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 Nov 2014
Ember Evanescent
Wouldn't it be nice
If you didn't mess up
everything you touch
But there you go again
You lose three one year
one at a time
the next year you drive off
another three all at once
then the next year you start to neglect another
you start slipping further away from three
then the next year
you lose those you were slipping away from
and pretty soon
the only one you are still close to
you drive off too
hope you like your new friends
but good luck replicating those late night text convos
where we really could trust each other
when all the friends you have now
are drunk and high as hell
I hate that *****.
 Nov 2014
Makena Greer
I learned today that for eyes to be like oceans they don't have to be blue
I didn't think it was possible to drown in brown
 Nov 2014
Ember Evanescent
Me when I'm ******:

Stage 1: Politely nodding and smiling. Thinking: Omfg shut up.

Stage 2: Staring at them blankly. Thinking: I'm gonna **** myself.

Stage 3: Clenched jaw and glaring. Thinking: I'm gonna **** YOU

Stage 4: Completely lost it, revving chainsaws (no accident that I pluralized chainsaws) and burning **** down, the town is in ruins and I am evilly cackling insanely and raiding chocolate stores. *Thinking: MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
no. I do not have anger management issues. now ******* before I stomp you into the ground and chase you with a sledgehammer

lol if anyone wants to do one like this about their stages of pissedness I'd love to read it ;)
 Nov 2014
Silence Screamz
I sleep, I dream in a pitch black world
Canvas made of cotton, blood soaked and soiled

I dream not in color but many shades of gray
Pulse is risen sharply, time to go and play

Visions I see of horror, creeping in the dark
Shadows in every corner,  time to leave it's mark

Strapped down with failed emotions, I fell down in a violent  blunder
I hear the hooves of  horses, rolling crazy thunder

Can't wake up, from this nightmarish pain
Knocked down the door, hear me screaming again
 Nov 2014
Ember Evanescent
I am very good at lying to everyone but my friends





These are Sinful talents you have that are really not something you should be proud of but you are actually very good at it like breaking in places, smuggling things (even if it is just smarties into the movie theater), and other random things. PLEASE feel free to add to this series post a poem and just label it "Sinful Talents (series)" and message me and I will repost it :) also include the hashtag sinfultalents
These are Sinful talents you have that are really not something you should be proud of but you are actually very good at it like breaking in places, smuggling things (even if it is just smarties into the movie theater), and other random things. PLEASE feel free to add to this series post a poem and just label it "Sinful Talents (series)" and message me and I will repost it :) also include the hashtag sinfultalents
Little moist drops of heaven
       Trickling down my throat
    The heavenly burn,
                   delicious
Synonymous with an Angel's wings
               fluttering in my esophagus
     Liquid lightning, striking
          Almost blasphemous
 A devilish game of Russian Roulette
              With four shot glasses,
   Three rogues and one gent
Emotions getting looser
    Clothing getting tighter
           The taste becoming
     Sweeter
          Liquefied demon tears
Playing a wicked game
            with my insides
    Putting a beautiful curse on my mind
             Melted Whiskey Raindrops
     Sending shivers down my spine
           This hellish war of love, hate and
                    Intoxication
   Has never felt so
                  *Divine
 Nov 2014
Carolin
Dip my broken wings
into your heavy black
ink. Kiss my cranberry
coloured chapped lips
and grab onto my hips.
Ride me like a dragon
with fiery breath. Let
me touch you and watch
you turn ruby red. I'll wrap
you in my black angelic wings
instead of getting out of your
bed. You my love are who
brought me back from the
dead* ~
 Nov 2014
Ember Evanescent
The edges of whispers tell more than the words
Tracing the secrets of echoing lies
It's hard to hear it over the silence
But I can see snowflakes in your eyes
idk
 Nov 2014
Ena Alysopriono
Dear Dexter,

All of your poems are filled with hatred with a deep underlying pain. You convey messages of undeserved hurt through your poems so well I am hurting with you.

Every poem is beautiful, no matter how dark the subject. There is even a beauty to the raw, ugly ones that show truth.

I chose a few of my favourite lines and responded to them.

“Everyone was so consumed in their own sadness that they failed to notice mine.”

You have been noticed. All of your poetry is amazing, but it breaks my heart. I can relate to your feeling of being overlooked. When everyone has their problems and you try to say something about yours, but no one has the time to here them and eventually you just fade into the background. No one has to be entirely alone. even if you only reach out to people on hello poetry, there are people here, myself included that care a lot about other people’s pain and through poetry you can feel it so much clearer than you can in conversation.

“Your self worth
runs even deeper.”

You make a poem about self hate sound hopeful with these lines. It is supportive and beautiful.

”because how do you tell someone 
who has never shed a drop of blood in 
their life,
that every part of you is bleeding.”

These lines break my heart. They are so full of pain and truth. It is really astounding poetry.

“because no matter 
the number
on the scale, 
you will still
call me at 3am,
begging for a 
reason to live.”

