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I should waste more time revising. I feel as though it may benefit me; may I extrapolate the fact I stated waste more time, not spend. I could use that time practicing songs on my bass or beating Mario’s *** on the GameCube. I feel mediocre but that’s okay because I AM mediocre; and a sell-out. I should make that point clear. I smoke; not like a chimney, it depends on if I feel like combusting into a cloud of tobacco ash. I would happily crementate my being. I would happily get hit by a car and become the road ****. I would happily fall from a concrete building into a six foot deep cavern. Passive suicidal thoughts at eight in the mourning; just like coffee but it doesn’t make you need to ****. Just those bitter moments you need to get your day started on the wrong side of the bed.
Excuse my spellings of combusting and crementate...both mean to burn in some way or another... This was the only time i stressed about exams and i never really stresses. im glad its over. i do smoke a lot more now.
Justin Hodges Oct 2012
I was ten
It was the end of my fourth grade summer
You were returning from a two month vacation to your father’s house
I couldn’t wait to come over and play gamecube with you
My mother said, if he’s home alone one more time, you can no longer be friends
We pulled into an empty driveway

She made me tell him myself
I listened to him cry
I was never taught how to handle my feelings
Red faced, scratched throat, tearless
I was never taught that some things children were not supposed to handle

I was thirteen
It was seventh grade
The teacher tells me she forgets sometimes that I am not an adult
The pastor tells me I have been granted with such great understanding
The parent tells me I am disrespectful
I say, *******
They say, not in my house
I say, ******* again
They hit me
I say nothing

I was seventeen
It was my senior year of high school
I spent night after night arms deep in the purging of your bad decisions
I had poured myself entirely into our friendship
Excuse me for expecting your understanding
Some affection for my wounds
Something in return for all of the lying, the listening, the sinning I did for your happiness
I am sorry you could only respond with unlabeled hate letters
Crossed out but not indecipherable
I apologize for loving you

He told his journal that I write emo poetry
So I cut out all of our connection
Ripped each memory out like pages of a notebook
You preferred composition notebooks
Have you ever noticed ripping pages from a composition notebook always seems to leave pieces behind
I am still clinging to pieces of our past

I was never taught how to handle my feelings
I have never felt comfort like ink blacking out a page
You couldn’t see that these splattered words are the way I bleed
My “I love yous” are pleas to look past my scars
I am too afraid to go any deeper than paper cuts
I have no idea what could be hiding inside

I am eighteen
I am tired of disconnected reality
Of ****** up mental reasoning
Of telling you I don’t know what will make me feel better
I just need to feel real

There are only so many ways to drown out your hurt
With pain, with eating, with writing, with prayer
Each builds its own layer of fat
Makes you thick skinned in more than one way

But each is avoidance
What will dwell in you until you let it breath
Let it live as a part of you

The other night I had trouble sleeping
I tried laying my hand across my chest to follow the rhythm of my heart beating
I felt no response
There was simply just too much in the way
Willy McGee Dec 2014
I didn't think it was going to be any good.
The Party,
My friends.
Rediscovered pesto to Arnold the govnah' in Total Recall
I walked in their door a thousand times for their entertainment
each time as a new character,
He's got a wii so he can play gamecube,
Bring your guitar
The fridge had a paper snowflake with ******* shaped designs
You know why I like the kitchen?
The lighting on my friends faces,  I can enjoy everyones expression
Drinking game? Who can't moonwalk, place your bets, take off your shoes

Pack of dudes showed up, Female hosts forget to invite ladies sometimes
Don't leave! Why? Your the prettiest girl here
oh no the neighbor is coming to complain but
If I know my sister like I think I do,
the two will be shooting whiskey on the roof in no time

I took a group to visit my *******,
I knocked and sang at the door but she stiffed me
Probably a mistake but you can't start a fire without a...
so we left and played "dancing in the dark" in the parking lot

.... ....... ...

Why am I singing to you?
Your half asleep doing takes for my new voicemail
I told you a story about

TheAA Duracell battery who wanted to be friends with the 9Volts
The throw pillow who wanted to be a real pillow
The doorknob who broke herself on purpose
so intruders couldn't see what she had inside

I didn't think it was going to be any good.
The Party,
My friends.
Jerome Facione Dec 2013
'I want to be your first so bad'
She whispers in my ear
Near the warm TV glow
But the flow: so slow from her lips.

In complete belief, I believe
Her breaths,
Despite her face: dimmed by dim lights.
The Gamecube murmurs and my heart takes flight.

Then reaching,
To touch her face,
She redirects me to the base
Of her hips; changing clips

From love to lust.
Perhaps she must...

But not for me.
Not me.

