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 Oct 2018 Sky
A Simillacrum
Is there any wonder
why you're niche?
You speak of specifics,
in a world dumbfounded
by careful detail.
What the hell's the point of this?
Its creator better explain it to me,
if they want my sweet green sheets
of superfluous pillow stuffing.
Is there any wonder
why you're niche?
You speak of specifics,
and America speaks with money,
"Give me Very Easy, as
at the end of the day
I just want to wind down
my thoughts, and turn off my brain."
You're alone,
because you go,
"Hit me with that good ****!
I wanna think and speak
tongues with a loved one,
til we both change into eggs."

This is my song:
Where are my loves?
I thought misery
loved company.
 Sep 2018 Sky
Shaxy
Lone Moon
 Sep 2018 Sky
Shaxy
We are all beautiful
even if we are lonely
just like the moon.
And even in the darkness
we still shine so bright
from within.
again, just like the moon.
 Sep 2018 Sky
Poetoftheway
,how do you know when
(a human is too broken?)




<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
 Sep 2018 Sky
Tess
Teacups
 Sep 2018 Sky
Tess
People
Are like
Teacups

Some are pretty
Some are plain

Some have a saucer
Some don't

Some carry warmth within them
Some turn cold in a blink

Some are the favorites
That we see everyday

But some are lost in the dark
Without their existence being known


But in the end,
They're just teacups
 Sep 2018 Sky
alexa
yesterday
 Sep 2018 Sky
alexa
my hand grazed your bicep
i was jostled, i landed in your chest
i laughed as you joked
suddenly feeling out of breath.
you flashed that smile, threw up a peace sign
i could see your face perfectly.
butterflies playing bumper cars in my stomach
god, the way you were looking at me.
it lasted only a moment,
felt like two or three
but two hours later and i can’t stop thinking about it
there’s no place i’d rather be
than with you right now,
i yearn to meet your eyes
to talk for hours and kiss and laugh
and never say goodbye.  
my head says “don’t catch feelings”
but my heart says “why not?”
you’re sensitive, smart, and funny
and so freaking hot!
i’m trying to stay away, i swear
but it’s so **** hard
because you walked into my life and blinded me
by the perfection you are.
-a.c.b
i know this isn’t my normal, serious writing but there’s this boy and i think he’s wonderful.
 Sep 2018 Sky
belbere
girl, when did you let
your love leave you?
did you think that there
was nothing you could do
about your sweet imperfections
the focus of your obsessions
that make you wish to be born anew?
girl, why do you shrink
from your mother’s touch?
have you lost your faith,
think it won’t do much
good on you, her sweet child,
too broken for prayer
she’d tried to raise a witch
but you only see failure
girl, open your eyes
and clear your head
why not give yourself
some warmth instead.
use ginger, mint and cardamom,
honey and a stick of cinnamon,
to concoct a sweet brew
that will return to you
the love which you are due.
Bitchcraft.

the second spell
 Aug 2018 Sky
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
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