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Night Owl May 2010
Past altered states tests postive and subtle
******* So and so's ­teeter Paleolithic après time puddles
And submit terrible philosp­hies
Ashy stubble ticks politics 
and sacrafice to peer approval ­sacralige
Test probably appears stable
Top patriarch's able sudde­nly to
Pop above submerged tables possibly
After, something tests­ patience awkwardly
Stumps tarot practioners and *** testers poor­ application sterily
Topology plain, astrology scorpio
Torpedo po­wer aptly strikes to pedal antlers sour
Take particular appointments
Stop testing plea­se apply sorted
Terror power and sexless torn pigs
afterhours pen­ and store tips, plow.
Alter simians testosterone, pow!
As scient­ists type papers about sexing tasteless past alligator snouts 
te­sting partly after science takes party alliance south to pawn arm­y 
subtle tipped passion. artsy.
Start these.
pick atoms smarmy
T­ally past all sentences take pride
As stencils test pestilence. A­nd sigh.
The previous alterations simply tried.
And didn't work, ­hence the present
Path lit incandescent.
I'm looking towards the ­east waiting for positivity to peak
You're turned backwards nosta­lgic for something that'll never come repeat.
Coop Lee  Oct 2014
night terror
Coop Lee Oct 2014
the skull and spine of seventy seven men, extracted.
retribution far past putrefaction.
a pile of bones in the center of town, at the corner of washington
& rochambeau.
gather around.

           do you believe in the boogeyman?

a glitch in the darkness.
an echo of rage, high chroma bacteriophage.
every faithless father,
every sister spared,
every ritual sung just right, a brief blackout,
reconfigured pixels of outer night.

                     [bobby’s sega genesis awakens on its own]

thirty three years to the day, he
died on that suncrest boulevard, returned today just to say “hey.”

graveyard family tree and the moon.
first as a manifestation of electromagnetic phenomena
            in a videogame’s cpu. 1993.
second as a fully-fledged entity materialized via videocassette,
            hungry for pizza and pure vengeance. 2001.
third from beneath bedrock, the quarry belly baste,
            a body buried thrice, undead toxic tumescence,    
            a walking corpse heaving black plasma. 2020.

the sequel.
the son.
the spectral chosen one, he
rips out a throat or two, quite fashionably so,
a man about town throttled and disemboweled,
as friends and neighbors stumble and sprint to escape with their own godforsaken skin.
let the bone collection begin.
emerged in afterschool hallways to **** old classmates turned teachers.
emerged in afterhours offices to devour old buddies turned bankers.
emerged in the quiet dark homes of neighborhood flesh and folk.
blood soaked socks.

why? you ask, must all these people die?
vengeance?    no.
that was a lie.
he killed those people for a laugh
& that’s that.
Cat Fiske May 2015
this whole year I have talked to girls in my school,
girls
who wouldn't do things together,
even come together or even talk,

but now were talking,
we've talked,

because the school has lied to us about all these little boy's ****,
and how the boys are allowed to bruise our body's,
steel our souls like it's a game,

why was he allowed?
to get away with it,

because the school and policemen played this game like ****** fools,
and they too encouraged the assault and abuse,
to girls in the hall, or walking to school up the street,

even to girls in cafeterias,
afterschool,

were perfumes of pretty girls were stolen by high school boys,
as they laid on cafeteria floors,
the only scent left was the old lunchroom food stench,

and the high school boy's,
***** *** sweat,

but you belived closeing the doors to the lunchroom,
afterhours,
will stop future harm,

but closeing a door,
wont give a **** victim closer,

espesally when the game continues,
and the odds are stacked up against the women,
where to walk from class to class,

becomes a danger,
and a threat,

because girls who I go to school with have stopped wearing,
that **** red dress,
or tub tops, cutshirts, short shorts,

anything that,
could get you hurt,

because the girls who I go to school with have to wear,
there daddys sweatshirt and sweatpants,
covering
their whole body's while trying to say,

