Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2013 S
Robert Guerrero
It's what we are
Yet your hypocritical ways
Blind you from realizing
That you preach to me
And judge me for being athiest
Yet does it not say
That you shouldn't judge others
Because they shall be judged by thine heavenly father
***** WAKE UP!!!!
Does your god have a face
Does he have a voice
Does he have a hand that I can hold
If he does then how come I can't see him
Or touch him?
Riddle me that you fuckshit hypocrite
You say my unhappiness is because I don't believe
So tell me
Why it is your so unhappy
Why scars dress your wrist
I know
Pick me
I have the answer


BECAUSE YOUR WORTHLESS GOD DOES NOT EXIST *******
Kid ****** me off and said that all the **** in my life was because I don't believe in God. I wrote this for him :)
I believe everyone is allowed their own beliefs as long as they don't try to force it on another.
 Mar 2013 S
Lacus Crystalthorn
And then I began to see everything in detail:

Her arm around my neck
her nose buried on my cheek
her breath clinging on my skin
her hand tracing my face
the final trail of her fingers
and her steps pulling back.

The interminable look in her eyes before she sleeps
and her slightly open mouth.
The way she turned away
and the way she ran back to me.
The sound of her footfalls
the weight of her embrace
her pressing lingering scent
and her ******* crushing on my chest.
Her skin devouring my skin
and the time perishing in our hand.

The wave of her hair
the flaunt of its strands
the arch of her shoulders
the sway of her arms
the spaces between her legs
the years between her steps
her last endless glimpse
her back becoming walls
her sheer infinity
and the sound of the stars as it explode
one
by
one.

I stood there watching her warmth slowly disappear.
Because this is what it's like when someone who does not love you any longer
walks away.
 Mar 2013 S
Cam Stoker
Define: Her
 Mar 2013 S
Cam Stoker
Soft curvy hips
Sweet smiling lips
Eyes so deep
Kisses on the cheek
Warm embraces
Safe places
A strong sound mind
A million words kind
Heaps of laughter
The morning after
A gentle touch
I can't get enough
Curvy and perky
Spontaneous and quarky
Full of fun
Bright as the sun
Laying in bed
My chin on your head

These are the things I love about you.
 Mar 2013 S
Renee Yvonne Chen
Start with the unknown,
A first time at something new.
One little taste won't matter.

Will it?

One time.
Just a try,
Just because she has a craving
For something
To preoccupy her mind.

What's the harm in that?

Months later,
Habits are clear.
Ribs show.
Pills spill across the counter.
Cuts etch sorrow into her skin.
Music screams about someone else's problems,
As she tries to forget her own.

She can no longer help herself.
She can no longer stop.

When did 'just one time'
Become every day?
When did 'just wanting to try'
Become a routine part of her life?

Years later,
Problems still haven't stopped.
In fact,
They've only escalated.

Arguments seep through a cracked door,
Louder than ever.
Taunts still echo in her head,
Stronger than ever.

Clothes still don't seem to fit.
Once too tight, now too baggy.
Stress still pounds at the door.
Once too much,

Still too much.

No music is loud enough
To drown out all the shouts.
No drug is strong enough
To take away all the pain.
No pang of hunger is depriving enough
To satiate her dissatisfaction.
No cut is deep enough
To carve out the problems
That envelope her life.

So tangled up in distraction,
So distracted from her problems,
That it was too late.

Her 'just one time' decision
Has become a fixation.

*An addiction.
 Mar 2013 S
Robert Guerrero
Your there when I want to be alone
Your just laying there
Drunk and bleeding
Do you even feel pain
You are somewhat of a marvel
Your pulse still evident
Your smile so grand
But I can see your cracks
The missing pieces
How I feel pity for you
But empathy as well as sympathy
How can you live life
So broken and bruised
And not feel pain
Maybe you can hide it
But I have this strange feeling I know you
So I ask you as you lay at my feet
Drunk and bleeding
Do I know you?
Wait now I see
As a sudden pain in my chest erupts
And caves in leaving a whole
Wide like the vacant sea
You are my heart
 Mar 2013 S
Lacus Crystalthorn
Between the pages
I will dig your grave
and bury you.

Your promises will stand
scared and shaking
at the edge of otherness

And I will let them explode like stars
and in that fleeting glimpse
I will capture eternity.

I will force the spine;
seal it with iron-lead
and imprisoned poetry.

Then one day,
I will tear those pages
one by one

and fold its edges
one by one
until they become

a collection of unwanted airplanes
that I will crush on your chest
as we stand face to face.
 Mar 2013 S
hannah wallace
dear life
 Mar 2013 S
hannah wallace
Dear Life,

Get out of my life. I don't like you; I’m scared of you. I'm not scared of death; I’m scared of life.  I can't look at myself in the mirror without getting goose bumps; I can’t water a plant without screaming. I don't know why I'm afraid of life, I just am.

But maybe it has something to do with my mother; she hated death, so I decided to revolt against her by hating life.

Another thing I should mention is that I don't like school, because most learning has something to do with living. In case you're wondering, I don't like writing, and I’m terrible at it. So don't expect any Shakespeare, coming from me.  “Why are you writing this?” you ask.  Well, I'll tell you.

It was about a year ago, that I started going to talk to this weird    psychiatrist that my mother wanted me to see. So we talked and we talked, and I was not having fun because I hated talking.  The psychiatrist said that I should write about my phobia, to get all my anger out. I thought,” what a bunch of nonsense,” but I did it. Here I am now writing to you. I ‘m afraid you’re never going to write back and that’s fine with me. But if you do, I’m afraid of what you’ll tell me, anyway.  I’m scared that you’ll call me a coward for being afraid of something   that I’ve lived with all these years.



Signed,

       Collin.



  Dear Collin,

I received your letter a while ago and I have been contemplating your phobia for 2 years. For what you wrote was powerful.



You’re not a coward and I won’t scold you. I have a phobia of death. Everyone has a phobia of something or other. Your phobia is not unusual but just so few people these days care to express themselves.  You’re one of the first people to have written to me.  You’re not a coward; you’re talking to your fear, something that takes lots of courage.



There is no reason to be afraid of me. Why are you afraid of me? I don’t think your mother is the real reason. I think you’re just too scared to go out in the real world and breathe the living air. You’re not afraid of life, you’re afraid of what is in life. You’re not afraid of me, you’re afraid of the lives I create and what is inside of them.

Your mother cares about you. She wants you to conquer your fear. You can do it, simply enjoy what’s around you, and don’t be afraid. Because, beneath your fear is hatred and you have no choice but to love.

You can do it , Collin, I know you can.



Signed,

Life
 Mar 2013 S
Brandon Michael Clark
i torture myself
thinking of you
dreaming of you
wishing for you
thinking of you
and thinking some more....
its torture
the pictures
the distance
the memories
the waiting
the wondering
the doubting
the assuring
its torture
i ******' miss her
 Mar 2013 S
Robert Guerrero
Rest in arms wide with care
Come rest your head
On a pillowed chest
I'll never let any harm come your way
Maybe I am lying
But I will try
Just don't leave me alone
Don't leave me to my demons
The voices in my head
Keep me safe
And let your voice
Drown out these eerie ones
Rest your shoulders
Burden me with your worries
I have more strength than you
I can be your rock
Let me grasp your anchor
Let me be the wind in your sail
Just never let me go

But I think it would be better for you if you did and just forgot me.
Next page