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Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
I want you to punch me in the face as many times as You can without hurting yourself...
I don't want to hurt you, I just want to have a reason to feel the way I do.
I feel beat.
Beaten...whichever.
I am.
I lost to myself, which is a kind of funny story but It's not funny at all. I'm ******* crazy I'm ******* insane, I'm ******* hilarious,
I'm ******* sick and tired of the day to day stress trying to turn me into a diamond in 30 minutes or less!
You can't make beauty that quick.
I don't know what brought me here.
I don't know what will take me home.
I don't know where my home is!
I once heard that home is where you're heart is.
But I don't have one of those either! It was ripped from me, broken in two and made into a cheap friendship bracelets given to two girls who would later lose them and each other.
Shortly after i wrote this poem a girl gave me half of a friendship heart with a *** leaf on it that said budz. She said "Destroy this for me." I kept it because now i have a best bud that i don't know. But i just thought it was crazy how relevant the situation was to this poem.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
Wake up
Wake the **** up!
Resurrect your bones from the piles
Of ash and resin that make up the weekdays
Weak days are some days
Sunday's are when's day
Wednesday is today
And Tuesday I'm sleeping in.

When I rise
I'll slump into my costume
And try my best to illustrate a smile
That's a mile long
So I can coast on my makeshift happiness
For just a minute longer
Until I need to bust out the crayons
And start drawing again
not sure if i've decided if this is finished or not. but so far...
Marcus Neeley Dec 2014
I sit here.
Lips stained with cigarettes.
I don't know what to do.
My mind has been clouded.
Unhinge my scalp and breath in.
My soul trembles at my fingertips.
Paper cuts under my nails.
I bleed love.
My problems are tangled in my hair.
I can't shave it cause I'm supposed to be an adult.
I pack my fears into a briefcase.
My eyes heat my bedroom.
The fire you started didn't go out after you left.
I extinguish sadness with numbness.
My bed is a cave.
I have been frozen in its glaciers.
To cold to move.
Save me.
Marcus Neeley Nov 2014
My pillow case knows what crying yourself to sleep tastes like
And my shower echoes every life changing thought I've ignored.
Underneath empty dishes,
Abandoned rellos,
Vacated cigarette packs,
Miscellaneous knick knacks
And a game boy color
Is a desk.
And on that desk are millions of scratches
Recording the lonely thoughts of a crowded mind.

Eat the flesh off my fingertips
To erase my finger prints
Cause I don't know who the **** I am.
Marcus Neeley Aug 2014
I smoked my last cigarette today and boy did it taste just like all the others.
It tasted Like 8 minutes by yourself
Like the last thing you do before you go inside every night
Like short conversations
Like the cold air you force yourself into
when winters lingers like the smoke on your fingertips.
Like the **** you have to take afterwards
Like the ashy kisses we force onto our loved ones
Like burned upholstery in our cars
Like forcing a deep breath
Like headaches
Like nausea
Like all the ******* reason I used to justify the socially accepted suicide we sell in our gas station!
Like stress
Like sadsness
Like temporary relief
And Like permanent destruction
It tasted,
Like the color black.

I smoked my last cigarette today
And boy,
Did it taste just like the rest.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
If you want attractive lips, speak meticulously cause I love the way the words dance out of your mouth.

If you want astonishing eyes, **** the clouds out that make them gray. I used to see sunshine in there not rainstorms.

If you want a flat stomach, stop feeding into the negativity this world offers you. You walk into candy shops with shelves of gossip, ******, and despair. You though you didn't have a sweet tooth But you do!

