Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2018 · 77
All the Broken People
Sour Patched Kid Dec 2018
we walk in darkness,
faintly but agile,
dodging puddles
and strangers
whose gaze is uncomfortable

we play games
with ourselves
that we just can't win.
we try to bend the rules
but instead just bend ourselves.

we lose ourselves in art:
the only thing that's real.
because the connections we make
are hurried and fake.
affection is *** appeal.

we inquire and murmur
hoping the other has an answer
to our questions of self doubt.
we jump off the bridges we build,
and hope they burn with our regrets.

we search for souls
replete with love,
knowing **** well
love is an empty concept
to all the broken people
Sour Patched Kid Dec 2018
we both see red,
but my red isn't your red,
and the doctors tell me there is no "red" at all.

i'm counting the days.
my numbers make them numbered,
and i'm just growing number.

i'm calling on the angels
to have faith in something more than memories.
suffering from loss because i remember "me"

the end isn't far.
i can't tell "end" from "END",
but right now i would settle for either.
May 2018 · 107
Burden pt. 2
Sour Patched Kid May 2018
i've tried
to find
the light
flick'ring
it leads
again
nowhere
wond'ring
where does
this end
do i
create
the end
the search
to be
happy
is so
pointless
to me
because
it fades
to coal
we work
for cash
to pay
bills and
take pills
matter
is all
that does
matter
but to
me it
doesn't
matter
at all
i have
no faith
in gods
or gems
no joy
in tales
or hymns
there is
no love
to be
felt here
like a
dog I
only
see in
shades of
grey now
no high
is worth
the climb
no words
are worth
the rhyme
i will
soon be
saying
goodbye
for the
last time
Apr 2018 · 117
how to never kill yourself
Sour Patched Kid Apr 2018
wait for the best day.

the best day
to
**** yourself
is
your birthday
because your
loved ones
will only be forced to think about
your suicide
once per year

(your birthday comes.

you eat cake and smile.
you drink, dance, and forget you're suicidal.
you wake up the next morning
back in the suicidal mindset
but knowing you have to wait
364 days.

you wait 364 days.)

repeat until death
Mar 2018 · 96
Treasure
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
Home was wherever you were
Now home lies on treasure maps
"Ex" marks the spot
So I travel and I dig
but all I dig up is rot
Home is still a treasure
I've just lost the key
Mar 2018 · 96
Walls
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
Walls.
Someone or something hurts, and then walls.
Everywhere.
But
So towers tall the ground around you
When
You're at the bottom of a hole.
Heaving
Higher or digging depths, it's all the same.
Unless
You build beneath you.
Mar 2018 · 189
Love pt.1
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
I sparked a cigarette and painted my faults with gasoline.
I steadied my limbs and summoned the guillotine.
Never had I pondered that love was so subtle.
Never had I wandered so far from rebuttal.
It's funny how feelings themselves whimper when they're so animated.
Had I known any better I would have stayed for sedation.
Tell me something that echoes so profound.
Tell me something that forever makes a sound.
Mar 2018 · 127
and never come back.
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
Prayers balance my regrets
All I've forgiven
I've not done yet

Tomorrow looms
Its shadow casts a spell
Where it leads I cannot tell

Love is change
Change is to be lost
Adventure comes with a cost
Mar 2018 · 118
the perfect poem
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
Some have asked
Will you ever stop writing
I tell them
I will stop writing
When I have captured her
In words
Imagery
Similes
Magic threes

I will stop writing
When I have captured her
In the perfect poem
Mar 2018 · 105
Simply Mad
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
I rinse the cups
In case
They're lined
With poison

But I pop the vitamins
And leave my supplements
Under the drug cabinet
When my ambition is suitable

The tap water tastes funny
And the food never goes down
Quite right

My sleep is like my relationships:
Seldom deep and only existent
Because of normalcy

Judge my facade
Acting is easy
Madness is difficult though honest
I am simply mad.
Mar 2018 · 169
Untitled
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
I wanted a broken heart
Because many hearts were broken
And to be like many was "to be like..." -
Relating was a cosy thought

