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591 · Mar 2015
Christopher Walkin'
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
"Stop the car,"

I tell her

"I'll ******* walk home."

My hands find the dashboard to sturdy myself as she slams
on the brakes and starts screaming, but I'm gone already.
Tires shriek, gasoline burns, and exhaust fills my being as
she leaves, and I start off in the opposite direction.

Halfway through my trek I feel stones digging into my feet,
right at the spot where my souls meet body and I think:

I've got holes in my souls, hmm.

Then it gets stuck inside my mind like a chicken bone and
with each step I take I start chanting it, like a walking mantra.

Holes in my souls, holes in my souls, holes in my souls,
hole sin my souls, holesin mysouls, holesinmysouls,
holes-souls, holy-in-my-souly, holy-moly soulies...

...holes in my soul...
...my whole soul...
...holy souls...
...hmm...Ouch.

My concentration is then broken by a rock in my shoe and I think:

Wait...
*Where the **** am I going?
591 · Aug 2015
imaginary caffeine with me
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
"I'm like, torn...

...between wanting to know who you really are,
and being terrified of it."
like, uhhh likeeee like totally like um yeah like uhhhmmm
like like like, totally Mel
585 · Jun 2022
Write and Wrong.
Justin S Wampler Jun 2022
Until you hate me,

you'll love me.

Liquor, and love lost.
Left.
Leaving.

Right?

Everyone leaves,
no one is left.
What's right?

What's
wrong?


What's
write?
I'll be your fondest memories,
you'll be my greatest regret.
583 · Aug 2015
beer like water
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
i lose track of time
and loosen that doubt of mine
beginning with a sip
and ending up gulping
every last drip
from countless cans
580 · Nov 2014
Man, You Facturing Silence.
Justin S Wampler Nov 2014
Holes are the result of what they had brought
to the millions of targets the wrath had wrought
In a power-fueled rage, spitting words venom laced
towards every one of those whomever opposed

To leave nothing of the earth but a mark with mirth
planting fleeting toadstool clouds, making gods proud
Ruins remaining will reside strewn both far and wide
the once plentiful signs of life cast at last into Æther  

a manufactured moment of silence
lies seen by the eyes of compliance
579 · Jul 2015
Who did you cut?
Justin S Wampler Jul 2015
A blood stain on a piece of paper
shows so **** much.
578 · Jun 2015
Starving Scissors
Justin S Wampler Jun 2015
On the edge of the bed she sat
ripping page after page out of a
yellowing paperback dictionary.

The muted orange glow of the
arc-sodium street lamps outside
of the bedroom window cast her
face in shades of fire, and the sounds
of tearing paper mocked her
in sharp snores of the sleep that
would not greet her weary mind.

Certain words and definitions
would catch her eye in brief
inspiration, but the feeling
was always gone before
the page even hit the floor.

Strips of clothing and shredded
documents littered the carpet and
covered the bed in spiteful layers
of contempt as the scissors she used
to massacre his favorite shirts and
jeans lay open in her lap, still hungry
for more of the revenge she had been
enacting all night long.

Her fingers began to cramp up
and she realized that she was
bleeding from countless paper
cuts covering her knuckles, leaving
macabre fingerprints on the pile
of torn pages from his pocket
dictionary now lying between
her bare feet and painted toes.

Now removed from her trance
by the acute pain and blood
she managed a fleeting glance
at the page still in her palm,
numbered 236-237 and right
on the cusp of the L section
and the M section, she spied
the word that drove her to
this in the first place.

Beneath a darkening crimson droplet read
"love n  1: great and warm affection,"
she sighed, crumpling up the thin
paper and popped it in her mouth as she
began to chew and began to cry.

She chewed and she cried and she chewed
until it was nothing more than a *** of pulp,
tasting faintly of copper and resting sourly on
her tongue, when she swallowed it whole and laid
her throbbing head down on the shredded
pillow, finally able to get some sleep with her
tummy full of love.
578 · Feb 2017
Pecancakes
Justin S Wampler Feb 2017
Each and every word
that flows from
her mind to her mouth,
washes over me
like the waves of
an electric ocean,
the current undeniable
in it's ability to move
my body and soul
to unknown places.

I smile my teeth out
and squint my eyes
as her electric love
beats down upon me
like a radiating sun.
578 · Apr 2015
Ass fixie hate
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
Sigh and
never breathe
in again.
Justin S Wampler Jul 2016
Brown bleeds to blue and back again
while man sits upon his legacy
as if it were the throne of a king.

New days come to those
who least expect the throws
of a moral quandary.