If you want those wrinkles to go away, go to sleep. Because it's our dreams that keep us young and our nightmares that keep us strong! Don't be afraid.
Marcus Neeley Jan 2015
Everything just feels so broken.
I brush yesterday's dust off my shoulders,
But for what?
If I let the dust settle
      let the dust gather
I will have a blanket
Made of ashes I couldn't afford.
Would I be warm?
If I stood under an umbrella made out of sunshine
What would happen?
Would the rays destroy me like kryptonite does superman?
I don't think so.
My friends wouldn't let that happen.
They nurture my roots
Until I flower
And they spread my petals across an atlas
So the whole world knows that love does not have to smell
Like pickles.
And I could never thank them enough for making everything a little bit less
Broken.
I asked my girlfriend for 8 completely random words to tie together in a poem. This is the outcome of that. It's kind of corny, but **** it. I'm corny.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
One time a friend came over and she showed me her poetry.
She had two notebooks.
one for positive writing
and one for negative.
The negative notebook had a gratuitous amount of writing in it compared to the positive one.
She told me that when the negative notebook gets full she was going to **** herself.
There were six pages left.
I tore the last one out and said,
"well, now it will never be full."
I still have that blank page,
Marcus Neeley Jan 2015
Being a ghost is not as hard as it seems.
The flame of my heartheartbeat quites down to a flicker
Before the door slams shut
And a plume of smoke dances its way to invisibility.

That's the moment I realized I haunted the hallways of my mind.
The floorboards shriek and shrill,
The air is thick and stagnant,
And the eyes on+ the paintings
Follow me like a cancer.

I see a window and look out.
I see myself as a child.
Playing.
Laughing.
Enjoying life.
It blows my mind that there was a time and place
Before the world shook the innocence from me like loose change.
Mother earth took her $1.57
Bought herself a coke
And said "*******, kid"
Before jumping in her firebird and peeling out.

I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming
But all pain feels the same to me nowadays
So who knows if I'm awake or not.
But that doesn't matter
Because my voice hides in the shadows of my cave.
Hollow
Dark
Damp
And empty
Except for the beast that hides inside
With love in its eyes
Waiting for the light to show.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
I smoke my last cigarette in a parking lot
all the way down to the filter.
That final exhale brings the worry and fear of when my next breath of hot air will be.
I am dependent.
I am dependent on open arms to catch me when my fall comes to an end,
I am dependent on the smiles that dance around me to let me know that now is a good time,
I am dependent on the tears that streak faster than my blood when all i want is to spill it all on the floor,
I am dependent on the knowledge of others to throw my mistakes at me like fastballs, I’m hoping for a home run but i took a bean and walked to first and never made it home because i’ve never had a home plate…
my life isn’t shaped like a ******* diamond.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
You're animosity is like a fire and I'm ******* tired of getting getting burnt!
Close your eyes and tell me what you see
I bet it's just black.
I'm ******* jealous,  because every time I close my eyes I see the face of a boy,
Streaks racing down his cheeks,
Eyes as red as the blood trickling out of his knuckles.
I don't know if you know this, but don't ever **** with someone that doesn't want to be alive.
They have given up on the idea of a future and nothing would mean more than destroying someone else's
I want to destroy something beautiful,
Rid the earth of purity, and of truth
The same way it was stolen from me!
My mother looked me dead in the eyes and told me,
her baby boy,
"I should have ******* aborted you"
WELL I ******* WISH YOU DID TOO ***** CAUSE I NEVER ASKED FOR ANY OF THIS!
If I could go back in time, i'd kick my dad in the nuts really ******* hard.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
They say there are three ways people can escape their woes
Sleep,
Drugs,
And death

I've tried 2 out of those 3 things so far
And so far,
I'm tired of my bed
And my supply of green has turned red.

You see, my problems are a lot like my addictions,
Just a bunch of smoke and ash
Cause I can't get up off my ***

This poem is for the boy Who packs his happiness into bowles with no milk
And measures good times in grams (not. golden)
Nothing feels as good as purple
And redheads are only cute when they come off of trees.

Can't you see
I'm mentally ******* ill!!!!
But you know what they say
That sticky icky can sure cure the sickly.
Quite quickly

As a matter of fact
If you don't mind I please ask,
Have you ever smoked marijuana before?
This is just some corny **** that i wrote.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
There’s a man that sits on a bench.
He has his small notebook that he cast his thoughts into like a fishing line.
He’s trying to catch all the reasons he’s ******* up so he can gut them into chum, lure sharks and jump in with them because he know they won’t eat something that is already dead.

There’s a man that sits on a bench.
he has his small notebook that he hides his secrety into.
It’s no vault, but he keeps it close to his chest, clutched by the undying insecurity that someone might sneak in.
He would lock it inside his ribcage but he can’t remember who he gave the key to…

There’s a man that sits on a bench.
He has his small notebook that he paints his mind onto.
He has his black pen, it is his brush.
He narrates the paintings artists haven’t made yet,
puts meaning behind his dreams and makes sculptures out of his pain, chiseled away with the positivity that he could turn something ugly, beautiful.

There is a man that sits on a bench.
He closes his notebook.
He gets up, and he stretches his limbs.
He walks away, wondering
what will i write next.
Marcus Neeley Jul 2014
While you think you're feelings are being ignored,
While you think your heart is shattered on the floor
My fingers are sliced to the bone picking up the pieces.
Look into my eyes.
Look into my soul.
What do you see?
Do you see another boy, with trembling hands?
Or do you see a man,
With a firm grasp.
Cause I could hold onto your heart if you want.
I promise I won't break it.
But that's a pretty big jump to take.
I hope you can make it.
Marcus Neeley Jan 2015
Is there enough life to give in This world?
I see it
Drowning in the hardships of
Picking up pennies to pay for a meal
And spending forty- five dollars on two days of making nothing fun.

I'm smoking a cigarette that I started earlier, that I thought I was finished with earlier.

My father drowns his sorrow in beer and blames his problems on yesterday.
My mother sings caskets and has a gift reciept for every time she's ever "loved"  me.

My life has consisted a lot of scraping by
And I'm Down to the last few layers of skin
Before the burning concrete creates a river of blood for Moses to walk through

Isn't it so simple?

What is, hasn't always been.
And what was has changed for a reason.

The reason
I still breath
I still laugh
I still love
I still write,
Is because you picked the grapes off the walls , growing around my heart
And before they turned to raisins,
You poured wine into my bloodstream..
Drunk off of your warm touch and dazzling smile,
I swallow the alphabet and hiccup compliments,
Keeping My eyes on yours
So as to not get lost in the treasure map hidden in your laughter.

My stomach flutters.

I grab your hand.

You squeeze mine tighter

My heart flickers.

I love you.
Marcus Neeley Nov 2014
I believe in the good things coming.
Although my leaves are changing color,
I know you will gladly adventure through the forest.
Winter will bring me a blanket
And when spring comes I will flower
Until summer kisses me with warmth.

The sky may be darkened
But the universe paints a picture in our sky
With the light shed in day dreams.
The moon cast a shadow over my shoulder.
Darkness doesn't know that I am smiling.

I believe in the good things coming
Because I've never believed in anything
Until I saw the ghost of my happiness
Resurrect from the space between my biggest fears
And my ability to smile

I fell asleep while writing this
But I dreamed for the first time in awhile.
My dream was outlandish,
I didn't remember a lot of it
But I was never afraid.

I believe in the good things coming
My blankets are full of dust
But when I shake them out
I sprinkle fairy tales onto  the earth.
A tree sprouts and grows its limb
Tall and wide, so it can hug the sky
And give thanks to the sun
For never letting him know hunger.

Your plate is full,
But that does not mean you have to eat off of ***** dishes.
Prepare a meal,
Set the table,
Dig in.
Marcus Neeley Aug 2014
I'm sorry for freaking out yesterday.
I just never have had my heartbroken before.
I think the hardest part about this **** is that I see you ******* everywhere.
Your smile is captured in the moon and the way your lips glisten in its light are like stars.
Your hair smells like rain an flows like the waterfalls that come after the storm!
Your eyes drown the sun in oceans but it still burns with just as much intensity!
Your laughter matches the birds song every morning and I always think something's funny but nothing is because when I realize it's not you
I shoo the birds away....
You broke my ******* heart
But that's okay.
That's okay
Cause this is the first time and it sure as hell won't be the last!
So while it's in all these pieces, I'm giving them away like oprah because YOU GET A PIECE
YOU GET A PIECE
YOU GET A PIECE
WE ALL GET A PIECE
because I'm a lover and there's enough to go round
I'm a protector
So you know you'll be safe and sound
I'm a feeler so you know I'm not ******* around
I'm ******* this town cause I'm done with all of this clowning around
Be still
Stay there
Don't you dare move
Cause I'm about to walk away
And I want you to watch
Because as hard as it is for me
And as easy as it was for you
You're the one that's missing the **** out.

— The End —