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kain Dec 2019
What if I showed you all the poems I wrote
Would you taste the asphalt
I felt
As I sat and scribed
Would you see the graffiti
The street signs, city life
Would it mean anything
I stopped counting when it stopped making sense. There's no point in going back now.
Vic Sep 2019
Fifty-one lines exactly,
Counted on my arm,
As always.
Kind of ironic,
Since I was clean.
For fifty-*******-one days.
Vic May 2019
And I'm here again,
Standing alone in the hallway.
Is my company not enough for you?
Are my laughs not pure enough for you?
Am I worthless to you when I'm alone?
Do I not fulfill your expectations?
Can you please tell me what's going on?
I'll feel alone with a reason.
A poem every day
Colm Mar 2017
The government has it's secrets
And so do I
We all are deep and in depth creatures
Capable of living both very public
And yet very private lives

And yet every once and awhile in time
I'm astounded by what is that I find
In my own life

That I've been trying and far more confident
In the standards which I set for myself
And now that I'm there without sense of self
I no longer wish nor want to comply
This is. PAUSE
i'm so ******* tired of writing about you

miserere mei deus

i'm sick of all these ******* dreams

secundum magnam misericordiam tuam

i'm fed up with the sleepless nights

et secundum multitudinem

the daylight hauntings

miserationum tuarum

the midnight ******* tears

dele iniquitatem meam




i hate that flutter in my gut that i only feel when i think of you

miserere mei deus

i hate that my heart rises in my throat only when i hear you laugh

secundum magnam misericordiam tuam

i hate that i love you

et secundum multitudinem

i hate that i love you

miserationum tuarum

i hate that i love you

*dele iniquitatem meam

— The End —