New days dream of those
who dream to dispose
of their old ways.
576 · Sep 2014
disdain and distaste
Justin S Wampler Sep 2014
for the whole
of human race
cannot compare
to how I feel
about myself.
574 · Mar 2015
Fear Embodied
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
Sometimes the things I write scare me,
but then I remind myself to be uncensored.
Let thoughts flow like crimson rivers,
let no daydreams left unventured.

Peek inside the depths of me
and see a slow-whirring blender
ripping up those disco-ball mirrors
reflecting many doors yet entered.
573 · May 2015
"...for I have sinned."
Justin S Wampler May 2015
Three severed devils,
with their golden-cloven hooves,
stampede upon me.
(haiku) [10w]
571 · Feb 2016
ICU there.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2016
Don't leave please.
We all love you so much.

We're all so thankful
for the love you've given us.
I love you mom.
569 · May 2014
With In
Justin S Wampler May 2014
Lately, it seems
people having dreams
wake abruptly
to the sirens wailing
or the crows cawing
and the harsh realization
dawns on their faces
that these noises
that these dreams
that this reality
comes from within
themselves.
I don't dream very often, and I miss it dearly.
569 · Aug 2015
turncoat lullaby
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
So far away, the daylight fades.
Behind the bridges in my way,
made of old oak and the smiles
of people two thousand miles away.

So far away, no one can stay.
Here with us in our present day,
all the lost dreams we cast away
with each word we couldn't say.

So far away, so far away.
The daylight fades
like our lives and days,
no one can stay.
567 · Apr 2015
The Reflection.
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
One day I was walking to the kitchen,
you know, to eat,
when I passed the mirror in the hallway.

I've walked by that mirror countless times,
you know, on my way to the kitchen,
but this time something really grabbed my attention.

I stopped and caught my glance in the looking glass,
you know, the one in the hallway,
and just could not look away for the life of me.

In fact I did the opposite and got closer and closer,
you know, to the mirror,
until at last my forehead was pressed up against it.

Then my reflection blinked and smiled at me,
you know, showing its teeth,
but it had giant dripping fangs and smouldering eyes.

I screamed as it reached through the glass and grabbed me,
you know, with it's talon claws,
and yanked me right through into the reflective prison.

I looked around and saw the interior of my home reversed,
you know, like in a mirror,
and the only light came from a strange and unfamiliar window.

I peeked tentatively into the glass of this odd window,
you know, only it wasn't a window,
and saw the horrible fanged thing smiling back at me again.

Then it reached up and eagerly waved hello,
you know, like waving goodbye,
and smashed the glass all to pieces.

As it shattered the light ran out of my new world,
you know, like purgatory,
so I sat down and thought: "Man I'm ******* hungry."
566 · May 2015
No-joke.
Justin S Wampler May 2015
A man walks into a bar,
he's an alcoholic and
it's destroying his life.
566 · May 2015
Bombay Sapphire
Justin S Wampler May 2015
Slowly killing minds
and turning up time.
566 · May 2014
Incriminating Doubt
Justin S Wampler May 2014
Listen close, you'll hear the screaming behind my laughter.
Like if you look hard enough, imperfections become amplified by our attempts trying to hide them.
And if you stop to smell how the world really is, you're left with tasting what you had for lunch.
Or maybe if you spend enough time pondering the things you think about, being sentient loses meaning.
This poem hates me.
566 · Oct 2017
The guns of his father
Justin S Wampler Oct 2017
He watches the world pass by
as streetlights periodically flood
the inside of his cab with the orange
glow of the buzzing arc sodium bulbs.

Everything is painted lines
on wet asphalt and the streaks
that tiny beads of water make
as rain splatters the windshield.

Tones of exhaust and the RPM
of the engine vibrate within him
as the tachometer races back and
forth between each changing gear.

When he isn't busy working the clutch
he likes to steer with his knees, and
reaches his hands outward, stretching
the sore muscles of his arms and neck.

The night is bountiful with subtle gifts
of empty highways and a full moon
in a cloudless sky that hovers above
the horizon like an absconded balloon.

Sometimes life makes sense and it's
times like this that he can begin to
add everything up into a simple sum
of sensory input, emotion, & memory.

Sometimes life is a singularity to each
within their own mind, and other
times it seems a broad umbrella that
covers us all equally with similarities.

Sometimes life is as easy as keeping
on trucking down an empty road in
the middle of the night. He does his
best to remember this.
565 · Nov 2021
Gold
Justin S Wampler Nov 2021
There's no... Glimmer.
No, sheen or glint.
There's not a single hint
of iridescent shimmer.

