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SM Jun 2019
Little boy, I wish you could learn
What you’ve done wrong,
But I am afraid no one will ever put you in place
Well into your adulthood.
Little boy, I hope you learn.

Where are your parents now?
Letting you sit at a park
To torment me, someone twice your age.
You stand here now to harass two girls
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Your voice echoes with me, permanently.
While you have the freedom,
To move along with your life and forget.
Your comments about us are disgusting.
They surround my skin like the sticky summer air
And leave me feeling gross.

Do you ever think of your mother when you say these things?
Maybe your sister?
A friend?
How could you treat a girl like this
How could you not think of them getting treated in this way?
I guess you’re just a little boy and don’t realize.

You must have learned this behavior from someone in your life
Maybe your father?
A brother?
A friend?
How could you have never been thought better
Has no one put you in place?
Told you this isn’t okay?

Little boy, I hope you realize it is it okay to tell people to make out
That it’s not okay to sexualized women
Minding their own business.
That it isn’t okay to torment any stranger,
or any person in your life for that matter.
Little boy, I hope your learn before it’s too late.
We love being a lesbian and being hyper-sexualized by CHILDREN! It’s absolutely disgusting and I will never forget this experience I had at the park. Teach your children to respect women. anyways, happy pride month! my gay self is looking forward to celebrating and honoring the struggles of LGBT individuals who have fought the many years before me. I love each and every one of you reading this. Have a good day!
SM May 2019
He leans back in a rusting fold out chair,
Resting his eyes from the burn of yellow light,
Illuminating the cracked concrete floor.
He places a glowing cigarette between his lips,
Brushing his stained hands against the scruff of his beard.
He exhales,
And white puffs of smoke float out of his lungs,
Into the darkness of the night.
Swarms of ants circle like a storm around sticky spilt beer on the ground.
The panels across the walls shake,
As Jimmy Buffet’s voice blares from the radio,
An echoing voice inside his head.
The green light emitted from the radio reads 4:09 am,
Every inhale tastes like the irresistible stench of gasoline,
Destructive, yet consuming.
The fridge buzzes like white noise,
Blending into the sound of chirping crickets and rain.
The sticky summer air wraps itself around his skin.
A glass rests on the counter, filled to the brim.
The bubbles dance, tempting him.
SM May 2019
I always felt the warmth of your embrace
When I ate melting Mac and cheese.
The bright yellow cheese gleamed like your eyes
I saw your smile in smirking elbow noodles, curled upwards.
Ham and bread crumbs sprinkled the top,
Creating the perfect symphony of savory on my taste buds.
The blueberry muffins always tasted so sweet...

I miss your sweetness.

The call of your voice echoes now
As a distant shout for dinner to be served.
It’s been years since you’ve passed,
But I still hear your words call down the hall
floating over Jeopardy playing on the television.

I can’t hear your voice anymore saying you love me,
But I can always hear it haunt me when I eat Mac & Cheese.
It’s the only time I can hear voice...

I miss your voice.

The smell of Mac & Cheese makes me sick now.
Flavor doesn’t dance on my taste buds anymore.
The cheese tastes cold.
The blueberries taste bitter.
The savory ham now tastes sorrowful.
And the bread crumbs feel like sand scraping my mouth.

No one else makes it like you did,
Even if the recipe is the same.
But I still eat it.
Because I feel you with me when I do.
It’s the only time I do...

I will always miss the warmth of your melting Mac & Cheese,
And the warmth of your embrace.
I miss you.
SM Jul 2018
A haven of for happiness and company;
Intoxicated minds meet together bubbling here.
Drunken men chatter away at the bar,
The brick walls keep out the cold winter, and hold in the warm energy,
Television screens illuminate the room with little light,
Flickering away, the room appears dim and dreary,
But cheers and laughter brighten the room instead,
The door suddenly swings open where a man emerges,
But the cold breeze stalks behind, inescapable of the harsh winter,
Alone, he settles on a single barstool.

His hand rises and signals the bartender for a drink,
The woman behind the counter shuffles around,
The glass is filled to the brim and the bubbles dance, tempting him,
The bartender slides his drink across the counter
His eyes light up at the sight, only for seconds,
Soon residing to their hollow, sunken state,
The drink presses against his lips, the fizzing liquid quickly vanishes,
The glass is slammed on the counter, empty,
A want for more.

