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Apr 11 · 55
julian assange
Mouthpiece Apr 11
julian assange is a hero.

he alone holds the powerful to account better than any other news outlet the world over.

he alone details more corruption than any other news outlet the world over.

he alone exposes how bloodthirsty the imperialist war machine really is.

he alone reveals how flippantly soldiers shoot innocent children.

he alone provides more knowledge to the masses than any other establishment does, and knowledge is power.

he alone exposed how the american media and hillary clinton robbed the american public of a life changing government.

julian assange is a hero.
Apr 3 · 73
the drink
Mouthpiece Apr 3
mouth ajar,
my head in delayed recline
tilts ever backwards
onto dried blood circles
where i won’t wish i’d died
for a while
at least until earth
stops rotating on my axis,
until these ***** strokes
no longer feel so distant

it’s a clean break
a sluggish cleave through
the vertebrae,
my blushing backdrops
can quieten for now
just while i disappear
because when reality bites
and life ***** me dry again,
is when i’ll anxiously wait
until all around me
spins away
Mar 21 · 128
It’s world poetry day
Mouthpiece Mar 21
and i’ve pretty much finished my first poetry book.
Any hints and tips on what to do would be greatly appreciated ☺️
Mouthpiece Jan 28
crossed off
my first death wish
from the
hundred that occupy my
kick the bucket list,
i embraced death
and will always pay more
for my
morbid fascinations
than any muscle-bound state
could possibly enforce

the pen’s my
weapon of war
and i’ve been dying
to get these words out
though these red scores
across my throat
don’t cut as deep
as the sword

knives clashed with
my shoulder blades
but i’m the only one
sending me
to an early grave

you can call it
insanity if you want to
because to be
considered sane
in schisms this insane
is an insult

got sick of
having my head turned;
i can look back
and laugh now
it’s a tragic comedy
that so many aspire to
slide away
towards obscurity

i’m dead tired
an inzombiac
under attack
from the stigma
of the quiet life

only ourselves
can stop us

you are going to die
know it
and the world will change
for the better
first draft and an attempt to break my worsening writer’s block. Suggestions on improvements would be greatly appreciated
Dec 2018 · 288
two years
Dec 2018 · 219
a christmas message
Mouthpiece Dec 2018
i’ve neglected this site over the last year, for reasons both traumatic and proactive. but i promise you all, every last person i’ve come into contact with on hello poetry, that i admire you and care deeply about you.

certain people i’ve come to know more than others, deeper than others, more intimately than others, but i’m thankful for every last one of you, for better or worse. you have all not only given me unparalleled support, but also the confidence and belief in myself to come out of my shell about everything i’ve experienced, and the belief that my poetic endeavour were not as futile as i had thought—so much so that my first book is due to be published next year.

so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything, and have a wonderful christmas and 2019.
Dec 2018 · 654
not here
Mouthpiece Dec 2018
there are riots in paris
but not here
we just let the people starve here
freeze here
sleep on the roadside here

the streets are burning in paris
but not here
we just hate muslims here
and blame the blacks here
it’s always the foreigner’s fault here

blood is spilt in paris
but not here
we accept the cruelty elites bestow here
we know our place here
we’ll shrug and carry on here

the people have risen in paris
but not here
and for the life of me
i couldn’t tell you why
Nov 2018 · 209
how to get better
Mouthpiece Nov 2018
have goals

one more breath
one more hour
one more night’s sleep
another day
just another week
get to payday

fall down, and repeat

go out and have fun
make one more friend
get laid
and breathe

fall down, and repeat

get busy breathing
tuck another grand away
one more holiday
a cheap weekend getaway

fall down, and repeat

read a book
read another
one more
join a club
meet a partner
holiday with them
house hunt/learn to drive/propose
buy a house/buy a car/get married

fall down, and repeat

keep breathing
and grow old
all your
ups and downs
and know
they’re natural

and know
the ultimate goal
in life
is death

and you’re dying anyway
so why skip to it?
The only person who will ever be able to help you is, ultimately, yourself. Pills only temporarily keep depression at arm’s length. The best way to get through it is to make goals, day by day.
Sep 2018 · 365
Mouthpiece Sep 2018
obtain my prestige
smoke dimethyltryptomine
then you can @ me
People are free to dislike my work, free to hate it and free to try and destroy it, but don’t poemsplain to the poet. Don’t claim to know what I mean by ‘past self’, especially when you’ve accomplished nowhere near as much as I have on the back of not even being certain of what I’m capable of. It’s clear you have not experienced what I have by your replies, so, please, before you open your mouths, do what I did. Debate is fine, but don’t let your wholly incorrect opinions and unwarranted egos tell me what I mean. You know who you are.

To everybody else, thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart.
Sep 2018 · 1.8k
lost angeles
Mouthpiece Sep 2018
i know
there’s nothing left
at all
when you eulogise
as the whole world
took aim
and fired
millions of imaginary bullets,
one for every
human being
he was paid to ******
one for every
human being
he burned alive
he’ll never die
he’ll liver forever
haunting the halls of power
so i’ll not be
speaking ill of the dead
by celebrating
his life

i know
there’s nothing left
at all
when bush
killer in chief
is given relief
because he opposes
hot air
in word alone
whilst buying
new thrones
with the taxes he saved,
cuts that send
your core support
to their graves,
the cuts you
carve your name to
and profit from,
the bombs you vote
to buy
while you cry
about the election
you rigged
and still lost

i know
there’s nothing left
at all
when you embrace
the hawks
that have always circled you
when you serve
your corporate overlords
when you disenfranchise
half your country
and leave them destitute
when you can’t
even care for them
when they’re dying
but happily
sends them off
to their slaughter
for no other reason than
because you’re
by the profiteers
of war

there’s nothing left
at all
about you
Putting the feelers out there. The American left: wake up.
Aug 2018 · 532
Mouthpiece Aug 2018
please s/top [the car]

you’ve been
me incircles
all day
and all life

we’re not

and i
must separate

split from y/our



stop [the car]
of your
un[%]naturally white
teeth mal/function in
the m[irror]s
the c[rack]s

in the


/just a ride/

i’ve gambled

never won

- .-. .- -. ... .--. .- .-. . -. -.-. -.--

01100001 00100000 01100010 01101001 01101100 01101100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101111 01101110 01100101

it’s all sordid
mor>bid+hate+*** too



[/the car]
[/the car]
[/the car]
[/the car]

     ———————— • ————————
I’ve been trying to write this for about a year. This is the best I can do, and the way HP uses underscores has ruined the form.
Extremely experimental, so I estimate split opinions and a fade into the background.
Jul 2018 · 5.2k
the system
Mouthpiece Jul 2018
i tell myself
i’m not Your

my chains are Golden
so i must be free


all the money in the world
will never buy me

that is
i think of how You’d
kiss me,
until You show me how
You’re all around
yet nowhere,
and there’s never any
escaping Your
vulturous capitalisation
Your invasive marketing
Your pseudosentimental
the beautiful
indoctrination of Your
talking head
the only one
we both want me to see

we both want me to think
i can **** the system
and i keep hoping i can
but You know
i never will

it’s ambivalent
but i only love You
because You tell me to
and i don’t know any better

i am surrendered
rendered legally tender

there’s no escaping
the one i’d
blindly follow,
fall off this Earth
face first,
blindly stay
and never leave,
blindly believe
Your cancerous
Yellow ribbons
over my own
First draft. Don’t know how I feel.
Jul 2018 · 1.4k
July 4th
Mouthpiece Jul 2018
you’re free

to do what, exactly?
Jun 2018 · 2.0k
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
keep secret
the crimson wakes
ebbed on your
screaming out
your steaming sands
when you’re bound
in twitching chains
drenched in the dead night
and gagged
and choking in
my bare hands
with a wide smile

we can’t speak of
your rattling bones
our scorched friction
and our guttural
carved into you
with my teeth,
cutting into you
like my embedded fingerprints do,
pulled out
by my mouth,
forced out
by my invasion

we **** like
endangered animals
in our own
dimmed corner
dogged and primal
shrouded in
evaporating sweat
and salivating libidos
with which we’ll
paint your room

nobody can ever know
how we cast shadows
on your cave
we take it
bound and crushed
to the grave
love is only ever blind by choice, not by nature. love is blindfolded. anything that doesn't fit perfectly into our own tiny little ideal box is dismissed as worthless. it must end.

will probably end up rewriting this.
Jun 2018 · 1.9k
your dog
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
it’s summer
and i’m
waiting for you
in your locked car
parched, dry,
ready to die
waiting for you
to return,
to throw me
your bones;
i’ll never learn
if i don’t want to—
i’ll still wait for you
ragged, tail-wagged
calmly being cooked
by the yellowy sunbeams.

there’s no place
i’d rather be
True love is choosing not to exist without, even if unrequited.
Jun 2018 · 294
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
i check this site
every day
and every ******* night
hoping to know
you’re alive
and well

you’re as good as
but the memories
you gave me
won’t die
with you
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
why is helping people
a political position
rather than
a quality
that defines us all?
this fact never fails to amaze me.
Jun 2018 · 502
little things
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
we are small
insignificant things
in a place
to big to fully appreciate

so enjoy
the little things
because nothing
truly big
will ever happen to us
realising your own insignificance is an important step towards freedom. realise it.
Jun 2018 · 234
to be heavy
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
those were
the best day

we made each other sick
in the sweetest ways

how you used to
make my
belly ache
and my jaw throb

you were like
the gobstopper
kids could only
dream of

but now i’m just
and tired
of all the meaningless
Jun 2018 · 271
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
you only ever
see the champ
never the
forgetting everything about myself is easier when I’m drunk and surrounded by people who say they care but they really don’t. Don’t get sentimental.
Jun 2018 · 11.1k
die later
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
and their
covalent bonds
are the foundations
i’m built on

the galaxy is full
of my twinkling
molecular compounds

and i circumnavigate both

they’re one in the same,
the universe
my nerves and my veins

and i will die later,
my dilator;
i look forward to seeing
my past self
there with you again
Thank you to everybody for making this piece be selected for the Daily! I’m always grateful that my poems are even acknowledged by one or two people, let alone by you so many of you.

I’ve also some very, very exciting news. And I guess this place is to break it, since here is where it all started. I’ve been working on an anthology, which includes poems on here and some previously unreleased material I’ve been writing on! It’s due to be completely by the end of the year, and, hopefully, be on shelves very shortly! Keep your eyes open, loves, and thank you all again ❤️.

As for the poem itself, here is some info:

Every single person on the planet know about N,N Dimethyltryptomine. Everybody, without exception. Thousands of people who have taken it experience the exact same high: bright colours, the sensation of the souls being ejected, and then meeting the most omnipotent, loving, wise entities, and they all report that they know that place, that other dimension, better than this plain insofar as to say that that spiritual realm is the real reality. We have lost our way with spirituality; people are of either juxtaposed school of though: science or religion. Organised religion cannot solve the problems the world faces; science is lonely and cold. Spirituality is sublation of the two. Please, research it and try it. It will change your life.
Jun 2018 · 288
god forbid
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
these days
is saying
I have no idea why people are ashamed to admit they don’t know anything. Psuedo-intellectuals are a disaster and are sadly having more of an impact on our society than they ought to. Fabrications spread faster than truths, and it is typically right wing, god loving maniacs who spread these truths just to reaffirm their own ****** up idoligy. Slap them down.
Jun 2018 · 373
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
was once mine

and i was wholly Yours

and i need that again.
I was drunk when I wrote this
May 2018 · 199
on equal fuckings
Mouthpiece May 2018
to you,
and i would
eat you alive
if i could

we can still
****, though

then we are
no longer
God and Samuel Colt never made us equal, *** does.
May 2018 · 228
Mouthpiece May 2018
in the end
full glasses

May 2018 · 268
i miss you
Mouthpiece May 2018
i still have every single thing
you ever sent me
your cup
your note pad
and they’re empty
waiting to be filled
waiting to overflow
with you
May 2018 · 486
Mouthpiece May 2018
your borrowed body
is not yours
for me to fall for

i love your mind
and nothing more
May 2018 · 174
New Phone
Mouthpiece May 2018
got myself a new phone today
figured i’d treat myself
went to transfer the
pictures of you
the woman
that once loved me
onto it
just so that i could
look at you
from time to time
and pretend
the love i still have
is justified

they all disappeared
just like you.
Mouthpiece Mar 2018
god can't be
and benevolent
at the same time
Art that challenges your perspective is art; that which doesn't is entertainment.
Feb 2018 · 560
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
smoke funny things
they'll make you
and there's
on Earth
if you're
high enough
A quick one, thought it was witty. The stigma around psychedelic drugs is not for your own good. If everybody took DMT or smoked ****, we'd finally find world peace. We'll know how little our quarrels matter, especially when we're on a spaceship travelling at 35,000m/h sideways.
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
when you look up
and watch the ***** juxtaposed
high-rise fingers
clawing for the clouds
as you strive
to avoid the pavement cracks
at any cost

do you ever
fell like you're falling?
Try it. Look at the top of a tall building as you walk by. You feel like you're falling on your back because of your perspective changing.

You may seem like you're going forward but you feel like you're getting nowhere. The rich get richer and their buildings get bigger. You're still on the ground, trying not to fall over.
Feb 2018 · 260
Don't Come Crying to Me
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
throw all the bones you want
to the dogs of war,
starve yourself
of morality's dregs
all you want,
but when the dogs of war
turn and behold
your bones
don't come crying to me
A quick but, I feel, important piece. I'm sick of America complaining about Russia influencing their election, when they routinely level countless countries, overthrow democratically elected leaders in cold blood. I'm tired thoughts and prayers attempting to close over the bullet holes of the States whilst the long, slithering fingers of corrupt lawmakers worm inside and pull out all the gun lobby cash they can grab, of 'moderate' heart-eating rebels being funded to pour more fuel on a world that's already frying. I'm fed up of ***** poltics and smears distracting the population from the real issues at hand, the utter betrayal of the masses, the desperate clinging to power only to rattle one's own sabre, the invasive advertising, the snooping by entrenched entities, the fear mongering, and I hope everybody else is here too. Don't ever give these ****** your undying loyalty; there are people out there who are far more deserving of it. The only way the entire thing can come crashing down is if we pull it apart ourselves. It's only a matter of time until the critical mass realises how ****** they're getting by neoliberalism and its proponents. When they realise, the world will, at last, belong to us, as beautiful, sentient, empathetic creatures. My pitchfork is at the ready.
Feb 2018 · 298
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
This sparkling lovebird’s chirping persists
i’d wring its neck if I could
if only this sack
this ****** membrane weren’t in the way,
if its bony cage couldn’t stop me;
i’m telling you
i’d wring its ******* neck
until the screaming colours
bled into my greyscale palms
leaving them golden
like triumphant, arrogant sunflowers
that loom above me
only to regret it afterwards,
to nervously slather the remains all over
in private
in my own chaos
out of others’ sight and earshot
of the ever-pounding heartache
that drives me mad

am I the only one
that hears it,
it’s broken tone
refracting and forlorn?
i doubt it, but
i fail to escape it’s solitary lilt
or the fact it’s mine alone
to suffer
bittersweet as it is
like this heartbeat
that keeps me lucid,
that tips me out
my single bed

i hope one day it shuts up
and normality can resume
one day it might,
one day

ah, who the **** am I kidding?
i lost myself a little there,
blotto on a cocktail of the grainy illusion of unparalleled power
the conversations she and I once had
and the Tyler Durden type of beating I often dish out to prove points

the mirror cracked me quickly
this time around
a sight as common as muck,
one I’m sick of,
black and blues,
yellowy and bruised
nothing in between
****** and perspective
between those tiny clicks
when I lie awake at night
carving open my own wrists
with my razor-sharp wit
that nobody snags onto

i’m just
and failing to lie to my soul
but that won’t stop me from trying,
is this the beginning of wisdom?
i don’t know or care, frankly;
don't ever quote me
on my sobriety,
but I promise you
i’m not having
drunken words with myself
waiting for the tap water to warm,
despite the half-empty pint glass
despite the rest of the beer
spilling out my mouth
tuscany and wasted
it’s cold outside
i don’t want to leave

see, I’ve come to know
the truth: I love it--
the necessary searing--
so does everybody else
which is why all the best songs are sad ones
the only difference is
i can’t sell it as good
because I’m duplicitous and wasted;
spent too many discontented days
trying to strangle metaphorical birds to notice
i locked myself away,
i’ve walled myself in
and they’re drained and so bored of all this futility
they’ve stopped responding to my inquiry again

it’s high-time
i realised that the sands
i clutch for with both hands
aren’t mine to hold
i’ll never be in control
of the tide,
so I guess
i must drift on
like it or loathe it

that’s something I’ll never do
because you’re another birdsong
i can’t drown out
so I’ll conform,
practice the smile
before braving the rain
and continuing to say
the same ******* cliché:
i’ll die for you

only now,
i don’t hear you say it back,
something I’m still not used to

i found what I love, see
and it killed me,
as I’ve said repeatedly;
i lie down,
over a puddle at the roadside
then each tender stomp of yours
tore me,
gut my virility
into smithereens
with every thought, dream
every romantically sickening,
stereotypically soppy
intangible experience
a poor, threadbare boy can stomach

i just hope that the gutter I die in
leaves me with
a smile on my face
after the uneventful life
the television at my bedside
tries to convince me
i’ll never have

i write my own yellow journalism
i am my own propaganda minister

i tried to do
what you said to
pressed the barrel to my head
and pulled;
the bang
almost took my eye out
and I guess that’s the difference
between us:
the cheap flag gag
and the real deal,
you have the unsolvable problems
that I **** after
because they’re exciting and dramatic,
because I found myself in you
and I’m only trying to see
what your eyes do
as they still
burn in me
from way back when you looked my way

you said the future’s in your control
you said you had to suffer alone,
after all
you are the bigger flame
out the two of us
and you **** the air
that I need,
but I’d much prefer
you to have
since you’re the supernova
we’d all like to see,
the flash in my life,
the detonation in my head
when I try to sleep,
in wintertime
like a spirit guiding me
out the house,
you're the yellowcake lines I cut up
on a smudged glass table
and snort
to help me fission
and forget who I am
to give me
little fragments of you;
your dead, flaked-off skin
is better than nothing at all
and I feel as though
humanity invades me
only to take you away
and raze me  
not knowing
i’ll level myself

the warbling’s
so soulful
the sole sounds
echoing inside me
are the only ones I want;
they sound precisely like you
but more alien
than countenance allows

love is such a simple thing
until you love somebody
until the autopsy results
come in

just grab a hold of me
cut of my circulation
choke me
for my own sake;
i want you
to put an end to my breathing
like we planned
when we fell into each other,
when you could’ve killed
this ******* lovebird
and put an end to
tedious ramblings
such as this;
you made it louder,
made it screech so powerfully
i’m humbled
by my own torture,
you made me proud to hurt
which is something I can only ever
thank you for

you destroyed me
and now
this is who I am,
verbally *****,
love or leave me,
and I can’t even face it alone anymore
i can’t articulate it well enough
or paint it buttery enough

so you’d better draw your own conclusions,
they’re worth
a thousand of my words.
Exploring vulnerability and the beautiful of it. This is more of a statement than a poem. I miss you. I wish I could annotate this piece; there's more to it than the words suggest.
Feb 2018 · 263
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
From an early age
i figured I was
the only meaty
in existence
and all the others
were androids
dotted about the place
to test my patience.

The longer I live
the more I realise
how right I was.
Lol is sarcasm
Feb 2018 · 212
About Dying
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
You said
we should die together
just decide to end it all
one day,
go out in our own way
on our own time
just the two of us

you are seductive like that

I told you countless times
I loved you;
that's when I died
and I don't know about you
but I think that
we're both dead

we just never chose how.
I miss you.
Feb 2018 · 491
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
Light pierces cracks
The exact same cracks that we
Wallpaper over
To quote myself: 'light lets us see what darkness made'.

Never bend to fit somebody else. You're a beautiful person; never let anybody tell you different.

You're on my mind.
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
Man's capability
To ruin
Is only beaten
By man's capability
To love.

The toughest among us
Are those
Who fight for that love,
Besieged on every side,
For life
Feb 2018 · 242
Sup With Me
Mouthpiece Feb 2018
Throw down your last dime
I'm coming to a town near you
I've got you on my mind
So bring your longest spoon

Look, I know **** is other people
So beneath your steeple, I wait foetal
Light a match and burn my bones
In your church tonight, in your church tonight
Finish me off, devour my soul
With this fruit o' mine, appease your appetite

Throw down your bottom dime
I'm coming to a town near you
I've got you on my mind
So bring your longest spoon
Because I've forgotten mine
I've forgotten mine
If I say so, this piece is smarter than it is poetic; the title is double-edged, the repetition is deliberate, and I quote Sarté.
'Sup' is slang, as I'm sure you're aware. But the expression 'he who sups with the devil needs a long spoon' is as equally important.
The best intentions are often detrimental, and the ever watching eye of normality is the most invasive of all.
I won't rattle on much longer. This note is no longer a note.
Jan 2018 · 657
Mouthpiece Jan 2018
Do I feel things
None of you do?
I have a feeling
That just isn't true
I'm human, just like you;
Are you human too?
I dunno

Turn on the TV;
There's nothing new
To me
Since the news
Always seems too bad
To be true
And the sadness
Shows no signs
Of stopping
Is that why we
Do nothing?

The thrill's
Leave the TV on.
See *******:*******/

An impromptu prelude to *******, pertaining to the sensation of societal spectacle prefixing apathy and existencial introspect, for myself at least--almost as if I'm the only human alive; this was a common thought I had as a child. It's also meant to sound petulant.

This is one of a pair; the second, *******, will have to wait until I'm ready to blow my own head off.
Jan 2018 · 680
Old Men Crying
Mouthpiece Jan 2018
The world's saddest sight
Is that of old men

Personally, I think that there's nothing sadder than seeing old men cry, and I hate that I do.
Society has drilled into us that men are to show no emotion, and I've fallen victim to such a ridiculous narrative.
This is an interesting point to raise in the fight for true, thorough equality. As we fight for the rights of women, we must also fight to drop male gender roles too. Let sadness be equal to behold.
Don't mind me, I'm just talking ******* to nobody in particular on Friday night because I've got nobody to talk to.
Jan 2018 · 479
Mouthpiece Jan 2018
Rise with me all night
I've got your moon
Lassoed around my mind

Ride my aromal waves
My meandering wakes
Crimson on your sands

I will occupy,
Your famished cries
They echo mine

Drag out your lakes
Flow between my teeth
Tastes bellyache-sweet

Shudder, quake
Burst through your outlines

I'll jar my knife
Into your heart
Feel each twitch fade
Dec 2017 · 421
Mouthpiece Dec 2017
Money isn't money
It's God
Only around
Because of people's faith
A comment on society. There's a double meaning to this. I suggest people read up on Neoclassical Economic Theory (a summary in brief below). Know how worthless your fiat currency actually is. See the farm, leave it.

Neoclassical economics is the economic infrastructure to which we are all beholden. It follows the principle of debasing money from hard wealth, the gold and silver standards, for example, and creating 'legal tender'. Money isn't technically money, it's currency. Money holds its value for a long period of time as it's backed by something such as silver or gold, something that can't just be printed or typed into the system; currency's value fluctuates all the time due to it not being back by any standard. Currency is loaned into existence, with interest, by central banks (the Fed Reserve is not at all federal). So, with that in mind, why is everybody so concerned about budget deficits? You can try and pay it all back, but there is more debt than money in existence. A government will exchange bonds for central bank currency. The central bank will then give said money to commercial banks, who are then able to loan out more than the money they receive. Say a bank is given $100, that bank only needs to keep approximately 9-10% of the currency back. This is a practice known as fractional reserve banking. Then, when you take out a loan, that loan comes with interest attached, which you then pay back, thus creating more currency than was originally given to the bank. Currency out of thin air. And we're slaves to this new *****.
Nov 2017 · 285
Mouthpiece Nov 2017
We live in our heads
All else is just beauty,

But you, you are third-eye candy,
Beautifully ******* up
  every pompous maxim I coin
    and I hate you because of that

Because the way you flip every detail of my life on its head without trying

Because how you turn every phrase I live and die by upside down

Because you're a breath of fresh air I'm not used to tasting

Because you make living without you around
  feel like a grave in the sand
    is the only place where my head belongs
Isn't it weird how one person can change your entire life in the blink of an eye? I tried to word this subtly but I'm hungover and frankly tired of trying to be clever.
Nov 2017 · 399
Mouthpiece Nov 2017
At night we speak
On shallow breaths
Our spirits linger
Upon the horizon
Reminisce of the set sun
Who's lazy haze slightly remains
The stars poke out
Amid indigo blues
Speckles of silver
Bleached lights
Reflecting in our smiles
Between flirting lashes
And blankets of sighs
We create a home
Safe warmth
Peaceful solitude
In the arms of another
Deep into the eve
Fingers explore
As lips quietly speak
Sweet secrets
Ears promise to keep
Alone and true
Our skin howls at the moon
Tongues alude
Stoking our passion
Oxygen seeps in
With our relaxing breaths
We combust and collide
Like flaming ships
Lost at sea in the night
Our souls merge
Soldered into one
We've discovered that
Home is here and
Lost is
Simply wondering
This is one of the poems you wrote me. And I love it as much as I did then. I still love you as much as I did then. I don't want you to go away. I only want to know that you love me. I'll forever be Eme. I'm nothing else, just Eme.
She needs to see this. She really needs to see this.
Nov 2017 · 405
Life in a Wine Cask
Mouthpiece Nov 2017
Woke up Sunday morning
Never knowing why I did;
All the things I'd loved were gone
All the things I would've took along.
My bed felt like the river's
And stones hurt more than the Styx.
The universe serves to tear down my soul;
We cynics only want to be proven wrong.
Ah, the worst feeling in the world. I haven't missed you. And I haven't missed you either, my worst fear, which I am now facing again. This is more personal than relatable, so I don't expect you to all understand. One person, however, should, without a shadow of a doubt.
People should read up on Diogenes more.
The tense change is very deliberate
Nov 2017 · 336
Live Longer
Mouthpiece Nov 2017
Live longer
Do as you're told
Slow down, idiot
Pay attention at work
Don't speak
Don't ever leave bed
Don't **** me
Count the rebellious hairs
on the pillow
in silence
I don't miss you,
just the idea of
having you around
Focus on our
Be trapped
in the ignorance
Fake a smile
to fake people
on fake occasions
Stabilise me
and my
all-over-the-place demeanour
Guzzle your analgesics
and your antiseptics
Be squeaky-clean
Please stop falling
Don't ever plummet in love
you'll wind up in ****
Choose the safety
of bars on your windows
and the reassuring barrel
of a shotgun
at the base of your spine
as an egg timer
sits lonely
talking to itself
some string
Live a longer life
brought to us by
The Law of Cosmic Laziness.
Oct 2017 · 303
Mouthpiece Oct 2017
If love
isn’t a viability
fake it for me
I’ll be deathbed-white
as society slowly
rots around me
in synchronicity with my mind,
as maniacal smiles illuminate the sombre serenity
of locked phone screens
that reflect my twisted fit-throwing
while I abjure my sanity
coiled in hysteria.

Shut up and dance.

Shut up and dance.

Won't you please just shut up and dance?

I’m not normal
validate me
like my pictures
comment and share them
feed me
others' misery
I’ll eat it alive
because everything’s for sale;
market my dissent
on t-shirts
and badges
with propaganda of hate
**** the media
**** the system
**** this
**** that
sell my glamorous diseases
because my piously anti-Jesus lifestyle
misses the point
But I can **** the alphabet
isn't that brilliant?
Of course,
I'm talking
out of my ****;
like everything you choose to believe
I’m a farce.
or augmented
it doesn’t matter
I am
who I am not
I solely exist in the constraints
of your truth.
Eulogise me
rate me
give me pigs to ****
***** to swallow
as I hide
every inch of my screen-burned mortality.

I’ll never swear to you
because nothing’s real anymore
and the illusion is draining
maiming my sanity
I give in
and revel in crass sin.

I'll nosedive
to the barrel-bottom
bespattered and bloodied
by your love.
Reposted this as I don't think it got the attention it needs. It's about nobody in particular, or **** for that matter, but the fakeness of society and how everything has become expendable and a commodity under neoliberalism
Sep 2017 · 2.0k
Mouthpiece Sep 2017
The people you let
Walk over you will complain
You're not flat enough
Don't let them
Sep 2017 · 788
The Fine Game of Nil
Mouthpiece Sep 2017
The world is a world of tears
And the burden of our morality
Cuts the heart

Release the fear

Release the idea of worth
You're worthless
You're just a speck of dust
That determines the fate of the cosmos
Vesuvian ash
Nothing more than a player
In The Fine Game of Nil
On the field that defines the rules
The spreading universe
Like frost on stained glass
When volcanic plumes
Blot out the sun again

You played
You played The Fine Game with me
When we sat by the gaslight
Finally warm

But I lost
And now I've got a touch of
Cotard's Delusion
And I want the teeth of your soul
To scrape the dead layers off
Like they did before
Before laughter
The cry of generations lost

The burden of morality
Cuts the heart
And the world is a world of tears
Tears we lose in the rain
Final draft. I'm happy with this. Nihilism as a self-defence mechanism. You said I was like you that way.

The Fine Game of Nil is an anagram of The Meaning of Life.
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