There's no learning,
nothing here to glean.
I've checked between
the lines, discerning
only a hollow vastness
where others have seen
bits of what it all means.
I've found only plastics.

Torn and terrible,
the way I've been.
A living dream,
nothing's untearable.
564 · Jun 2016
Instant reminisence
Justin S Wampler Jun 2016
My mouth is dry as I sit up,
not knowing where I am.
The fleeting dreams leave me
and I'm left with this throbbing
in my head, nauseated and foggy
in the pale morning light.
Fully dressed in ripped and stained
clothing that reeks of puke and smoke,
gravity presses inwards on my temples
and I want to die like this.

In the grey and hazy aftermath
of a night long forgotten.
563 · May 2015
WD40
Justin S Wampler May 2015
He paints the insides of his nostrils
with whiteout and glue,
and takes a deep breath.

Scotty colors his teeth in with a sharpie
standing before the bathroom mirror,
he exhales and smiles blackly.

The whiteness of his eyes irritates him,
so he sprays them with double-you-dee-forty
and they roll in his head smoothly and reddened.

His beautiful hands catch his eye
and he grabs a thumbnail with his incisors,
pausing to glance into his intentions.

When Scott sees himself reflected,
his head jerks and the nail is ripped from his skin
as his pained grimace turns into an insane grin.

As he becomes beautiful again.
560 · Feb 2022
In a bidding war for love.
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
She stole my heart.

I found it
listed on eBay.
559 · Aug 2014
I've seen Me
558 · Jul 2022
Burn
Justin S Wampler Jul 2022
Blue and chartreuse.

Painted true.

Doused in epinephrine.

Ignited by you.
558 · Aug 2014
sick fuck
Justin S Wampler Aug 2014
To every woman I've ever loved:
the pleasure has been mine,
to see you at your most beautiful;
like when I made you cry.

Because loving me wasn't enough
to convince me otherwise,
that your commitment wasn't a bluff;
so I had to scar you inside.
Am I ill?
551 · Dec 2016
Falling in love with you
Justin S Wampler Dec 2016
The best idea
I've ever had.
550 · Jul 2016
Hi there.
Justin S Wampler Jul 2016
Oh your daughter is lovely,
lovely as rising sunlight.
She shines with such decadence
and banishes the night.
Oh your daughter is precious,
I'll always treat her right.
So I hope that you like me,
please don't be uptight.
548 · Feb 2022
Mate
Justin S Wampler Feb 2022
Sometimes
people
end up
alone.

Sometimes
It's by
choice.

Other times
it's because
they're fat,
or ugly.
548 · Dec 2020
My new favorite hobby
Justin S Wampler Dec 2020
My new favorite hobby
Is hands, and flesh.
My new favorite hobby
Is my name on your breath.
My new favorite hobby
Is leaving bruises and marks.
My new favorite hobby
Is a shower in the dark.
My new favorite hobby
Is sweat on my chest.
My new favorite hobby
Is staying undressed.
My new favorite hobby
Is that look in your eyes.
My new favorite hobby
Is giving you sore thighs.
548 · Dec 2018
Wet paper
Justin S Wampler Dec 2018
A little voice
Tells me
To hold backspace
Until everything
Is gone.
Occasion arises
And I erase
Eagerly
And with gusto
Until masterpieces
Vanish.
I'm not
I'm not a writer
Or a lover
Or anything
I am whiteout
Painting coats
Onto an
Already blank
Sheet of paper.
548 · Oct 2016
Orange leaves
Justin S Wampler Oct 2016
I just want to sing

about everything

and smile and smile.
545 · Feb 2015
Modern Writing
Justin S Wampler Feb 2015
no one criticizes me
everyone just smiles and says that everything i write and share is good
they nod and say i'm "talented"
i ******* hate it
they make me want to quit writing
i read so much **** daily
so many awful meaningless expressionless words
every ******* day

and i contribute to it

someone tell me that i'll never be a writer
give me a reason to keep going
this place is secptic

we are all byproducts


.
543 · Mar 2015
The Saline Solution
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
She watched a bead of sweat cross the bridge of his nose
and roll all the way down to the tip, where it hung above her
in an eternal moment of ecstasy and primal pleasure.

He saw her looking cross-eyed at his face and he smiled
as she craned her head up and licked the drop of saline
from the tip of his nose. He tasted it on her lips.

They gasped and sighed into each other's mouths,
they lived and died inside of each other's eyes.
They left life behind one stroke at a time,
they ****** the days away.
.



What are we playing at?
541 · Feb 2015
Sing the blooze
Justin S Wampler Feb 2015
The bar wrapped around in the shape of a question mark,
as if it knew we didn't know why we were here.

