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 Sep 2017 redruMAndTea
Sombro
B
 Sep 2017 redruMAndTea
Sombro
B
B-B-B-B
Bedtime now
B-B
B-B
B-Brush your teeth
B-B
B-B
Break your own rules
Stay up late
B-B
B-B
Bedtime now

B-B
Breathe
B-B
Breathe
Tomorrow you'll get back late
B-B
Broken phone
B-B
Broken
No time to fix it
B-B
Bedridden at the office
B-B
B-B
B-B
B-B



B
a little bit more like art this one, if I do say so myself. I'm trying to draw attention to the action of making the 'B' sound, the monotony of saying it over and over again, as well as the mundane and slightly sinister nature of the phrases between. This is about as close to the kind of poetry I was taught at school as I think I'm gonna get...

Edit - I just realised reading 'B' over and over again makes me question the very look of the letter 'B' - consider that part of the message.
 Sep 2017 redruMAndTea
Evan E
Habit
 Sep 2017 redruMAndTea
Evan E
I want to be your habit,
Your guilty pleasure,
Hooked like prometh and codeine,
I'll love you forever

I want to be your habit,
Who's always there for you,
Like the THC rushing to your brain
I make happy what was once blue

I want to be your habit,
The kind you can't escape
Who picks up pieces of your broken heart
And reconnects the pieces with tape

EAE
 Sep 2017 redruMAndTea
h m w
He smiled at me and said 'here, take this'

It was a happy little pill of his and it would feel bliss

I smiled and gave him a kiss saying, 'thank you baby'

But what happened next forever will drive me crazy

Next thing you know I was spinning in my head

Then he wanted to bring me to a bed

His friends walked in and wanted more

So they all called me a ‘***** little *****’

My body was numb and I couldn’t move

I let out a scream but they didn’t approve

Everything went black but then again I woke

But to them it was nothing but a funny little joke

They locked me inside of a walk in closet

So if there was a stir I sure wouldn’t cause it

I blacked out again and woke in a different place

Treating me as if my soul were missing and my body were a case

Still I was unable to move nor speak

But he still said he loved me and kissed me on the cheek

I counted five inhumane beings on top of me moaning

One was even playfully groaning

I was disgusted and wanted it to end

But I knew that after this my mind would never mend

By now it would have been a little past three in the morning

Earlier I should have taken that adorable face as a warning

When they realized I was sobering up

They had an alibi saying they’d call this a hookup

When I could finally move my mouth again

I realized what had happened and felt heavy chest pain

They heard that I was muttering words that were incomprehensible

They saw me as nothing more than a body and that I was dispensable

They came up with a plan to hide my body in a ditch

I even heard one say, 'she deserved it, what a stupid *****'

I hit my head when they threw me on the ground

I only saw black in front of me and around

I woke up to a woman asking if I were okay

I only said one phrase and it was that 'I was betrayed'

What happened after that is irrelevant at best

All I will say is that I was nothing but stressed

This is my story and it happened two years ago today

Nailing an image in my mind that I was a targeted prey

I know now that I hold so much more worth

And I love myself more than anything on this Earth

Just know that these words have come straight from my heart

No matter how vile and disgusting this memory is, I can never restart

So I tried to make it a poem so it seems like some kind of art.

h.m.w
I am a ****** assault victim and I never received justice.
 Sep 2017 redruMAndTea
Nicole
Did I ever tell you
Why I stopped drinking?
Why I am so terrified
To take a sip alone?
How that one time after class
My heart was broken
And I skipped the glass
And drank straight from the bottle?
How I crumbled into a ball
Under my favorite blanket
My mind screaming through the halls
Fighting off the demons trying to drown me?
Of course I always want to die
That's something I've learned to live with
But never before in my life
Had I known that I could give in.
Yet there I lay crying
Wasted with a racing mind
Begging to give in to dying
But instead I went to sleep.
So when my depression intensifies
And I run to my substances
I am so terrified
So alcohol is the last option.
Because it could be my last decision.
There's something nostalgic about
The smell of
Cigarettes in the rain.

I am reminded of
Nights bleeding over into
The morning
Inhaling whiskey
                        and
Exhaling nicotine

Bonfires on the beach
Only...
I've wandered away from
The fire
My feet sinking deeper
Into dark, cold sand
The cool water only slightly
Tickling my toes

I think of
Waking up
In unknown houses
Unknown apartments
Unknown beds
                        With
Unknown people
Trying to recount
What just transpired.

I recollect
Faces that have
Come and gone
Dancing
                        and
Laughing
About what?

I couldn't tell you.

In the midst of it all
I feel
An emptiness
A hole
Pain and
Also nothing.

I feel nothing.

Yet still
Years later
A 3 AM hotel concierge
Reeking of cigarettes in the rain
Can bring it all back

Whiskey
                        Bonfires
Cold feet
                        Blurred friends(?)
Laughing                        and
                        Hopelessness.

Course smoke in a downpour
Nicotine in the mist
How could I ever miss a feeling like this?
Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends.
the smoke from his lips
quietly omits into the dark

he turns to face me with
his bloodshot, glossy eyes

"i want you" the drugs said

the substance in his system
had complete control over him.

- you never wanted me
Some people hate the smell of smoke
To me smoke meant early Thursday morning bongs rips
And the sun fighting it's way through the curtains
His 8 AM shirtless skin against mine and his face in my neck
The way our lips would play and tease each other, longing and smoke on our breath
Until we drifted back into dreams
Because we weren't about to let the morning win
To take that away from us
The sort of home you want to be in,
When all you can focus on are the buttons of his suit,
Tightly woven into the fabric, brand new

Is not the same house you were in when he was alive

Its 3 AM staring at the floor, begging for the sleep to take you,
Anywhere
Even nightmares are better than this, nothing.

The solemn stares churn my stomach,
Somersaults with acid, my body lurches
Doubling over in the pain that is grief.

When the eyes in a room all fixate on you,
It's difficult to hide in a box inside your own head,
Because they tear the walls from your fragile shelter,

And their rain is a burning flame,
You are the match that refuses to be put out,
But wants desperately to feel nothing.

The sort of home I want to be in is
Roses, the thorns cut clean from the stem,
Green tea, just the right temperature
And an old console with his favorite game loaded up

But that house is abandoned,
Left like last week's sawdust,
Swept under the rug in a pile of books,
And i am the can of kerosene in the corner of the room,

Waiting to be used in the most vile of ways.

I am an unlit candle in the midst of a hurricane,
The shadow of the night sky blotted out by the moon
I am the fading smile of remorse,
The pang of guilt,
The sorrow of loss

I am the broken inside of you,
The one that eats away at you until the shell is broken apart
And you are all that's left
In the dictionary, i look up sad and expect a picture of me,
Depressed is myself in my room, alone
Suicidal is the knife i once picked up,

Daring to question if my own beating heart was worth the blood

My House is boarded windows and jail cells,
The crawlspace of cobwebs and creaking stairs,
The leaky roof and patchy ceilings

I am all but a finished mess,
And my foundation is cracked and split.

There is always vacancy,
Because who wants to stay in a house like that?

I’d rent out the rooms, but i'm paying for their rent
if they choose to live inside these decrepit walls

I only wish someone would see the shambles
As a start, and not the leftover parts from a failure,

If these 4 walls housed opportunity,
Instead of destruction.

My house, is a home that i long since enjoyed.
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