You capture the human nature so well. We have feelings that run deeper than instincts, think beyond logic and explanation, but when it comes down to it, we still have a survival instinct, that begs us not to **** ourselves.

“Stop making the hurt you feel sound cool and trendy. 
Tell the world what it's truly like
because lately people have sewn the words 
"Beauty" and "pain" into a cute little pink sweater in white lace.”

These words are so true. It seems like everyone is romanticizing pain, instead of discouraging people to follow in those footsteps.  I know that there is no one in the world who would wish this upon their little brother or sister, son or daughter, friend, any relative. It is a pain no one should experience and it should never be advertised. I think you capture this in your poem/rant very well.

Dexter,

I feel your pain, you cynicism about the world, your hope that shows up even in some of the darkest of poems. I don’t know you except from your poetry, but it seems that life has been cruel. I sincerely hope that life decides to stop being such a ******* and turns around for you, soon. I believe that things will get better, for anyone who suffers anything, if you give it a chance. I think you have waited long enough and deserve something good now. You are a good person, you care about others, I can see it in your poem, Pain isn’t Beautiful which is entirely true and I have seen people making pain seem desirable. Your words ring truth and support for people who are suffering. Keep writing.

Love,
Ena
For those of you who have not read some of Dexter's work, you definitely should.
There once was a totally wasted sloth named Erk.
He decided he wanted to learn how to twerk.
We told him it was dumb,
But he was drunk on ***,
So died trying when he fell to his death out of the tree although it was okay because he always was a ****.
sorry the last line is a little long.
 Nov 2014
Tom Leveille
here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty
 Nov 2014
Ember Evanescent
I guess I don't exactly know what I want to be
I don't know what I think the definition of physical beauty is
Because there are people I see with very flouncy curly and glistening golden blonde hair
Then I see Asian girls with their glossy raven black locks
I see girls with STUNNING blue eyes
And girls with magnificent hazel eyes
I see two of my friends who have brown eyes like me, only they have these BEAUTIFUL maple eyes
I see girls with heart-shaped jawline
I see girls with rounder jawlines
I see girls with tiny waists
And curvy girls
I see girls with cute little smiles
And bright, wide grinning smiles
ALL OF THEM ARE SO BEAUTIFUL
I don't even know WHAT I want to be
I just know that I wish there were a celebrity
Who existed
Who was WILDY adored and loved by everyone
Who was successful and never criticized
Who was not necessarily UGLY
But was undeniably not particularly traditionally physically pretty
But her soul was LOVELY
Her personality was imperfect
And she ******* up
But she was still a GOOD PERSON
and her values and what was inside her was what made her so globally popular
Because maybe if I stopped seeing everybody as so unbelievably BEAUTIFUL
then I would stop CARING that I was so hideous
I just really wish
"Pretty" didn't have a definition
But varied
You could look at someone
And what each person found pretty
Was COMPLETELY different
because I care way too much
because I hate hearing that I am "pretty" when I so clearly am not
but it's even worse when I hear that I'm not
Or if someone edges around it by saying: But you are a beautiful person INSIDE
avoiding admitting that I'm ugly
I hate hearing about how ugly I am
because it reminds me
but I also hate hearing about how supposedly "pretty" I am
because immediately in my head
that little voice that sounds exactly like my own
except very cruel and sadistic
The mean-streak part of me
It whispers in my mind
THEY ARE LYING TO YOU
YOU ARE UGLY AND HIDEOUS
AND NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO CARE ABOUT WORTHLESS YOU.
BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT WHAT SOCIETY DEFINES AS PRETTY
YOU ARE WORTHLESS AND UGLY.
DON'T LISTEN TO THEIR PROMISES THAT YOU ARE PRETTY
BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT.
that is all I hear in my head.
or if I hear OH BUT YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL PERSON INSIDE THAT IS MORE IMPORTANT
the voice whispers: did you recognize that? Hear it? See it?
They specifically avoided saying you were physically pretty
So whether they are right or not about what is more important, inner or outer beauty
They have still admitted to you
In an underhanded way
That you ARE ugly
they have confirmed what I have always told you
YOU ARE NOT PRETTY
YOU NEVER WILL BE
and do you know what?
I don't care anymore about what is important
I want to be physically beautiful
It's like when you just really want cake
it might be unhealthy
It might not matter
It isn't good to obsess over
but you JUST WANT IT
you want it so badly
and you can't function properly without it
until you have that desire given in to
but I can't tell them that anymore
so they don't have to lie to me to spare my feelings which makes me feel awful
or so they don't have to be honest and either tell me I'm ugly or edge around it by bringing up inner beauty and using a BUT before it
because that makes me feel even WORSE
I will not talk about it anymore
I will just let it dominate my poetry
because I must write
I must WRITE to keep it from consuming me
that is all I have
If I can't speak of the pain anymore
I must write.
that is my escape.
feel free not to read this. it is pretty **** long and mostly it is just me needing to get something out. it's really just my form of release, not for it to be actually GOOD poetry. because it is really not. but if you can relate then hey, great :)
yeah... I don't know what is wrong with me.
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