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badtaste Oct 2020
sell your guitar and forget your dreams.
tell your friends it was just make-believe.
đť•’đť•—đť•Ąđť•–đť•Ł đť•’đť•ťđť•ť you were just a kid hitting a drum, in your uncles garage.
meanwhile your mom was drunk; and your dad was busy beating the dog.
people will always laugh at your tragedies...

so head to bed and try to get some sleep
I’m certain when you awaken things will still be the same; Father Time is always late to the first outing - that’s why destiny takes so long for things to change.

keep your spirits high - just like that time you waited on your parents for a ride.
remember in that parking lot? you talked to your shadow for nearly 3 hours while your mum & dad where still parked-in the driveway getting high off of  disappointment and “ HAᗺITƧ " ...

stay inside your head; it’s a safe space from all the craziness. Just remember your not alone because I too have dealt with this, I love you Lewis. Goodbye
it’s been awhile since I’ve posted
badtaste May 2020
for those that support the disorder of life,
understand the order of all peace kept - sleeps with one hand tight with a knife,

covered in sheets that reek from the odor of death - secrets creep over the  security that was sworn to be kept,
molded from laws as soft as  concrete constantly mocking the hungry  families who eat dinner with a papier-mâché fork wrapped in  barbed wire,

like a Christmas present expired to be opened on Halloween - the corporate begs for his try as he fears his life will be silenced  from the woman screaming inside the screen of a machine,

trails hide liars but it is unanimous  the innocence is such an inconvenience to those who share a chair in power - one more child is treated as a photo never receiving justice as  deserved,
dessert is served but sentencing was never heard - the Franklin family left without any sweet revenge,
it seems big business buys opinions and walks clean with red covered hands that dipped in the process

such a shame the court caught an inner most disgusting sickness and deserted dignity from the rights of 13-year old Rebecca Arnold Frank
true story
badtaste Apr 2020
Find relief, underneath, the last swaying maple leaf.
In the soil, a helpless echo, spills from scared oak.
A naked fern, cold and worn, stays silent but has already spoke-
it’s chilling pleas, for sanctuary, meanwhile machine plants

industrial
plastic
tress
badtaste Apr 2020
falling in love was not my fault,
it is an emotion one is helpless to.
it is out of your control-a complete surrender to the fantasy you want to become reality

hoping the other catches you-then security rises
it is the risk over reward-always loyal and faithful

love is blindfold;it hides hurt like mold breaking beams beneath your feet

falling in love can hurt...but it makes us feel most alive

love makes a sane man a maniac;
perhaps I’ve always been in love with the idea of being loved
...
instead of actually being loved
“...and in that single moment-they felt they knew each other their entire lives...”
badtaste Mar 2020
they said all I ever did
was to live by feeding off all your accomplishments,
that I was only a fiend-not your friend
but if they began from the beginning,
perhaps they'd understand...

I was just jealous-of your will and
determination,
to move on from the memories
and act as if they never did happen

8 months makes a memento
maybe that makes me pathetic-
to still be writing rhymes about you,
and lock you inside my head.

but-
don't you worry,
I'm about to move on
mister nobody will finally write his final lines.

The depth of the darkness you claimed to feel inside my eyes-
lead you straight to my secrets
and helped break through the seduction-façade-every lie...

I bet these brown burrows brought a sense of home
each time you laid in my arms it gave a sensation of hope

But poets are petty for guilt tripping those we claim
“we hold close”

however,
isn’t it unfair?
That I can’t fall asleep alone-
since my muse keeps holding my dreams for ransom-
every night infiltrates my subconscious
without an invitation...

I won’t put blame on you
it’s me who hates myself
for signing away happiness
trading it for selfish ***

I realized in the dusk of a darkening night,
when the rain enclosed a soggy emotion,
revelations of a cycle I have entrapped myself into-
came in spite of foggy-ill-ententions.

I had to leave and fill myself with hate
and pry you would feel the same before it’d be too late...

I hate how much I still love you, it honestly makes me sick.
apart of me wishes we could wipe the slate
and try another attempt.
but that’s the problem-it will never work

so sorry that I never learned and held onto the silence-I didn’t write all these lines to make you hurt
I know I must be a ****
giving you such simple things
like letters and gifts

keep something as a souvenir to remind you how it’s all meaningless stuff
for when the sun fades away - later today - there’s a chance {I will be considering} that you’ll actually be taking it all apart;
out of destruction-or embarrassment- the possibilities for you not to finish this note are endless...

but poetry is just words on dead trees
I speak in circles
for breakfast I’ll eat all my words
until I feel empty
then I’ll pour
every drop of this petty pain
into a symbolic rusted chalice
and drink until I get drunk-
off from my last soliloquy {that goes} ;

perhaps later in life - when we both reach our prime
we can sit down together and look each other in the eye
until then hate all the things I gave and took away from your life
longest piece don’t expect anyone to read it fully
Just needed to vent
badtaste Mar 2020
In the last breaking hour
controlled under the iron-clutch of a dying kingdom
hear the laughter through the halls
as a new hysteria is swarming.
and the people call for a book to foretell the final chapter,
from the start to the end-to find a righteous answer.

...

Just as the eagle's feather falls
so do crowns from kings; caused of unseen catastrophes
this leaves the knowing left to uncover-
calamities hidden within ghostly visions-
sworn to loyalty of vengeance,
as fakers cry a false mourning.

...

A holocaust of happiness leaves the young prince with only questions
to live- to die- to love- to try, and seek his name a meaning
for those we lose we lose parts of ourselves
madness to some is just a gentler grieving.

...


So plunge your pen into the sky
and write the years as they come by
to time tragedies are just one blink shy of a happy ending.

S H A K E S P E A R E
. . .
badtaste Feb 2020
every time you cross my mind
fog fills my skull and clouds my thoughts
each time I say your  name
my tongue curls up and green travels through my lungs
any moment I see you close
turquoise trickles and travels onto my lips
such salty emotions I savor
...
you are the badtaste that lingers but I’m obsessed with the flavor
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