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here's the price for playin with fire
I'm the dealer you're the buyer

one way ticket to hell
i sense your eagerness, i know it well

STOPPIN FOR PASSENGERS

get some rush thru your vein
here i am to step up the game

okay sit back relax
check your arms .. their full of tracks

moving on to your femoral vein
a 5 mill needle gonna rush your brain

watch out for the DVT
the NHS amputate for free

sit back and enjoy the ride
you're about to lose all your pride

you just handed it to me
i ain't finished yet ... you will see

here i am to make you hurt
as I grind your life into the dirt

(C) MANDY RIGBY 23.06.214
Buy me ripped skinny jeans
And feed me LSD
Maybe then I'll be happy

Earlier this night I traveled down memory lane
Please call my friend Mary Jane
She'll help me forget

I'm in this ****** life I know I'll never win
Unless I get my veins full of heroine  

I don't even know how to keep myself sane
Without a hit of *******

All I ever wanted was to leave behind a legacy
But the thing is I no longer feel the ecstasy
That's supposed to be lingering in my ways

I'm in no position to pretend that I'm holy
Especially when I'm always seen
With my good friend Molly

Cause who am I to avoid all this
I'm just a sad lonely teen
Feeling psychedelic
so i have no idea whatsoever if this poem is nice and i just hope people will like it. please like and comment what you think. thanks!
  Jun 2014 Génesis Rodríguez
Jessie
It is a growing issue
that the amount of metaphors
never used before by the hand of man
is decreasing significantly
and needs to be addressed soon
because the number of poets appearing
out of nowhere
is increasing exponentially
because we all want to
compare our love to the wind
forever competing
for self entitled originality
and instant gratification
until all we have left in this world
is cliche
after cliche
after cliche.
Where will we find ourselves
when we find out
all the words are taken?
Echoing in a room of memories
Struggling to understand themselves
Words stuck on a ruined tongue
Aiming to become anew
Benefits of a scam
Of a game
Of a plan
But the benefits of a failure?
That's one to undermine your proficiency
Not excluding the fact that your allocation of thoughts are all over the place
Varying off center
Unintended
But carried efficiently
Like the assumption of happiness
Of trust and honesty
Subtle hints that should not be ignored
Regardless of the fact that you're in another's door
And i'm highlighting the points that should have stood out
The warnings
The symbols
Screaming, get out.
This is not a slam
Yes it is, go slam poetry
I've spent restless nights writing poems to and about you with heavy eyelids; poems you'll never read, poems I'll never have the guts to let you read, poems you'll never even know about.
I've described every single part, perk, quality of you with the most beautiful words I can find in the dictionary because you don't deserve simple, ordinary words.
Even your flaws are beautiful.
And still, I cannot string any of the million words in any language together to describe you or my love for you perfectly.
And I write about you like you sank your paintbrush in a cup of universe and created hundreds of galaxies; like you placed the stars in the sky, neatly arranged them into beautiful constellations.
Here is yet another poem for and about you, written with eyelids as  heavy as the ocean at 3:36 in the morning, after deciding there was no way I could sleep as my mind was still awake and thinking about you- as always.
I hope you went to sleep thinking about me.
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