It was like that cool dime-sized scar on your elbow that you could show your friends to brag about your adventure
But instead of a healing arm you have a philosophy that needs to heal
This knotted idea, constructs tangled like a pair of earbud headphones you left in that near-useless right front 'pocketception'
And it will require patience
Patience and nimble fingers
That will someday hopefully be used to pluck a guitar to the soundtrack of your soul

I wanted to cut my heart
So I could craft it into a diamond
Refracting all the shades of pain the world has to offer, all the hues of hurt
Shades and hues that paint a portrait of my experiences
Sad indigos, angry crimsons, ***** onyx

I wanted jagged edges
That resembled a ninja star
That had been thrown in a wood chipper
Whose cuts were familiar to many
Whose veins were identical to none
I'd like to think the same pain flows through my veins
As that that flows through someone's
Mar 2018 · 87
Inspiration
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
I wrote
Better poetry
When you were
Chewing on my heart
Like a dog chews a bone
Sharpening its teeth
Mar 2018 · 125
the archaeologist
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
wind, water, and rhyme
brushed away the sands of time
like golden hair - fine
out of a lover's blue eyes

revealing glimpses
into the past
little chocolate heart-sized samples of a
lost civilization swallowed like pride

wonder struck and sowed a seed of curiosity
like one who just discovered knowledge
and the depth of its beauty
desiring to seek that forbidden fruit
knowing well what trap lies there

its beauty, divine and sparkling
a silver crown encrusted with sapphires
that begs one to look further
dig for all the treasure beneath

its beauty: but also worn and dull
like an over-washed, one-size-too-large t-shirt
not highlighting assets
instead drowning them in an ocean of grey

its beauty: where sweetness raffles
like eating trail mix
and its bitterness is cold, black coffee
some crowns are stained with impatience

brush a little more delicately
around the fragile artifacts
never digging too deep
for fear of fumbling it all

uncov'ring these time capsules
conditioned as they were
preserved by memory lapses
laps in a labyrinth

why do we seek
buried, ancient artifacts
instead of building new ones
with the plant that knowledge became?

why do we bury deep
our prized possessions
like a dog buries a bone?
- to dig them up later
Mar 2018 · 72
Complementary Love
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
pick me apart
like one of your spongy, sparkly, buds
put me out
like a cigarette in your
ash tray soul
stir with me your second favorite poison
Regret me the day after
And swear this swine you'll quit
The next Monday you remember
Mar 2018 · 53
Untitled
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
A guttural hatred
dwindles
dwells
digs further

i plucked the hair
but left the follicle,
sealed the surface
of a hollow, "Full."

i always move the ***
before it boils over
but i am not so sure
that i will keep my clover

perhaps it's not just luck
perhaps in fact it's skill
perhaps it's glass and rust
in the throne sits my will
Mar 2018 · 65
amber sunglasses
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
it doesn't matter the quality of the day
letting it fade out was one of my favorite past times
staying awake doing nothing
until your mind and body slipped into that foggy state
and it felt like seeing the world through
amber sunglasses
Mar 2018 · 66
Writer's Block
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
unwritten novel in my mind
autobiography of my much-sought-after
deep slumber
the ****** mystery of my sense of
purpose
And not a pen in sight
Mar 2018 · 63
Dear Father
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
I am my father's lost cause

To lose something one must first be in possession of it

To possess something one must be able to afford it

How can one afford what one does not know the value of?

How can one afford someone whose values they do not know?
Mar 2018 · 68
Hope pt.2
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2018
Relief is not
Too far from here
Tell me I'm not
Destined for years
Wasting my time
In all I've seen
Somehow losing sight
Of what strength means
The black 'mongst white
What must I give
To keep my might
So cheerful but grim
Feb 2018 · 77
Hope
Sour Patched Kid Feb 2018
The day has come where I am no longer
looking back at the sunsets behind me,
but to sunrises beyond, in wonder.
A smile ruptures across my face
like pavement fracturing from an earthquake,
and a hearty laugh bursts from my depths
with the pent-up force of a geyser.

