Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2018 nyant
kaylene- mary
i've got this new home now,
it's not really new
but it smells different.
and i'm sitting here in front my old home
like a smoke signal,
just a trail of grey,
trying to figure out when a home expands further than just a place to keep all my stuff.
my new home is where i'm living
so i guess that means my old home is where i died,
and i'm saying all of this
because i don't wanna say jumping off a bridge is easy,
to sink like a life raft
left out in the sun.
i don't wanna say that stealing a bunch of pills would be easy because it's too easy
to leave without saying goodbye.
you see,
people always say that you'll be missed
but if you've wanted to die for long enough
eventually
that loses its value,
cause it's too easy not to care, to just sink.
so i'm sitting here in my new home
and i don't know why i asked my phone how to get here,
maybe i just like it when something agrees with me,
and it doesn't feel like
the kind of home i used to know.
i feel like an actor in a poorly edited student film,
always looking directly into the camera,
like somehow the eye of the chaos will just dive out and grab me.
i don't really know what i mean by that
but i guess what i'm trying to say is;
home is where i have my most comfortable panic attacks,
it's a place that i never have to leave.
home is where i get to sleep,
and,
if I want to,
wake up.
One man's A list celebrity
Is a **** star
One man's **** star
Is an A list celebrity
 May 2018 nyant
A Thomas Hawkins
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
 Mar 2018 nyant
Douglas Goins
Who am I...really? What about me is special enough to have a result in the world? I could sit on this bench day by day, month by month and nothing would ever change...for me that is. I've come to realize that it's not how you were as a human being, but rather the gift you were able to share across the world so to speak. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but nothing really makes sense to me other than the fact that will always remain, I will never be missed...for that matter, I will never be noticed. The trash that just lies on the ground in front of me even goes noticed, for one by the wind that carries it away, and two by the janitor that picks it up to put it in the garbage can...which just gives me this mentality that I'm lower than trash. The funny thing is though, I believe in God. I believe that Jesus died for our sins so that we can be forgiven and make it to heaven when our time on Earth has passed, what I don't understand is what I did to him for this to be my life. I ask myself if before I was sent to be a baby to this world did I upset him while I was an angel...what could I possibly have done to have this life?
Next page