Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Drip,
drip,
drop.

Pawn to E6;
die for your Queen.
Lift your head and
I'll lift my spirits,
but only as long as my
hands stay clean.
You're worried about the
future?
I'm worried about the past.
I'm scared of what
maybe
might've
couldn't last.

Beep,
beep,
bang.

Is it still just a word
if I know what it means?
Would the ground disappear if I
told it to scream?
By the works of my hand, I'll
fix this broken wagon,
hop on the train to
Never-Never Land.

Tick,
tick,
tock.

You think happiness sits at my doorstep?
You think I didn't work for this?
I can't help but cry when I see
you bleeding out;
the muscle that kept you alive for so long
is killing you with each
decisive pump.
It's not worth fighting for.
It's not a dream anymore.
It's not like holding your breath in a room
full of silence;
it's going to kiss & tell,
like in old folk-lore.

Snip,
snip,
snap.

Queen to E6,
**** the pool boy you
slept with so many times.
I fell in love with twins and
I kissed them simultaneously;
their love was sweet and our ties were thin,
their breath together was
like ******,
and I never counted how many
shots I did.
I want to

drip,
drip,
drop

my ties;
I want to know what I can fix.
Queen kills pawn
at E6,
the ****** in her eyes - like a lover's
dismiss.
Written as a slam poem - read it out loud to get the full effect!
You ****** me over*
When you promised me those long nights wrapped in your arms
You ****** me over
With that show stopping smile that ripped the air from my lungs leaving me speechless
You ****** me over
And I loved every minute if it
And if I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing and I guess that's when
I ****** myself over
       -n.p.
When everything that's tangible distracts your lonely head
And weaves you like a tapestry on someone else's thread
...
You'll find that the embroidery will never seem to match
Designs that were original, the bias is the catch
...
What was in the distance transformed when you got close
And yet you tried to view it as something less morose
...
Possessive with your senses, especially your sight
You caught the kind of blindness that gives itself the right
...
To walk around the edges, periphery askew
And look to aberrations to tell you what to do
It's time to face the facts!
People always paint out a picture of how one is supposed to be.
Some paint a picture of you saying  you will become the next Alexander the Great! No No some one says they will be just like Paul the saint.
Pictures are so pretty but once they start to fade and the colors start to turn to haze there will always be someone to say this painting is awful in many ways!
You see the picture you paint should be of your self not of anyone else for there colors may change to bright not light the way you want them to be.
Be yourself don't paint out a picture they want to see.  Paint the BIG picture it is to be true in your art and in your ways, for you see that is what they call a true masterpiece !!
I hate it when he's gone
and I hate leaving and knowing we won't be in touch.
I hate when he's not around to hold me
and I hate the separation.

But what's to hate?
Isn't this love?
The feelings, the touch, the moments of pure happiness
The perfection.
Nothing is wrong, right?
Isn't this how it's supposed to be?

The changes are exhilarating,
I'm jumping into ice water from the hot shower I just took.
Is this the fairytale?
I hope so, this should last forever
but is the happy ending just merely a feeling that can fade?
Not to those who convince themselves it's not.
Thats what I'll do, that's what we must do
To keep loving, to never give up
I can't give up, not on love.
I love him, it's all I'm sure of
And if I can't be sure, then what good does the love do?
Need a heart
it says
need a soul
it pleads
needs a feeling
a function
a life once again
but its gone
is replied
it has died
said once more
soak the ground
light the flames
jump around
scream the names
pound your fists
eyes don't mist
numb again-yet again-
tis it wrong?
this deadly song?
doesn't matter
its tune
stuck in my head
Phone kept close
Watching the clock
Maybe somebody better
will interrupt
Darting eyes
Incomplete thoughts
Words bounce and ricochet
off the side of your head
Mix your messages
Feed your ego
Pretend not to notice
my wilting enthusiasm
Don’t text me when
the next girl threatens you
with conversation
Next page