And my world is shaken like a snow globe,
redistributing the beauty all around.
Sometimes falling can be delightful  -
like watching a violet and amber dusk.
Beauty always lies in contrast: rise and fall.
The sunrise is where tomorrow holds my lust.
Mar 2017 · 227
nirvana
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2017
i live for this moment
this
melting together of souls
that feels
how white noise sounds

we can cast our thoughts and feelings
into this ocean with ease

infinity is so serene

the undefined has no end.
Sour Patched Kid Feb 2017
he writes limericks.
and happy poems.
and even jokes.

i don't think I like him.

so I tracked him down.
used his username
to find his real name
and found his address

i walked up to his front door
on a dreary, Tuesday evening
knocked thrice
just to ask him why.

i asked him why he wrote
limericks, bright poems, and jokes.

"to pretend I'm not sad."
Fictional
Feb 2017 · 274
influence
Sour Patched Kid Feb 2017
plumped down in the shrieking worn chair
pulled my hunk of life-****
  out of my pocket
brewed up a ****** poem with my thumbs

i've traded informative book reading for
  'dank memes'

i need to get lost in a dank library for a
  while
away from all the life-****
Jan 2017 · 260
mime
Sour Patched Kid Jan 2017
i've come to learn
that they
become numb to
my cries
so often that they've
become deaf to
my whimpers

and i've
become hoarse from
my shouts
so often that i
become mute from
my whispers

after all
what can they do
to help
after
they've tried ev'rything?

after all
what can i do
to tell
after
i've tried ev'rything?

try some more

try.
Sour Patched Kid Nov 2016
pour your heart out
like the last 'fifth'
you've had too much
where's home from this?
Nov 2016 · 173
monster
Sour Patched Kid Nov 2016
almost funny how
one can read Nietzsche
and still
become the monster

stared too long into the abyss
without care

seductive void
i strut towards
it beckons me
sways its hips

hip deep, enamored
left behind my armor
lips creep to a smile
i've found my karma

i'm clawing my way back
limping the hairy path
oozing slime and blood
and hatred

now i'm most careful
avoiding mirrors
do not stare
i am the abyss

avoiding mirrors
do not stare
my reflection is Medusa
i am become monster
Nov 2016 · 489
evil
Sour Patched Kid Nov 2016
I am just as evil as you are.
That damming claws at my ev'ry choice,
but steadily I will hold the bar
and 'member my inner sound, my voice.

The call rings. I answer with virtue,
recalling reasons not to hurt you.
You spout your hate and project your pain;
pain - that chorus I will not refrain.

Sometimes I wince and curse the earth
and others I rinse and find rebirth.
Sometimes I lie the dead night awake
to try to burn before daylight breaks.

The saga lives, I'm tired of its tail.
I'm using all my strength to prevail.
The serpent slowly slithers around,
but again I bring the giant down.
Nov 2016 · 219
Untitled
Sour Patched Kid Nov 2016
she was broken
like sunlight french-kissing water,
refracting and reflecting
into dozens of colors
shades of blue and red and yellow
not everyone could see
or appreciate

without light,
a diamond is just another rock
Nov 2016 · 921
hell's hangout
Sour Patched Kid Nov 2016
i never drop my bread crumbs
when i sink this far below the skin
how can hell be humid
when naked of its kin?
i'm pawing for the walls
and grasping barely air
never bracing for the fall
i cannot seem to care

this cornerless void i alone exhale
- whatever i heir -
i resonate in the broken bricks,
this cobweb crypt to where
i drudgingly drag all my demons:
my bones - a cage, a lair

you'd reckon i'd learn
this thousandth time
that the undead
be they buried
never will they die

and never do they leave this crypt
- their home was once called mine -
how could they take residence
in all of my goodbyes?
Nov 2016 · 201
shadows
Sour Patched Kid Nov 2016
spider
crawled out from under that
cinder block
thought all was
safe
in the shadows