His hand rises and signals the bartender for another drink,
Bloodshot eyes briefly peer up at the T.V.
Quick to look down at his newly obtained beverage, fizzing away again,
His body looms over the glass clutched in his hands,
His body, still unsettled completely, dressed in clothing worn away,
A fading white t-shirt, tucked into his blue jeans stained with dirt,
A brown leather jacket, draped off his body towards the floor,
He unzips it and takes it off, free of its weight.

His hand rises and signals the bartender for another drink,
He leans back and sinks into his chair and lets out a deep sigh,
stretching out his arms, closing his eyes for a moment, resting,
The room, suddenly erupts in a fury of excitement,
People cheer as one screen displays a celebrating team,
Not bothered to glance up at the screen, continued his interest in his drink,
Surrounded, but alone he remains.
He pushes forward, the three empty glasses back across the counter,
Slowly standing up, grabbing his jacket and making his way towards the door,
Another place he pursues,
Stumbling out into the cold breeze again, the door swings closed,
shutting him out again.
empathize with the common man. don't assume anything about him.
SM Jan 2018
A coliseum tucked into corners
A flickering lantern
A full room with hollow walls
A wooden chip stained with the scent of charcoals
A heavy palm and swollen skin
A pulled ponytail
A sickly sunken face
A front porch swing swaying
A blister on wood pierced flesh
A body resides,
idk whats happening but enjoy
SM Dec 2017
From the outside, the overwhelming brick structure appears as a haven to heal for the sick, but from within, it serves as a prison, where the sickness terrorizes the inmates doomed here. A bright red cross glows above in the moonlight, appearing as a beacon of hope, despite all those within the structure feeling hopeless. The large glass doors slide open by themselves, welcoming in all who dare to come near. Beyond the glass, white coats rush by in a blur in all different directions, hurrying to serve their independent duties of checking blood pressure, feeding patients, giving baths, monitoring heart rates, and giving medication to the helpless.
A heavy metal door swings open to reveal a labyrinth of a hundred overwhelming hallways. The white walls extend for what seems like miles. A fluorescent buzzing light runs along the ceiling to the end of the corridor. The bright hall strains the human eye as it stares into the abyss of the neverending white hallway, illuminated by the blinding lights. The only color emerges at the very end of the passage, where a faint red exit sign glows. It appears as the only escape for those within, but only reveals a staircase to the other hundred halls beyond this one.
The sagging eyes of a receptionist light up for a moment at the sight of another living human at this early of an hour, but the excitement is not reciprocated by the other, due to the sorrow of being among these white walls again. The only other creatures she often sees here resemble zombies attached to IV bags, who slowly stumble down the hall to get a taste of the freedom beyond their prison beds. They desire health. They desire happiness. They desire escape. The shoes of the visitor clack across the cold tile, passing by identical rooms filled with dormant bodies on bed rest. Most bodies are told they must only stay a couple of days. But a couple days turn into a couple weeks. A couple weeks turn into a couple months. A couple months can turn into the end of their lives. The visitor wanders in a maze of all the bodies who appear the same, hopeless and trapped they are still.
Gray indented chairs from being sat in for too long line against the walls of this boxed in room. The lights are duller here. Waiting. The visitors can finally rest their eyes, they can finally rest their soul. Magazines fall off the wall, unread and unkept for months. The chips stacked in the vending machine taste stale, but still the most delicious dinner available to the visitors who have made these indented chairs their home away from home.
The only sound escaping into the hall from the patients rooms are quiet sobs and beeping heart monitors. Among the rooms, the visitors kneel alongside the bed with a rosary in hand. A prayer escapes the lips of the grieving as death dances over the bodies of their loved ones. The bodies are still alive, but the bodies are not living. The rooms are stenched with sorrow, sickness, and sterile. White sheets, white walls, white light. The white fills the rooms, but darkness still looms. Each room reeks of bleach that cleanses the metal instruments and IV stands, while it destroys any sense of humanity for the bodies trapped within. The blinds on the window are shut, keeping out all of the outside world, besides a single beam of moonlight that shines in the only hope left in the darkness of this dull night for the bodies of the alive, but not living.
I know these are supposed to be poems but it's fine, don't worry about it. I had to describe a setting that makes me frightened or uneasy for my English class. I decided to describe a hospital at 2 in the morning because thats kinda spooky. Hospitals are where many lives are brought into this world and many are lost. People are crying in the halls, saying prayers, and finding out terrible news so often and their was something unsettling about a hospital to me at 2am when I was a young child, so I decided to base the essay off that. Read it if you'd like. Thanks!
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