Deco lamps hung above since long before we existed,
cigarette smoke left the stained glass tinted
an unfortunate yellow.

Right-angle mirrors play tricks on my eyes as I see myself,
rightfully hidden behind hard liquor on the shelf.

I can't help but try to remember the light of my smile,
so I try one out on my face for awhile becoming
an uncertain fellow.

The reflection in that tricky mirror seemed to be
showing that we had become only me.
540 · Aug 2015
lead pills
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
With a steaming gasp of passion
I listen to his name fall from her lips.
The creaking behind the door,
god, the creaking.
The rhythmic slapping,
an applause to my final act.

The weight conforms to my grip,
the weight of life and death,
and I release the magazine
to study and admire the lead pills,
all in a neat little row.

Each one of them carries her sentence,
and his sentence,
ready to write history in blood,
punctuating each line
with a bullet hole.
536 · May 2015
Untitled
Justin S Wampler May 2015
Chartreuse and obtuse
she's sky-blue angles
and acute when she dangles
from a wordy noose.

I want to watch her
commit suicide
while heavily altered
with me in mind.

**** jupiter
and
**** the sky
535 · Jul 2016
It's a twister!
Justin S Wampler Jul 2016
...and the yellow skies
behind her gradient eyes
send me sailing
where gravity's defied
in an upwards sprial
of homelust...

...and Kansas never seemed so beautiful...
Justin S Wampler Mar 2016
The bane of intelligence
curses those born with it.
I've become committed
to refining my ignorance.
Honing my bliss to a keen
edge that I press to my forearm.
The genocide of my brain cells
has been ongoing for years,
and I've embraced my fears,
becoming too frightened
of change to ever try.
The ***** cleanses my mind,
wiping it smooth.
I just stay inside.
I just stay inside,
figuring out
how to smile.
532 · Nov 2015
Saying Goodbye
Justin S Wampler Nov 2015
That's okay, man.
I understand.

Have a good time.
532 · Aug 2015
Unsocial media
Justin S Wampler Aug 2015
Get your ******* life
out of my facebook,
stop ******* twittering
in my ear,
hang your selfie
with a vine.
532 · Mar 2015
The love between
Justin S Wampler Mar 2015
From you to me it's only
about 2,455 miles.

We could both start now
and meet somewhere
in between

Or I could drop everything
and book a flight
Only for my airplane to
crash tonight.

But if I survive I'll still walk,
I'll meet you up in Seattle
before my death rattle.

Press yourself against me and
embrace my broken body.

**** me with your eyes,
stop my breath with your lips.
530 · Dec 2016
Untitled
Justin S Wampler Dec 2016
Fragrances of floral bouquets
and fresh cinnamon rolls
waft to and fro in the warm air,
the subtle hues of red and green
that are hinted everywhere,
paired with the little lights
stretched out on strings
that are wrapped around
almost everything,
bring us all home
for the holidays.
Join me, my friend
let us eat.
528 · Jun 2015
An extra six
Justin S Wampler Jun 2015
I buried her
twelve feet under
the backyard.

Because I knew that
deep down
she was a good person.
525 · Aug 2014
(optional){10w}
Justin S Wampler Aug 2014
The only pain worth my time
is broken-heart kind
522 · Jul 2022
I really don't know.
Justin S Wampler Jul 2022
I keep biding my time
and biting my tongue.

When is it enough?
How long do I wait to say it?
522 · Aug 2016
Doubt instilled.
Justin S Wampler Aug 2016
An ode to doubt instilled,
though so unworthy of my words,
still finds ways to derive life
and persist in this ****** world.
From the insides of my mind,
driving themselves out of my fingers
in bitter fits of agony and pride,
these dark thoughts still linger.

I beg of these thoughts to cease,
to ******* leave me be me
for once in my ******* life
without having to worry,
yet it does no good.

They just look down upon me
on my gravel-ridden knees
and are deaf to my pleas
for relent, for mercy,
as they batter my heart and mind
with meaningless uncertainties.

The steel belt of my trust
has been laden with rust,
and these days it breaks
with the gentlest touch.

Well, ****, so what?
Who doesn't doubt us?

...Maybe I need these feelings
in order to finally believe in

myself.
521 · Jul 2016
Bending between us.
Justin S Wampler Jul 2016
How long does your will run?
Does it bleed through the horizon,
persistently pursuing the setting sun?
Or does it waver in the summer heat
radiating off of these endless streets?
Is it all a mirage, a dream undreamt
from each late night's waking sleep?
How long does your will run,
because mine's only skin deep.
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