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 Sep 2019
avalon
curse like a ******* sailor,
wear a bikini,
move to Europe,
get at least 2 tattoos,
pierce myself a few more times,
learn three new languages (just so i can curse three more ways)
buy a bird,
live in NYC,
kiss someone i don't love,
kiss someone who doesn't love me,
love myself & my mistakes,
have empathy for my past self,
and hope for the future
(where i hopefully own a snake)
 Sep 2019
avalon
i am a small girl and many think i am harmless. i am disarming. i am smiles and laughter and the way your eyes look when you feel understood. i am the light in your irises.

i am a small girl and many think i am harmless. i am charming. i am small touches on your cheekbones and feeling your fingers interlacing through mine. i am the warmth of a lie.

i am a small girl and many think i am harmless. i am alarming. i am your heartbeat when it falters in your chest. i am regret. i am the shaking of your voice and your hands when the anger inside you coats your lips and tongue in red.

i am harming. i am salt in a wound that i created, the only cure that keeps disease aggravated, shards of glass in the water that keeps you alive.

you thought i was harmless. i lied.
 Sep 2019
Alaska Young
life is a never ending series of
"I'll figure it out."
 Sep 2019
kain
This will be the year
Of all of my mistakes
These walls will fall
With my dignity
I'm a disaster
Exploding in slow motion
Can't make up my mind
Can't make up anything
Crashing like a train
Derailing swiftly
Giving out my number
******* myself
To the whole city
This chaos knows
Nothing of mercy
My blind eyes know
Nothing of the truth
Just this downward spiral
The desecration
Of my troubled youth
I'm in a car, a really ****** junker. I'm in the front seat, but I'm not the one driving. The girl behind the wheel looks like me, but she isn't. I don't know who she is. We're speeding down the highway at night, at seventy miles per hour. I keep begging her to slow down, but if she listens, she doesn't let it show. The blacktop is empty for us, but we don't need someone else to cause us to crash. We are our own dynamite. We're hurtling through this frantic void, broken by streetlights. I'm quiet now, but I'll start screaming soon, and the radio will play nothing but my worst nightmares. We're going to crash. We're going to crash. Oh my g
 Sep 2019
Vic
Yeah, You're really easy to write about. Some people are hard to capture. Not because they aren't 'deep,' but because they just don't have that thing. That thing that makes you turn your head around again becuase you just want to have another look at those eyes. Maybe this will help explain. You have people, and some of those people are really good at writing. And some aren't. Now imagine if you take a really good writer, and someone who struggles with it, to write a poem that captures the beauty and feeling of, for example, a broken window. Someone who's good at writing, good at seing the beauty and the broken in things, can write it down with so much ease. On the contrary, someone who doesn't see it, it's way harder to write everything just about right down. I feel like I'm one of those people who can turn everything into poetry. And you said, you never expected someone to write about you. But I know, and I'm sure of it, that if you ever met another poet, they'd write about you too. Because every poet I know, would turn their head around too.
I sound stupid af but this dumb **** needed to get out.
 Sep 2019
kain
5AM
Renegades
Passing days
Falling apart
In harmony
A catalytic
Cacophony
Of ugly words
And her
Disastrous
Poetry
 Sep 2019
Brandon Conway
A person goes out to town to cure
Boredom or loneliness
Often looking to conquer both

Even an introvert wants company
It’s taken six years to go search

I found a coffee shop
With a black box room

I took a seat
And waited for the host
To start the show
Improv comedy
Never been to one of those

The host asked
What’s inside this invisible box
Answers came out from the audience

I said a can of worms
Not loud
I hate attention
But the host heard
And chose that can of worms

Someone listened to me
And now they are making
Me my own personal joke

I got to admit
I was jealous
Each member has conquered
The fear of people
Of being in front of people
Of speaking to people
Acting crazy in front of people

The show was great
We all had a laugh
One day I will thank them
And maybe one day
I’ll join on that stage

Just one foot in front of the other
Next week is a poetry reading
And that’s where I’ll be
found the secetuers

in the bag with the

clippings

noted the weight was

not right

the room is lighter

now

the memory is settling

my mind is quieter

will write of it all in

stages

6.19 am

battery three quarters
 Sep 2019
r
Somewhere, someplace
I lost my way along
the way, searching for
the extraordinary
forgetting the more simple
things, the everyday ordinary
like the words for a bird’s
heartbeat, the color of water
in an estuary, the calligraphy
of the grocery list, an apostrophe
like an old man picking cotton
a woman long forgotten
drowned in the vagueness
of the ocean, a blind poet
comparing the sun to a rose
light slipping through blinds
hidden behind silk curtains
burdens born by mothers
worn and weary, left alone
the name for vines that grow
on silent children’s stones.
oil pond mirrors the darkness the november

day                  sun draws white against the grey

this       leaf  lays on earth

there is no god

not hungry nor otherwise



you look at me straight and ask the past

and briefly I say & say there is no god



you did not smile nor shout you are the deadest thing

dead down .              no smiling  despite birds gone  by



on greasy wings                       .i remember your look

your face

drawn grey as mourning doves

that remind

for me there is no god
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