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 Feb 2019
Chris
PG
Why do we need PG?
It's an ******* reality.
What will a child see?
*** and violence on TV?
There's *** and violence plenty more,
In schools, in alleys behind the store.
So let your children know the ropes,
So that you don't raise a corpse.
Let your children see ******* and killing, because it's natural. And kids, go, ****, don't wait until marriage, married *** ***** ***.
 Feb 2019
Savanna
Drip drip drip,
My love slides between your lips.
Sweet honey,
Your hands, soft on my hips.
Don’t waste it,
My mom would tell me not to waste it.
Hazy in your love,
Do you like the taste of it?
Entangled,
Your skin with drops of cold night dew.
A whisper to myself
I won’t tell you but, I like the taste of you
 Feb 2019
taylor styles
you told me i was pretty,
but you said i looked prettier on my knees.
 Feb 2019
renea lee
in the infernal uproar of possibilities when the universe halted an alternative course of movement (to which eternity might be possible in a cosmic place as a confirmation congruent to a derivative of consciousness), there lies an ephemeral mind; at a certain point in time being, who thinks that everything will be plausible in a galaxy of transcendence.

if a particle moves alongside this ephemeral consciousness to which it caused a disturbance, every particle of the latter might be in flux.

[you are that particle]

and if and when, in a conscious state of space and time you sporadically moved and pulled the orbit to which i constantly managed to retain the equilibrium, then should the universe permit us to drift into the internal immobility of togetherness, we became infinitesimal--
but only through the metaphysics of time being.

[at least we had]

(03/09/17)
 Feb 2019
Ian
A cold and shackled figure,
Hardly a husk of what once would be,
In the mirror it reflects a creature,
No human would ever care to see.

So distant from all other life,
The isolation has become a defense,
From the twisted world of the living,
So filled with overwhelming strife.

Standing solemn, eyes cast to the dirt,
Shackles secured firmly to the rock,
The birds surround his prison to mock,
The exiled being, and his surrender to suffering.

Alas, with frantic flapping they depart,
A gentle hand presses to the imprisoned heart,
The chains turn to sand and drop him free,
Eyes gazing up to his savior to be.

With stars for eyes, and the cosmos for hair,
How did his troubles turn her to care,
As she came down from her heavenly realm,
To bless such a meager, humble life?

He rose to his feet and without thought, mirrored her,
His hand, to her heart,
"This heart is yours, and yours to keep,
Hold it ever close and find love, limitless and deep."
 Feb 2019
Madame Vai
Fantasy is merely a hungover version of reality, unbarred and subject to the whim of the dreamer

Loosely tethered to existence between a life we wish upon ourselves and a dissatisfied ego

For he who rejects this ideal reveals a falsity in his perception

And he who believes these mistruths that is found undeserving of confidence
 Feb 2019
Rafał
We praise the broken pictures
And hail the holy scriptures
Inhale the superstitions
Stare into shiny mirrors

No matter what your fear is
Let me guide you by appearance
As the place that we live in
Is bleakly mysterious

A mistful satisfaction
I’m shivering from the tension
All by myself I’m dancing
In futile comprehension

Does that make make you anxious?
Under the microscopic lenses
All we are is a fairly transient
Bunch of aliens, barely sentient

Is this a worthwhile desire
To seek for a world to admire?
Is this what I want
Or is my brain a liar?
So I keep up a smile
And it’s been working wonders
Whether I’m feeling content
Or I’m hiding in dark corners
 Feb 2019
Tiger Striped
since we learned to speak, we have only
spat out the words before us
repeating remarks we hear and see
with impotent intonation;
the pretense to make it our own
we are watery reflections
longing to move freely, by ourselves;
to feel the wind whip wildly 'round
to scrape our knees on uneven ground
but we lie on the surface,
repetition rippling through our shallow skin
perhaps, one day, we shall learn
to stand
and to create
 Feb 2019
Abagail Marie
MJN
I guess after a while it did stop hurting.
A few months, then a year..
I’ve been trying to get a grip, but
It doesn’t mean I don’t need you here.

Anytime I listen to metal,
Or when I’m staring blankly across the room.
I get this pit inside my chest,
You left me much too soon.

No one is ever ready to lose someone,
Nothing will ever prepare you.
It doesn’t just get easier,
I’ve just become numb too.

When I say it “stopped hurting,”
I just mean that I’m empty.
I wish that I could’ve saved you,
I didn’t see the cries until you left me.

The day I heard, I fell into myself.
I was working and began to cry.
I had to leave the office that day,
I’m pretty sure you probably saw why.

Somedays I imagine you’re still here,
Joking with me about the old days.
I wish I could still talk to you,
Or push you in the hallway.

Missing you comes in waves,
Most days I am doing alright.
Other days not so much,
That’s why I’m crying here tonight.
Missing you Michael
 Jan 2019
Kenji King
"Do you have a lighter? Am I dancing **** yet? Are you watching me because I move alone?"
Well, look a little harder, because as glass reflects on me I reflect back revealing the other side of me.
Two-sided.
She dances with ease.
Do you feel the pain because it's pain that I unleash.
I am the inner workings of your mutability.
I switch up as I am never at true peace.
Look at me, watch me...
Feed on me as I feed onto you.
The perplexities of my intentions are at it's core when I move.
Lost, but just a crazy ***** with the master ability to play with your mind baby.
Do you see it?
I do.
And she's nasty.
Taste her, lick her, **** her.
She's the dark side of me and she's waiting to play.
Tear me up like I'm your doll and grasp onto my insides like the strings have been attached so the grip cannot lose itself in your sins of your sinful embellishment.
Dress me up, move me.
You are my puppet and I only want to tease your mind.
**** me like a twist of your mad insanity.
Play with me.
Taste me, and watch me because, I move alone.
 Jan 2019
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
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