To fall for a friend,
In the end, is all.
Carlos Salinas Dec 2015
The thunderous rumbling of a busted exhaust pipe disturbs another Gamecube binge on a rainy autumn night.
Is she ever gonna get that fixed? Makes that Altima sound like a 1930’s car.
I  know too well by now the tapping of the steps coming up the stairs. Rushed and soft, just like her knocking on my door.
11:00 pm. “Just got off work” –says she. Like any other night in which she  came to only 'chat', we end up naked on the carpet, I’m on top of her, my hands laying siege on hers, holding tightly, thrusting wildly.
We wear each other out like teenagers in heat; I want another round.
Stamina depletion: complete.  
I ask her to stay the night. I wanna sleep by her side, her body next to mine. I wanna hear the little sounds of her breathing, feel that she is mine.  Like any other night in which she  came to only 'chat', she replies: "Someone is waiting for me”.
Alvin Jun 2017
You’re so boring
For some reason you wanna paint in between the lines
And wear jeans and a hoodie
When you know we’re bomb at painting magical exploding rainbows
And we’d look hot as **** in ***** shorts and some weird *** parachute looking shirt
You do our makeup normally
When we should be drawing our eyeliner into dolphins or some ****
Why wear pink lipstick when we can wear black?
You always make us stay quiet when someone’s being a ****
And for gods sake, why can’t I have ****** relations with that stranger?
Well crap thats a bad line I should probably delete that
But I won’t.
We should make a sign and protest something ,
You know you want to.
And come on,
Live a little,
Why do you gotta find a job right now when we could be spending all our time eating cheetos
And playing gamecube
Let’s go to a party,  I wanna dance.
I don’t care if we should be asleep by 10

My brain says no ally,
We have to grow up.
But what if we don’t want to?
What if we wanna live fun and die young?
Why’d we stop being friends with that girl she was pretty cool and we made out a few times
She didn’t do anything wrong?
My brain says that’s how life works,
That girl isn’t going anywhere in life we need to be surrounded by success
But why brain?
Why is success so boring?
My brain says I don’t know guys
I dont know
Valerie  Jul 2019
Valerie Jul 2019
Wandering through this hostel, it was never quite my home
Different rooms, different people, different stories
How is it that their circumstances became my life…
Is it worth my time, my effort, my happiness… my sanity

Walking through the faux wood doorway, photos on the walls
Distant memories of what it was to laugh… and to love
Broken glass on the floor, the frames long ago shattered…
Much like our dreams of happily ever after.

My beautiful crimson sofa, turned into a bed.
The bed of a 60 year old alcoholic who I call dad
Tables converted to dressers, pill bottles litter the rug…
No longer a place to live, but a place to slowly die

An empty sink, an empty wine bottle, an empty fridge
What does it matter to cook a meal that won’t be eaten
Fast food wrappers fill the trash, among the cheap beer cans
Much like the stench of burnt coffee fills my nose

A ***** bathroom, for ***** boys, with whom I share this space
Toilet seat always raised, **** stains lining the bowl
Beard hair, toothpaste, razors… that dingy ring around the tub
A garbage full of used tissues, the floor littered with clothes

A closed door that leads to a black room, with black walls
Black metal, gory video clips from youtube, hateful faces flashing
Food wrappers litter the floor, along with knives and guns
Hatred and pain seep from the keyhole as I avert my eyes

To the trains and plains comforter, a dreamcatcher hangs nearby
Action heros, matchbox cars, an unmade bed, overtaken by imagination
The 13 inch t.v. switching between Disney and an old Gamecube
The smell of a sweaty mohawk, and a feeling of unabashed loved

Until finally I can retreat into hiding, to a bed with a story or two
Clothes to be folded, empty wine glasses, ******* on the bedside table.
I shy from the mirror that hangs on the wall, and drift off slowly to sleep
Drowning myself in forgetfulness, wishing it were that easy… to forget
ryan  Jun 2018
ryan Jun 2018
I crave the unfamiliar, while simultaneously dreading it. Excitement but with apprehension. The familiar is not mundane, instead it is comforting. Comfort does not equate with weakness. It is love.

I want to go back to Mary and Jay's living room. Chicken nuggets, ranch dressing, and Coke in a glass. I remember that night Brian and I played Gamecube while I had an asthma attack. I could hardly breath but was as happy as I had ever been.

My life is a product of grace and benevolence. I've come to expect it in others, which is a mistake. It is something I should provide. Besides my needless prejudices, I convey selfishness. This is misguided. I was born with a wreath of flowers in my hair and a bouquet in my hands. The God of Love smiled upon me. This much I should return in kind.

— The End —