"Im not ****,"
"Don't pick me,"


they are screaming their hopes,
of "Don't Pick Me's" because of the game,
the game of slapping *****,

in the man packs of fives,
to the one girl trying to get to her next class by herself,

the school grounds are no longer a place that's safe,
where you have to know every corner that has a missing camera,
or one turned off,

or if the man pack pull you into the bathroom,
and take off your top,

you're going to be the one,
who gets the book thrown at them,
because the five boys,

pulled the one of you,
into the boys bathroom,

and it doesn't matter why,
or how you got there,
cause school doesn't care,

tells you that you are wrong,
and it's all your fault,

and the five to pull you in,
walk around the school all day,
getting talked up,

like they rolled snake eyes on a pair of six's,
as your stuck like a prisoner in the office trying almost begging,

for some sort of justice,
and every time you talk,
there replys make you feel like a ****,

but you just want to call your mom,
and they wont let you,

so you have to sit and wait, and,
you don't remember if they took your picture & got it with your face,
but you can remember each and everyone of there faces,

like there the only faces a blind person will ever see,
as if there horrible image can't get away from you,

you try,
because you should only see beauty,
though blind eyes,

and your eyes have been scorned,
because five boys tore one girls shirt,

and these boys play the game,
the game of ****, and let me take her picture without her consent,
but that's not even all their rules,

because if they don't do that to you,
they publicly shame you,

they come up to you,
slap your *** so hard,
you instantly see a bruise,

and you have to tell your mother when you get home,
and she has to take pictures of it,

take you to the police station,
where they tell you,
the school should of just handled it,

and in a town so ******* worried about pills,
and drugs,

maybe they should worry about the game they taught their sons,
because the girls may pop pills and drink underanged,
but does that give a man an excuse,

to commit a ****?
and I know it's not just the girls who suffer the most,

I feel though it all,
the guys who have gotten the worse treatment,
kept what happened hidden,

because girls are smart,
and we know all the men got away with it,

so if one or two girls wanna **** a dude,
you think our police or school will do **** for the dudes too?
if anything they'd get publicly shamed,

and what high school boy wants that,
when they were taught to play a game,

and someone,
played the same ****,
**on them.
a bunch of girls keep getting harassed like this. all of this is true sadly this is based on true stuff, none happened to me like this, but I had my phone stolen and the school handled it the same way, and I've been *****, so I'm a support person for people at school, and I try to help them get though it, and make sure they get a police report filed even though they tell them and there parents they don't need too. and try to give them my best support emotionally. Its tough, but we can all get though things, but other things need to change, and yeah I have talked to guys who have been *****, but they didn't do anything.
Butch Decatoria Dec 2015
The city's a blur
ceasless
as the rotation of night
into speeding flight...
a parallax.

This town's deranged
greasy
like the hands of perverts
afterhours.


I don't understand
that you're still here,
Mystere'
while nothing happens
in this billboard valley
with its mannequin loves
and ****** students;

nothing comes of this
dustbowl
with Christmas blinking in the center
and promises on the cusp
of learning / curves
say Huh?

I know, you say
there's a fabulous place
beneathe
the buzzing web of profits
its busy electric streets
business of passing feet

a wonderful niche
besides
the lions and tigers and Cher
(Oh My!)
secrets only you would know
of its afterglow
because you call it

home.
Sin city as the muse
AFJ  Nov 2014
Define It. (Love)
AFJ Nov 2014
Same old poem, same old theme.
A love lost, heart broken, with dreams..
I said I love you. she said. define it.
she thought id fear her question, but really..I didn't mind it....

eloquence, heaven sent, from Aphrodite herself.
the allure of the angels, where afterhours are felt.

late night dreaming of the Goddess in you,
And my tongue isn't speaking from a partisan view.

the honor of honesty, your naked soul is what caught me.
scared to death of steep hills and this one was rocky.

but your blessings brought me courage, & your beauty is hope.
we live less than a park away, but your still thinking Knope.
ya we talk.. recreationally....
with all that love you posses, just a ration to me?
I know that rings cost money, but patience is free,
so let me tell you why I love you, then she turned to face me..

and I couldn't speak.
Inside, I could weep..
but how do I tell her she's the reason that for years I don't sleep..
a dreamer, turned dreamless...
the worst of diseases,
because others take your body..
but without your soul you need Jesus.

