Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
My body aches for sympathy
and a trench to bury the bones i've been carrying
lined up so straight
but i lack that symmetry.
sometimes i wish this hardened breeze
would knock me off my careless feet
i would never get up, let the rain feed my pores
guilty conscious scratching at my closing doors
a severed cord,
i've set this up.
that is the only place i would rather be
away from the world, away from myself
less hands to hold, no cry for help
burning the cards from the hand i was dealt
this is what you helped create
a dreamless disaster
of porcelain and plaster
pouring upon your bathroom floor
i am your rhythm-less dancer
and i can't
move anymore.
no demonstrations have been given, and we are falling through the flat lines. A comfort drive through overcast alleyways. complaints of brightened days and open shades. this pipe dream has carried us this far, and i am running faster than our imaginations. this has always been a set-up. a display. i bite my tongue for fear of flying. we hold hands because we're cold. these sentences don't form paragraphs. empty shells encased in gold. desperate vengeance against our bitter halves, assumptions of a frame of mind. Bodies trembling; lack of stimulation erasing those traces we left on that cold night....these cold nights now only taste bitter. From a solid to a liquid we've quickened our reaction time, with time to spare we are trading in spare parts, combined, we've aligned our shipwrecks. We face the south - we are the pessimistic creatures. We are the absent souls. traced bone structures and phantom feelings; genetic make up of uncompleted human beings. Puzzle pieces shaved with razor blades...we make them fit. we take what we want. inhaling expired fumes//exhaling narcissistic volumes. rise! we are everything in this world! we are a mess! Brakes don't exist, and the camera filter is permanently black and white. Jeans too tight, dreams too small. staring at the sunrise through lace and hearing the waves through a myriad of whispers. i am not accountable for my actions. i believe in nothing more and nothing less than gravity. scar tissue ties our binds, ribs entwined, born to die.
You are not defined by your fading photographs.
Your personality does not have a white frame.
You are a Polaroid *******.
 Jan 2014 Amy Grindhouse
Amanda
Happiness is not something that one should have to strive for.
Happiness is not something you can give in pill form
This "happiness" you feed me,
Is not happiness at all
It's a way for my family to shut me up
and a doctor to make a couple bucks
So I swallow the pill
everyday
It doesn't make me happy
Just takes all feeling away
Take your stupid blue capsules
I no longer want them
I'd rather feel sadness
Then your ****** up version of happiness
i dont want to take my meds anymore.
For racism in this world there should not be a place anywhere
For the crimes of one you condemn a whole race but of course there has to be some here and there
For some to be racist any excuse they will find
Since racism is born of ignorance and ignorance is blind.

On your thinking on race you seem so far from right
The windows of your soul are shaded to light
Like a malignant cancer racism does grow
Of this person's race how many do you know?

To our idea of perfection we may try to cling
But of a perfect race, there is no such a thing
Before we learned how to walk we first had to crawl
And the reaper one day will take care of us all.

Everybody is somebody's daughter or somebody's son
And you condemn a whole race for the crimes of one
All sinners are obliged to live with their shame
And for the sins of the father the son you don't blame.
Bi-Polar Man

In the darkest evening hours,
arose a man with special powers.
Stop a fast moving car,
uproot the biggest tree,
float like a butterfly,
sting like a bee.
Climb the highest mountain,
swim the deepest sea,
Drinks from the youth fountain,
the luxury of being free.
Take advantage, it only lasts a few days,
in walks depression, and its wicked ways.
No fun to crash and burn,
not knowing which way to turn.
Sleep all day, awake crying all night,
battle the struggle, with all your might.
Afraid to leave your own house,
too lazy to catch a pestering mouse.
Then the powers suddenly come back,
now it's time for the returning attack.
Playing Frogger on a busy street,
for the high score, you compete.
Jump the tallest building,
faster than a private jet,
dreams and goals, you're fulfilling,
spending money, bills you forget.
Once again, you start to crash,
head you begin to bash.
You are bi-polar man,
never was part of the plan.
One day happy, next day sad,
Now you're laughing, then you're mad.
Mood changes on the drop of a dime,
no perception of day or time.
On a schedule of pill taking,
these habits, no chance of breaking.
I happen to be a bi-polar man,
just doing whatever I can.
 Jan 2014 Amy Grindhouse
Quinn
It was times like those,
When I could get drunk on your words
And swirl them around on my tongue
Like fine wine
You were my tall champagne flute
Lean and see through
But I loved you all the same
We became a drunken stupor
And the hauntingly lone nights became my hangover
Next page