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 Feb 2018 loser
del
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 Feb 2018 loser
del
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you accept compliments for the sake of courtesy
throw them in the trash when they leave
like a plate filled with food, face down because you
dont want to feel rude
you take the insults and
hold them close to your heart
embrace the liquid pain that comes from their cores
and infects your veins with poison
hurt flows through your body, desperation escaping in the form of
tear-blurred eyes and bitten nails scratching at scarred wrists
until you look over at the trash can
i urge you,
draw out a crumpled compliment
for despite being worn
it is no less genuine
 Feb 2018 loser
Rohan P
who broke the moon? its
slivers shatter on tile and you
emptied them in our flowerbeds,
waiting, i think, for the rain.
 Jan 2018 loser
Pagan Paul
Kut
 Jan 2018 loser
Pagan Paul
Kut
.
Pain.

Like sliding down bannisters
made from razor blades.

Like bathing in rose bushes,
swimming in broken glass.

I bought an Emo lawn.
It cuts itself.

Because I'm too busy ...

... cutting Me.



© Pagan Paul (04/10/17)
.
For Claire.
I know you joke and make light of your self harm
but I look passed the smiles and bright eyes,
and see the pain still there waiting to come out.
I also know you didn't mean to take it so far this time.
Maybe by the time you read this you will be getting
the help and support you need.
I send love and best wishes for a speedy recovery.
<3 Paul.
 Jan 2018 loser
Scarlet McCall
Poets are bipolar--
musicians, OCD.
I wonder if we’d have much art
without insanity?
Coleridge smoked *****,
Poe preferred whisky.
If not for their addictions
would we have their poetry?
Blake had manic visions;
Hemingway was suicidal.
The heights and depths of their emotions
meant their minds were never idle.
Garcia tripped on acid;
Iommi did *******.
Would they have played such blissful notes
if they weren’t a bit insane?
Yes, we must treat the ill,
we want them with us still--
but if we lost all craziness
there’d  be genius that we’d miss.
When I posted this on Poetfreak a young woman was severely offended and demanded that I apologize. Apologize to...whom?
 Jan 2018 loser
Lost for words
Call a                          doctor/ plumber/ priest
My heart is               broken/ leaking/ deceased

My life is                   worthless/ so much better/ over
I'm going to              **** myself/ tell your wife/ Dover

How could you         leave me/ not know/ lie?
I hope you                return my stuff/ come back/ die

I'll never                   forget you/ forgive you/ go away
I need                        closure/ a DNA test/ to tell you I'm gay

Your                           face/ crotch/ top of your back
Is                                so beautiful/ lumpy/ unusually slack

Your                           ex/ mother/ best friend from school
Always made me      great coffee/ feel inadequate/ drool

I will                           miss you/ **** you/ stalk you forever
That way we can      be friends/ get away with it/ be together

I'm sorry                   you did this/ I did this /we failed
I promise to               pay you/ dye it back/ get you bailed
Please don't               leave me/ show the Polaroids/ write or call


(*delete as appropriate, just delete it all.....)
 Jan 2018 loser
Long To Sail
Fuel
 Jan 2018 loser
Long To Sail
Tonight the lump in my throat has become a boulder
If my eyes decide to bleed I will not find a shoulder
Tonight my veins know not what runs through it
Rage? Anger? Confusion? Sadness? Old lies new heat

Soiled in your fuel of lies I held my fire high
I'm running out of strength to constantly try to try
But now my arms draw near as I soon hold myself in disgrace
And it is now the time has come, I have set myself ablaze.
 Jan 2018 loser
NV
cloud suicide.
 Jan 2018 loser
NV
i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.
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