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Audrey Lipps Nov 2014
Her hand grazed my knee first;
black nail polished fingers
filled with golden rings and solitude

Her hand slid up past my knee next,
A chilling whisper of a husky voice,
"I'm bisexual, whatever, who cares?"
A tone so sleek, so ****,
Uncaring and unrelenting

Her hand moved inward this time,
her warm breath pressed to my neck,
questions of sexuality and culture
in her ******* rasp and
I melted that way, I ******* melted that day

A level booming below,
A band of drummers,
Drumming of ambition and heartbreak,
A base-dropping attitude from Athens

She leaned in first, her smoky green eyes
******* mine and I looked up,
with a feeling of hot temperance on my tongue,
She kissed me,
sweet and bold and the evening was full
of firsts because she grabbed me,
so fast and forward and
dimmed the mood and began her journey
into transcendental fluidity

We swayed to the beat of casuality,
a beat unfamiliar in my world of seriousness,
and she grabbed my hand and pulled her lips
closer, closer
and whispered "I'll get us a taxi"

Beautiful women make my heart flutter,
and beautiful women with smoky green eyes
and blonde dreadlocks make my speech stutter
but I followed her into the abyss of wonder
holding her hand onto the grassy concrete,
our breath white and our spirits hazy

The taxi home reminded me of New York streets,
and it made me forget of Oxford priorities and
senseless irony and she kissed me twice,
her **** fingers searching for answers
in the 2:30am moonlight

She kissed me in the elevator,
A familiar scent of the haunted ancients and
her sly character left me breathless, an
adventurous eighteen-year-old searching for
wisdom and a twenty-something searching for
a definition, we collided

Her dorm, lined with yellow lights and
colorful elephants, a comforting essence of
security and warmth

She grabbed my waist and
turned me around,
I lost my breath in her
seductive sway,
She kissed me hard and pushed me fast,
onto her pillows of a cool fragrance

She screamed once and I screamed twice,
A fantastic pain muffled by the sound
of old heat lamps

"You'll forget this," I said
"Please," she said, "I'm practically sober."

We continued for hours, her spirit quick,
unceasing,
persistent
She smiled exquisitely,
with slanted eyes, she licked her lips

We slept soundlessly,
Her hand where it started, above my knee
and below my waist,
Black nail polished fingers held
my hand until morning,
a soft kiss on the shoulder blade
and I awoke to the chirping of morning

And I left with a sense of softness,
not accomplishment and
I'll see the smoky-eyed,
yellow-dread girl once more,
And I hope it's when I don't know
what
for
Riq Schwartz  Aug 2014
F5
Riq Schwartz Aug 2014
F5
I fear I've become
formulaic and dishonest
though honesty has never
flown freely when I bleed.
I instead inscribe
insolence, decadence
dolled up in demand and
hand picked participles
to show my snappy wordsuits
down this two dimension catwalk.
I've tasted the fraudulent freeverse fantasy
and washed out what I've done
years past, former lives,
servitude to scheming rhymes
and tracking down the feet
meter by meter.
See!
I own the jargon,
jot it down freely
with a casuality undeserved.
Read carefully, cause herein spouts my effort.

Slink back to default,
once in whiles,
show them that you
got it still.
Baring teeth or
gleaming smiles
differ at souls'
windowsills.

And simply so, it seems again
like pox against my aching skin
I simply substitute some time
to rhyme and let it all begin...
Sometimes you need to
SG Rose Aug 2018
Let’s make up
in the messiest of ways
and have a battle rage between our
tongues and finger tips as we claw the
forgiveness out of each other.
K Balachandran Feb 2019
Every night keeps within it's protective cupped palms
At least this much; few bright moments of calm.
But she was a night so perfectly wedded to the dense dark,
Even in love, doing diabolic best, as if nothing else'd work
Never occured no other,in her thoughts or deeds ever.
But he seemed to be not  aware of his eye sight's fatal error,
Always read all her printer's devil just as if all of it's  right,
Her many decisive acts finely co ordinated,  finished him quite,
Love the first casuality, gave an impetus, then followed the rest.
He who fell head over the heals for her, slumped face down in the pit
alexis hill Feb 2016
wake the **** up
as if apathy is
more than half of me
casually this takes lives

and I'm another common casuality
"the poor me" type of tragedy

no you're sleeping
yeah you wish you were just dreamin
sittin on cloud 9
passin time with time

I'm trying to find the type of
"showin up for life"
kind of mentality
I want to exchange these flames for a halo

no you're not sleeping
wake the **** up
yeah you wish you were dreamin
I'm running out of patience
wake the **** up

next year I might be 23
not much to show for all of it
dually noted- I want to make a difference
so I'll have no regrets when I'm lying
on that bed losing consciousness and dyin

but I'm alive now right?
I must have meaning
but feels like
where ever I am
sunshine or snow

all the seasons go
I guess I was in it
- into some *******, for all the
wrong reasons

it's always the reasons
and reasons
are just masked excuses
I don't understand your language
HUH?

