Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I don't know how I can write all this
Know all this
With a pinpoint, laser focus
Tuned so far into,
Most every issue,
I come out the other side of existence
To get a look at if from every angle,
This ain't checkers, this is chess
From biggest
To littlest
Catalyst,
To coroner visits
Call every witness
There's an obvious will,
To one day still,
Find a bottom to this
Accountability,
Twords the top of the list
While I skirt a bit of responsibility,
Let's be honest
But can't fold any of it into my healing process
So after all this,
And after being told it would absolutely aid in the progress,
I'm still a mess
Can't make it make sense

©2024
Hope is out on another untimely vacation
Causing a slight hesitation upon recognition
'Cause this isn't the first occasion
Even when only halfway paying attention
I know what's comin',
Probably should have run
For all the good that ever done
Keep an eye on the horizon, just south of the setting sun
You'll hear the invasion of a negative persuasion
Long before they let you see 'em
And you'll notice, there's no record of a single recorded win
From all the way back since I don't know when
And all I can confirm is that there's never been

©2024
If you don't mind Mr Betts,
Can I call you Mr Betts?
Yes? Great
Mr Betts,
I'm going to keep this brief
i'd like to go through a few Q&A's
Off the record as always
And no apologies
~~~
Have you ever tried not being a priick?
Or attempted to not mess up shhit?
Every feeding and helping hand,
Innocently presented,
Got bit
Your past can't always be the culprit
The future shouldn't be viewed as unimportant
That opens the door for thoughts of forfeit
Forced to be reactant
Bilt a bridge to get over it
The craftsmanship is always immaculate
Admired from entrance to exit
Then, in the very next moment,
There's always a head turn to confirm it
A ***** and Gomorrah double take to make sure the thing stayed lit
Though you've never turn to stone or **** a brick
It's not a one time incident
I'm sensing that punishment is no longer a deterrent
It isn't, isn't it?
The troubling news is...you guessed it
Everyone's reclaiming their investment
Or eating the cost, willing to take the loss just to be done with it
Setting a telling precedent of embarrassment
One with an abundance of resentment
All the while, this battle internal is constant
Brought on ironically by an antidepressant
Raging against tendencies of a suicidal mindset
It's crazy how ugly things tend to get,
Within a quarter of a heart beat minus a minute
In other words, it's instant
Good luck, you're gonna need it."

©2024
I feel something missing from me
I have this empty, icy chest cavity
Where a something should absolutely be
But for the life of me
I can't think of what the contents use to be
I can't recall what I used to see
Back in the day when I looked in the mirror,
And the mirror looked back at me
I think it was something important ultimately
But there's definitely nothing there now so how important could what was there be,
I mean really
It doesn't appear to be a necessity
Maybe it was just an option in the creation recipe
Just figured since I'm working to put myself back together,
This time completely
I'd focus on the biggest vacancy
But I guess I'll just leave it be,
At least until it starts affecting me
We'll just have to wait and see

©2024
I'll be right here
Or thereabouts
Have to fight fear
Endless bouts
Year after year
Who I am is denounced
The end is near
Shamelessly announced
The truths back there
A mute man shouts
Doesn't matter where
The blind will pounce
A future seer
Only raises doubts
The amounts one drowns in
Could be less than
A powder or liquid ounce

©2024
A Hard Knock alum, not permitted to blossom
No one ever there who'd care to clarify "how come?"
Deep down, in the depths of my heart shaped chasm,
I know what's about to come in is the inevitable outcome
That I forgot to remember I was still and forever running from
Or,
More likely
Subconsciously, finally and fully drained, exhausted and done
This was not that much fun

©2024
•°• A Twisted Classic •°•

I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start
To burn what's left of your heart

You took my heart as my one desire
Now I hate you
For all you did and didn't do

©2024
Would you get a load of this priick...

Entitlement punk crybaby excrement
In mom's basement
Everyday
Trying to **** his own wick

No ******* with a chick
Mildly pathetic
Still
Stream it to the public

Embarrassment is gonna hit
Shoulda quit
To late
Now this is what you get

Find blame and aim it
Control the topic
"It ain't me"
...so it must be women's empowerment?

Assuming you never knew what rhetorical meant
You can't know that wasn't
I'm asking,
That's not a statement

The angers placement
Seems specifically targeted doesn't it
Common denominator
Looks to be your equipment...
...dip shiit

Y'all need Jesus, you're sick

©2024
Damaged by my damage plan
Igniting the burn ban
Been soaked in societies poison
Snap at every helping hand
Don't like me?
Well guess what?
We agree
I'm also not a fan
Ideas pulled from a porcelain can
Strangers bull excrement,
Fills my allotted bed pan
The crash is imminent,
But where & when will I land?
Problems equivalent
To the individual grains of beach sand
From sea to shining sea and,
Across the land
No one has ever out run it,
Can't understand why I ran
BUT
I'm sugar cookie bland
Therefore I do understand getting caught,
'Cause I am not
A gingerbread man

©2024
Anyone else mess with a "finished " piece to the point you feel like you may have ruined it, sometimes losing the plot even? Maybe I made it better, maybe I can't seem to leave well enough alone

--Original--
~•§•~ Fast As You Can ~•§•~

I've damaged my damage plan
Ignited the burn ban
Snap at every helping hand
Don't like me? Well guess what?
I'm also not a fan
Ideas pulled from a porcelain can
The crash is imminent,
But where will I land?
Problems equivalent to the individual pebbles of beach sand
No one has ever out run their problems,
I still ran
Always caught 'cause I'm not
A gingerbread man

©2024
 Apr 1 Arlo Disarray
JDK
The minutes of the hour, day, week, year, decade, lifetime . . .  
grains of sand slipping too quickly through a hand trying desperately to hold on.

For what purpose?
To fling into the eyes of our enemy?
To add to a castle that will wash away in the tides?
To feel like we've got some semblance of a grip on this intangible thing called life?

We're all just holding on to a fistful of nothing,
and we're holding on too tight.
Let it go
Next page