I told her every time I blink, I think.
and when I think,
I pray your blinking too.

weird way to describe it..
ya but I **** at speeches...
so she made me write it.

I wrote I love you, on a paper,
p.s once unfolded this statement will always be true.

with a rose in the middle, and a personal riddle,

a picture of the first time we met, and a drawing of a heart..
she said ...that's the best you got?

I said no, that's my worst, but if you don't love me as I'm cursed,
then you don't deserve the saying.
if you understand what I'm saying?

she said no....
Well, i **** at speeches.
I'm not good at writing too,
nor am I good at defining the word love from out the blue.

but I can tell you, I'll never cheat,
never flirt or take a peek,
ill delete,
every girl from my phone in just a week,
never one for deceit,
always pull back your seat,
on lonely days without contact I promise to go deep,
to understand your soul and the secrets you keep,
the blessings and curses and the reasons you weep,
hold you closer to the universe, caressing your cheek.
and if that's not enough ill even cook you some meat.

more importantly though,
I will forever grow,
and our hearts can mend together and resemble a glow.

she said.. but you can do all those things to any girl you meet..
I said but ill only do it for you...
she said why...?
I said, *** I love you...
she said Define it.




-afj
Mims Aug 2017
I can't stop feeling this privileged pain of existing
I wouldn't be alive without it

This anxiety that clings to me
Reminds me I'm breathing

I'm a child of the night
And with that beauty comes the fright

The pain and heartache felt in my universes afterhours

My mind towers over me
My stupid-smart brain making me think of non-reality

This feeling, this love, this ache,
Has always been a part of me

I claim I am no stranger to lost love or heartache
And everytime I think of this I feel my heart break

Oh how boring it must be for those who simply leave, or never felt the need

Summer is ending. Along with the world.

I told you this long ago,
You probably don't remember.  

But I,
Always remember.  

I retain information to a fault,
And I always find fault in the information I retain.

I've said it before,
I'll say it again, I,
Am no stranger to pain.
No stranger to 'less than friends'
Changes without compromise

I feel like I've wasted my entire life.

I feel stuck, I feel broken.
I haven't enjoyed each moment carefully,
And haven't found one moment of clarity in my teenage diary,

My thoughts aren't on the edge of extinction,
But our conversations might be.

I don't think we realized how much we ****** each other up until I tried to love again,
I tried to make new friends.

I'm defensive and bitter,
I've never been a quitter
So sit your *** down!
And lets talk about this.

Its late and I'm tired.
But I miss you
And hiatuses make me realize i do.
And maybe I don't mean anything to you,
Not anymore at least,
But the least I deserve is an explanation,
A conversation,
Make time, pull your reservation and give me your ****** explanation!

I don't care if its an exageration.  

Maybe I care,

Some.

But I'm tired, and alone with my thoughts,
And I usually make a point not to do that.
But sleep escapes me and so does time
And I might not be 'living my best life'
But only I can be this insane way,

Have you ever met anyone else like me?
I pray you haven't,
My mind says I'm easy to replace.  

But lets ignore that and assume my psyche is lying to me.

It wouldn't be the first time that happened.
Written at 3:23 am. This one is long guys I know
Third Eye Candy Feb 2021
While purging a keg in the afterhours, pondering the smithy of my iron will to dour.
I clutch an unearthed doubloon with my eye-teeth beguiled by the span of ravenous.
Oaken coils of smoke barrel through the haze of indistinct cherubs
With their ***** war-paint and hooligan charms… wilting in tandem.
I join the delirious marmalade of a neighborhood denial
Adrift upon turbulent silences in loud places…. with my manufacture
Organic and tipsy-fizzle with a hoard of uncomfortable
glum.

Then a Cab.
Ryan Dement  Aug 2021
Afterhours.
Ryan Dement Aug 2021
Every time you fall asleep,
something
nearby
awakes.

— The End —