speak the **** up
and stop it
get the **** up
stop drowning is self doubt
just stop it
pick yourself the **** up
stop this

no you're not sleeping
wake the **** up
yeah you wish you were dreamin
I'm running out of patience
wake the **** up
I admit that
you've stripped me
of all I once was,
tearing away
each layer I
so carefully created
and clung to
with such brazen
irreverence and zeal,
but though I stand before you
naked and weak
I feel no shame
for that one
small victory
shall be mine
to own and embrace
lest it be
my sole possession,
for this time
you shall not win
and tear my heart
from my body,
a gruesome trophy
to place upon your mantle
with all the molded metal
and feigned smiles,
for from the ruin
you have left
in the wake of your
obscenity, like
the phoenix
from the ashes
I shall rise
with wings of flame.
A creature unknown
to this wanton world
in which I fail to exist
or to any other,
destined to become
just another
casuality on the
hands of the world.
Isabela Aragon Aug 2021
If I could be brutally honest, here’s what I’d tell you. I’m tired of your mind games — the same ones you deny you do. You establish something casual but then you go on to saying and doing things that make me believe otherwise. You tell me you want me but you don’t act like it. You say you miss me but you go days without ever messaging me.  You make me feel so replaceable. Disposable. You’re hot then you’re cold. You’re sweet enough to keep me around but you don’t put in the work for anything more. It scares me how you could change your mind in the blink of a second, or bat your eyes elsewhere the minute I’m gone. What makes it worse is that I know you do. You have no ******* idea how ****** it is to be outright told you’ve been ******* around with somebody else. It hurts me to know that you think you could fool me into believing all of the things you say. You don’t say it because you mean it — you say it because it’s what I want to hear. You say it because you know you have this hold over me. You say it because you know I’d cave. You don’t make me feel like I’m worth it, and you definitely don’t make me love myself more. With you, it’s just messy. Cheap thrills. Lies on top of lies. Sweet nothings whispered to my ear. ***** little secrets. Emptiness. I never expected anything from you. You give me slight doses, enough to keep me around, but never enough to assure me that this is all worth it. Don’t play with my feelings just because you’re unsure of your own. I’m not a gamble. I always thought that messing around with someone older meant that I wouldn’t be playing these games anymore but clearly you’re not mature enough to know what you want. I’m done settling for whatever this is. Get drunk, or stay sober — just keep your **** mess away from me.
a personal piece
touka  Oct 2018
writer's block
touka Oct 2018
mist stretches along the tops of trees, bosoming coldly over the brush
like the bodies of lost souls

like the words that hang from the page
withering, wilting ghosts
that threaten to slither from their place
wobbling wraiths I'd traced;
my heart's yearn to spit its hopeless thought -
reduced to something like child scribbles,
like nonsense I'd etched with my non-dominant hand
with blithering, faltering pen

I swing like the moon between two phases
sure, unsure
how long will I sit here?
a few lunations scramble past my head
words on words on words
blend together in sequences of lines
that I no longer recognize
as anything close to cognizant

I read the lines again
dismantle, disassemble them
eyeful work;
like science sates its spirit
by prodding at the seams of the earth
no fear that it may unfix
the stars that string like stanchions in the sky
heaven's performance toppling

my words collapse before me
nothing more than a brief hiccup
before their quiet, noon oblivion
miscalculated blots that do nothing but spoil the purity of the page
I crinkle it, toss it behind me
grab a new sliver of square
uncrinkled, uninked
I stare into the ceaseless white
brinking, unblinking alabaster
immaculate - the center of nonexistence
so foreigning; a burgeoning sense of casuality within me

I remind myself that it is a piece of paper

but do I dare soil it?
ebony tweens from the pen as I press
callous deflowering;
assaulting the page with senseless drivel I will realise
five to ten seconds after I write it that I hate
what
Cameron Banowsky Apr 2018
Quit acting out
Stop running your mouth
This isn't the place
You don't have the crowd

So what to do now?
Deaf ears are, by nature, not tuned to hear.
Skip the line and do what you stepped out to find

Paint over me
Replace the image with something nice
Like a bowl of fruit or a cup of rice.
But make sure to fully apply
You can cover me up
But my voice doesn't die

Spread my name and sprinkle in lies.
Make me look like this bad guy.
It's all good now, and I honestly have given up on how.
So erase those memories.  
The ones you share with the one smashing these keys.
You gotta get out the paint,
roll up your jeans and start to paint over me

But like with any period of time
There is always some type of find
Discovery comes when you allow yourself to be kind

Paint over me
I don't wish to be
Another follower turned casuality
I'll walk away for free
Just make sure that when I leave
You paint over me
When the urge to reach out hits
Remember that wounds heal bit by bit
And if you could just please
Let me be
Paint over me
Tyler Harper  Dec 2021
lonely
Tyler Harper Dec 2021
i would take centuries to understand
the woman in you.
the woman in me.

would you take a day to understand the man in me?
the man in you?


the silence of it.


a torrental battle.
this highest casuality.


atleast the dead could rest.
i tire of these demands
from some one I can't
quite point to.

— The End —