUSE IT GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO BLEED THAT I DON'T USUALLY HAVE, AND ISN'T THAT JUST SO WEIRD? ISN'T THAT SO CUTE? DON'T LOOK AT MY LEGS, OR MY FINGERS, OR MY SCALP, DON'T ASK IF I'VE BEEN GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP. IGNORE THAT I EXIST (I DON'T). IT'S OKAY, I WON'T MIND. I WEAR SWEATERS ALL THE TIME SO NO ONE CAN SEE MY CHEST AND I SAY IT'S A GENDER THING BUT ACTUALLY IT'S MORE LIKE AN I-HAVE-SCRATCH-MARKS-AND-SCARS-ALL-OVER-MY-CHEST-AND-I-THINK-I'M-BECOMING-LESS-OF-A-REAL-PERSON THING. IS THAT MESSED UP? IS THAT WEIRD? IS THAT CUTE? I'LL PUT IT ON A T-SHIRT, MAYBE. IT'S NOT SELF HARM, I JUST DON'T LIKE HAVING BUMPS ON MY BODY. DOES THAT MAKE IT BETTER? DO YOU FEEL LIKE A HERO YET? I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I'M GLAD I REALLY AM
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
You can think of people a vases
Each one is unique
Each holds something special inside...
Or maybe nothing at all
Some are in perfect condition
Some are lightly chipped
While others...
They are smashed on hard tile
Each one has seen the passing of different things
Each has a personality all it's own
But yet...
People tend to like them better when they are matching
The truth dear is
I need your help
In pasting my vase back together...
Just don't try to find or understand it's hidden contents
that will tear me apart
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
At a usual first introduction, I say "Hello" and "How do you do?"
It shows people good emotions, like it's all you are able to
Which is fine I guess, but we all know it's a lie
Sit down, maybe, and I'll tell you why
I've said it to myself many times before;
I suppose telling you, won't hurt me any more
"Excuse me, Ma'am or Sir, can I have your attention please? This state of mind I'm living in; It's brought me to my knees
I've stood alone and taken it for way-oh-much-too-long
I don't blame you or anyone else indeed
But how can you just sit there watching while I plead?
In here it's a wild mess, and I'm lonely!"
I pour out my heart
Yet you don't care
I'm covered with the scars
From those who don't play fair
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
Sing for me pretty bird of mine
I've cut out my tongue and can't say a word in time
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
I went to the kitchen and asked the magician
"What do you think of love?"
He took his two birds, love birds they be
He swung them around carelessly
Right then and there he broke their necks, sputtering
"That's what I think of love!"
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
I've sewn my heart together with thread made silver 'lone
The blood that dripped from my lip and deep within my bone
It swept into my mind like a dainty little dancer
But the thread made no sound, and still gives me no answer
Instead silver wrapped around my waist like a metal corset
And dares me not to breathe, so now every breath I force it
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC