Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
M'thew Oct 2011
I'm sorry, ma'am,
that I forgot your three cent bag credit.
Yes, I know there is a sign right next to my register
that says
     "don't forget the bag credit."
Yes, I understand that this is
not a skill required job,
that my work takes
absolutely no effort
but do you understand the following:

You're an absolute *******.
You're an upper middle class white woman
who resides in a wealthy area
complaining that I didn't save you a ******* dime on your 3 bags
you brought because you are trying to
     "save the environment"
by using less plastic bags

Oh, let me guess...
You drove a car here, did you not?
If you were a real ******* activist for the planet,
you wouldn't be driving a gas-guzzling SUV.
Or are you flaunting a
brand new BMW or Mercedes Benz?

You disgust me.

There is something I know,
I will never be anything like you.
I won't ***** at a cashier
about being deprived of a dime
and claim I am saving the planet.
I'm not going to work behind a desk
and be a Class A ******* office worker
that takes out their hatred
of a ****** job on other people.
I'd rather be a struggling musician,
barely even making enough money to support myself
and still I will be happier than you are.
because i will be doing something I love
instead of worrying
how my surplus of money is depleting.

For you ma'am,
I will open my drawer and give you
                                                               that dime
                                                                               you need
                                                                                              oh, so
                                                                                                       badly.
You know what,
why don't you take two
because you clearly need the money.

Have a great ******* day!
M'thew Oct 2011
Everything I write is nothing special.
Anything I decide to think has been thought about a hundred times over.
So if I'm nothing but a replica and compilation
of past thoughts and ideas,
Why think? Why try?
     Easy,
Because I can;
          I wont waste this mind of mine.
M'thew Oct 2011
If everybody has the same thoughts as me, the same worries,
How come I can't see it?
Social groups are forming
Making their own unique circles with a specific equation,
Of which I am a number that does not fit.
In this grid of infinite space,
Who will find me
And create their own equation
Where I am the solution?
M'thew Oct 2011
Wasted hours, passing daze
All because I see her face
My thoughts can freeze
As we walk beneath these towering trees.
Her hair holds up even in the rain
To touch her lips I can't refrain
To graze her hips with my fingertips
I know would heal my pains.

I am a coward to her beauty
Afraid of her denial
But was my last attempt not futile?
Her lips I did meet
Oh yes, her gorgeous, gracious, succulent, mesmerizing lips
Of which mine briefly became acquainted
Makes me cannibalistic for more.

I seek not lust, but i must
For my daydreams and my night dreams
and my left dreams and my right dreams
Strip her from her avaunt garde clothing
Revealing her olive skin in a florescent room
Free from the abysmal gloom
For my unworthy hands to gently caress.

I press to impress this empress of my thoughts
For she supersedes my wants.
I don't just want but I need to feel her hair
Brush against my bare chest as she lays down
To close her eyes next to mine
Awaiting the moment they open and see
I am still there.

What I would do to be with you
For even one night
(I'd believe in God if I got two.)

You certainly are nothing less than bliss
But my uncertainty aches me
Will I ever get another kiss?
M'thew Oct 2011
airplanes-
                                 when you make your swirly noises that dance around my room
chanting and
                                                                                                                                                          chanting
and
                                                                             chanting,
I think to myself
                      that you are just in the wrong time period.
                                  Imagine freaking the **** out of the people from the middle ages. They would not be able to process what they saw and possibly relate it to some divine power.
                                         What would the Renaissance have turned out to be like?
Anyway,
        planes,
                                              Stop causing me flashbacks.
M'thew Oct 2011
airplanes-
                                 when you make your swirly noises that dance around my room
chanting and
                                                                                                                                                          chanting
and
                                                                             chanting,
I think to myself
                      that you are just in the wrong time period.
                                  Imagine freaking the **** out of the people from the middle ages. They would not be able to process what they saw and possibly relate it to some divine power.
                                         What would the Renaissance have turned out to be like?
Anyway,
        planes,
                                              Stop causing me flashbacks.
M'thew Oct 2011
It wouldn't be all too bad being a storm,
giving people better appreciation
to celebrate nicer days.
Rippling the skies like waves of an ocean
not discriminative to any particle
of this industrial world.

To have been
and to never disappear
but still ever so temporary.
They do ****, but only on their bad days,
which all existence needs one or two.

Today storm, you missed me
but I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon.
Next page