another shadow came
soon
all was dark
Jul 2016 · 194
the last time
Sour Patched Kid Jul 2016
you embrace
be it hands, arms, bodies
you say, "see you soon"
with such faith

you part ways
your relationship pauses
the rest of the world winds

i didn't know i would be
seeing you
for the last time.
Jul 2016 · 218
possession
Sour Patched Kid Jul 2016
you were never mine.
you will never be mine
you will always be yours

maybe one day
I'll be lucky enough
to be "mine"
lying next to you while
you're being "yours"
Jul 2016 · 1.2k
tinkerbell
Sour Patched Kid Jul 2016
she was a whirling merry-go-round
  shooting through outer space like an
  intergalactic firework

he was a grey pond where
  no life could be sustained

she floated when she walked like a
  snowflake in a gentle breeze

he called her tinkerbell

she turned all she touched to love
  setting fire to fear and
  sprouting hope through the
    salt-and-pepper piles of ash

he needed her like a
  flower needs a bee

she brought goldfish to his grey pond
  and lily pads
  and cat tails
  and shades of color
    warm and cold
  planting and painting a plentiful
    landscape

he now had this
  entire ecosystem
  inside of him
    living and breathing
    growing

she stole his heart
  to replace it with a
  habitat for love and art
Jul 2016 · 180
some kind of numb
Sour Patched Kid Jul 2016
all feels like death
except drugs and ***
feel like dying
Jul 2016 · 315
settle
Sour Patched Kid Jul 2016
i opened
the protein
shaker, huffed
it like
one huffs
glue, and
hissed, "this
wreaks like
someone took
all the
trash, stuffed
it in
a sauna,
and collected
the condensation
to soak
the shaker
in!" i
think i'll
use it
tomorrow morning.
Jun 2016 · 207
dancing the fine line
Sour Patched Kid Jun 2016
a celestial calm
entwined with
daylight veins
of
madness
sitting silently
no occupation
but to
wind and wind
my
clockwork motor
madness
just to grin stupidly
as it
waddles
'round the room.
Jun 2016 · 206
relative
Sour Patched Kid Jun 2016
a second light comes crawling
this time through the window,
reminding me I survived
another night wading
through the fiery lakes of hell,
naked as my soul on a cool night with a new love.

everything else is so easy.
it's all relative, isn't it?
and this is my reference point,
my floor.
Jun 2016 · 527
burden pt. 1
Sour Patched Kid Jun 2016
they give
their blessing
ask if
you're alright
not really
wanting to
know the
answer
because the
answer
might be
just what
they fear
and what
they fear
is that
they don't have the time
to hear
your cries
and not
be sunken
by them
they don't have the time
to lend
their compass
and not
lose their
own way
they don't have the time
to heal
a friend
a lover
a flesh-and-blood
who might
just feel
the same
as them
but
more gray
they have the time
to attend
a funeral
May 2016 · 273
Untitled
Sour Patched Kid May 2016
I peeled off her clothes like
the wrapper of a 100 Grand Bar
after a paleo diet
but still with the
tenderness
of critiquing a friend's
favorite song.

They floated to the floor like a
lost slip of paper
you wrote a phone number on

impacting with grace
inaudible over my
7-A.M.-residential-construction hammering heart.

Her figure was statuesque
in its rare elements of beauty,
and she felt right on my tongue
like the first time I tasted authentic
vanilla ice cream.

But she'd prefer gilato
and I'll have whatever she's having
so I hope I'm having nothing.
Sour Patched Kid May 2016
the prettiest picture i paint
is biting cold, grey steel
counting down to
my great relief,
wondering if my teeth
will shatter
before eight pounds of pressure
turns all my thoughts, desires, and memories
into
the prettiest picture i paint.
May 2016 · 293
Break
Sour Patched Kid May 2016
His head was caving in
  the way an aluminum can does
  when stomped with your heel.

The crunch cackled through his crumbling cranium.

The irony mocked him like
  a self-deprecating comedian
  who was all too sensitive.

He laughed at himself
(and cried inside)
His smile was a shelf
(on which he held his lies)

If he keeps holding
                                    he
                                          will
                                                  break.
May 2016 · 360
Math Genius
Sour Patched Kid May 2016
Some say
"Math is hard."
I grin
Hiding
Thinking
What I
Would give
To be
Able
To love
The way
Love ought
To be.
May 2016 · 231
Untitled
Sour Patched Kid May 2016
It is early in the morning.
The sun is turning the curtains that ugly, ***** hue.

I have not slept well in weeks.
My *** drive is dwindling.
*** walk.

I am beginning to wonder if anyone ever loved me,
running my tongue over a mouth sore.

I must be tired.
May 2016 · 241
Lost
Sour Patched Kid May 2016
I kissed her, my hair in our eyes.
I pulled back, mystified.
She made me feel poetry.
And her skin was poetry,
delicate and savory.
I was so inspired that
I couldn't find the words.
"Seeing that she's nearly a stranger,"
I thought,
"I'll have to show her later."

Her beach sand is sprinkled with fine sea shells.
I'll spend the evenings studying them all.

And I am a boy
who has never seen the ocean -
the vastness in her eyes that I
would love to get lost in.
Mar 2016 · 242
Self Destruction
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2016
For some, smoke screens.
Others see their reflections,
brush their finger tips through the rubble,
make friends with the debris.
Calloused palms hold broken glass,
washing cuts with poison.

In ashes their hearts lye.
Mar 2016 · 294
way
Sour Patched Kid Mar 2016
way
there's ice on the windshield,
overlapping, mirroring itself in an array like scales.

i scrape and scrape and scrape;
the ice would still remain.

it distorts.
hazards look like brakelights.
"Is something wrong?"
pedestrians resemble road signs.
"To where are you guiding me?"
road markings... nothing.
"Have I gone too far?"

i dare not try to change lanes
for fear of crashing
and bursting into a crowd of yellow and red octopuses that hug like a bloom.

but the warmth wouldn't reach me.
it wouldn't even melt the ice.
if the fire were on the inside,
the ice would still remain,
sealing me inside,
keeping me inside,
keeping me safe,
keeping the world safe...

i can't find my way.
bloom (n.) - a group of jellyfish
Feb 2016 · 372
Accidental Plagiarism
Sour Patched Kid Feb 2016
Sometimes when my pencil does scurry
Inside me stirs a worry
Is this mine or not? It is, surely.
Finished is the flurry.
Feb 2016 · 605
smiles
Sour Patched Kid Feb 2016
people write poems comparing
smiles to sunsets and rain
and stars and meteor showers

eclipsing entirely that sunsets give way to the charcoal wraith of night
rain riddles the most novel of metals
supernovas sink entire galaxies
and meteors are just meteorites with less ambition

but what about earthquakes
and black holes
and wildfires

rib rattling
song swallowing
too close for comfort

what once warmed us to our core now leaves us in embers

and still we burn for more
Nov 2015 · 322
'Lo(ne) and (be)held
Sour Patched Kid Nov 2015
Tell me my wounds are beautiful
And that the pain I feel is justified
Prove the pen is not my only friend
Sew me up and sit a while, be my time
The voice in my head won't fill full
We'll cry until we're numb as iced
Oct 2015 · 465
041815
Sour Patched Kid Oct 2015
Solemn, somber,
do you ever wonder?
What dreams we've lost
what was the cost?
We gave up all we had.
to our hearts we played faithful
to our hearts that were frail.
I'm smiling but I'm sunken
seldom slumber, awakened
these nightmares, we will shake them.

This haunting will fade,
this everlasting, forbade
from the grand sleep
a phantom, a shade
Whispering, a wick
burning slowly in the dark

Minutes mumbled
seconds slurred
time was timid and blurred
furlongs faded
miles masqueraded
and light years - what's the word?
Next page