Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2012 · 645
Dylan Rodrigue Jul 2012
uncontrollable splatter! I cannot hold in the ball of black accumulating growth any longer
EXPLOSION! my body is now all over the room
thoughts are the trigger. one after another.
it brought me from that place to this.
and now, what? a confused platter of what is and what was
All my entrails are my dish tonight and guess what's for dessert?
my soul. and I eat it up without hesitation.
tastes like chicken and now I can embody that something something something that is myself.
tomorrow i'll eat you.
Jul 2012 · 744
dodge ball
Dylan Rodrigue Jul 2012
you hear the same words I say but they mean something completely different than what you think
complement becomes attack, love pat becomes slap in the face
now one drink becomes ***** run
now this game is no fun
dodging those bullets or making them stop in mid air, neither will occur
now say what you mean and I'll try to do the same
Dylan Rodrigue Jun 2012
I got the job
It was the logical thing to do
Sweet sweat dripping down from face to chest, from chest to groin
From groin to thigh, from thigh to toe

I can consolidate this liquid in a jar and trade it for nighttime pleasures
The things we were told never to do are now the luxuries that keep us going
Something green, something brown, something resulting in the "stench" that the neighbors complain about
But I got the job so I can indulge in such cruelties

Silly financial problems creating stress resulting in overindulgence thus causing more financial problems
I can see the cycle emerge and I feel helpless and vulnerable
But no, no, no! Life is what you make it! A paradise, a jail cell, a flower, a hole...
I'll go with the flower, I shall feed it water even if it appears withered and dry

It may take a year, it may take a decade, it may take a lifetime, but you will bloom, my dear flower,
YOU WILL BLOOM! bloom, bloom, and blossom! BLOSSOM!
May 2012 · 966
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
and she wants to be wanted
no, not held, not loved, but wanted
perhaps those things too, at some point, but for now... wanted
and it plays out like a little TV show, a soap opera
little miss Jane, going insane, not sure if she should take the evening train
and yes, it's the comfort of thoughts of "me" consuming someone else's mind
thoughts of me consuming someone else's mind
thoughts of
May 2012 · 387
"Give it your all, kid"
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
Give it your all, kid
It's the lesson you learn when all the love you took for granted withers and ultimately dies
But... Give it your all? one of those stupid phrases you hear and wish they'd just shut the **** up
Then, finally you have that one experience, that one click that brings you back to what they taught you: what you never gave two ***** about
Now it makes since because it's you who has done the learning
If it's going to be experienced, it better be EXPERIENCED
You want love? Give love. You want happiness? Share happiness.
You want hate? Hate your neighbor and he will ******* hate you back, you ******* ****.
May 2012 · 19.5k
naughty, naughty
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
It's the cookies in the cookie jar
I want that which makes me feel naughty, like I'm doing something wrong
A sudden ****** of lustful pleasure, then quietly placing the cap back on the glass
Now something is gone that was there before and I have won
Lets see how many times this game can be played before someone gets hurt...
May 2012 · 513
ReMinder (This is Om)
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
stop and breathe again. something we forget.
everythings okay. everythings okay. e-ver-eee-thing-z o-kaay
the mantra rings like a church bell hanging from my arm.
it says, "the trial is only followed by a phat party!"
wakes up in a pool of his/her **** and *****.
must've been a good night. or just dumb. probably both.
no more apologies. no more clamping onto the ship for dear life.
no more breakdowns and no more pointing fingers.
This is Om. **** it and swallow it. It tastes like now, it tastes like forever.
maybe it burns but its the milk that keeps me going.
Flowing from the eye in the middle, the joy re-enforces the truth.
May 2012 · 549
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
you love the angry songs, but it's different if it's about you.
you hate the love songs, but it's different if it's for you.
rub it. rub that **** stain into the carpet so no one will notice it was ever there.
we all do.
May 2012 · 400
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
we laugh.
but we don't forget.
it's all up there.
built up back there.
something sticky. something moving up the throat, down the throat, about to sink in, about to spew out.
scream, sigh and ultimately... laugh.
May 2012 · 698
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
The smack lays his warm hands on you
And though you hate him, now you bow
Like the slave submits himself to the word of the king
Because he knows the punishment for rebellion will be too much to handle

Now the smack won't let go of you because you had faith in the "one-time-thing".
May 2012 · 547
Do the Death Plop
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
Give me something. What is this? **** me up.
White as the powder filling the void of your nostrils.
Light, light, light it up. A serge of energy KERRPLOP!!! let's ****.
With water I came, with water I will flood back out. This is a flow, stop and go.
Back to pre-school. All circles, circles, circles...
There goes, there goes, there goes denial. There goes regret.
Miss Acceptance sitting on my door step, giving me the wink, shaking off her heals, offering a brownie, begging for a quick one while Mr. Wakeuptime is away, spreading the bleak truth.
When he comes back I'll burn one down. Maybe he digs.
If not, then I'll walk up them invisible stairs until that little hatch in the clouds reveals itself and opens for me to ******* on Elvis Presley!
May 2012 · 1.2k
2 decades (Everythings Okay)
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
2 decades and it almost feels like another midlife crisis
My head was too big to come out of mommy's ******
Letter C in the stomach, out pops the baby covered in muck
But I wasn't sad to be here. I was ready.

Now the baby has ****** hair.
******* on a cigarette instead of a *** or a thumb.
Things have changed and everything is the same
There was a message I forgot as I was being lifted out of the large round belly
Something I somehow reclaimed much later...
"Everythings Okay," said the Eye on May 14, 1992.
May 2012 · 400
From A to B
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
If only all these perfect words that I have been tearing my hairs out to find, would stumble off my tongue, out of my mouth and fly through the air to land safely in your ears. A mutual moment of absolute understanding.
But those words, those perfect beautiful words are getting trapped on the roof of my mouth and what comes out on the other end is a message incomplete.
It's like telephone.
My message was "I love you" but the sound distorted as it was passed around the circle, from head to head, whisper to giggle to whisper. It came out, "I HUFF GLUE!"
We lost it, somewhere from A to B.
May 2012 · 662
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
Is it you that I'm missing or am I missing myself?
Always hanging on to something while distracted by something else
Got a message from God, he said, "BE YOURSELF"
Wearing a mask is never good for your health

I never meant to hurt nobody but we all make mistakes
It's hard to sit back and watch as all that we created breaks
Makes me so **** tired of all those rotten takes
And all the damage that the blind love makes

And it brings you to life, and gets you so high
But then you fall so low, with nowhere to go, start over again

And I recall so well the view from the top
On the bridge looking down, finding reasons not to drop
With all them lexapros that made my feelings stop
adis and zanis cleaned me up like a mop

But love is so tender, it can't help but be torn
In the middle December where this coat ain't keeping me warm
So I weight it out in a puff of scorn
... it's only fair to warn
There is Something missing.........
Then you fall so low, with nowhere to go, start over again.
May 2012 · 719
This is Birthday
Dylan Rodrigue May 2012
Where did this start and when will it end?
I step closer. Reaching. Trip on my own shoelaces.
Head curls under, trying to find a warm home in the sidewalk crack.
It's a love thing. Let it shower and let it whither softly.
As the seasons change I can feel the clear weightless shift.
Never stopping, never never never returning the same.
Out of bounds? Back into the core of being.
No, this is not lonely. There is festivity. There are balloons.
This is birthday.

— The End —