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i watched as your mother
screamed at you for
being unable to choose between
berries or sweets
berated you for your pickiness
and demanded your love
after giving you a treat
you never asked for
i hope young girl
you grow up to be
as indecisive as me
because who says you can’t have both?
who says it’s anyone else’s decision
but yours?
who compares chocolate to vanilla
I've been all over, I think.
It's confusing.

There's this thing I love. I love it so much,
I don't think I could go without.
It's bad for me,
in excess.
It holds me under my arms and carries me to celestial bodies.
It turns me alive.

There's the real world. I  despise it.
If it means to part with what I need.
I cling so desperately but-

-has anyone noticed why?

It doesn't really matter the reason.
I don't want to know.
But it's the one thing I want to hold onto.

Ah, I remember the times I'd lay really quiet.
Thinking all day and night about magic.
It's what I need. It's what kills me.

I feel the farewell a bit too close, it is near.
And I
feel the farewell a bit too much.
It saddens me.

Growing up and leaving this, are you crazy?
I'm a madman, when has anyone seen me let go?
I'll cling with each particle of my being, at the risk of sounding dramatic.

But I'll be happier than the housewives and the office men.
I'll have it-

-this thing I love. It's something I do.
It's nothing interesting.
It's my whole world.
I noticed that if I want to survive, I'll have to pause living
(Just joking hbghbj I started studying for exams)
Empire May 9
What an odd thing
To lose one's mind
During adolescence
During the time
For exploration
To find oneself
I lost myself
And now I can’t tell
Who I am
If this person
Is truly me
Or if it’s just
The serotonin excess
From that little white thing
Inducing smiles
Making me carefree
Easing the stress
And with it
That drive
To strive
For excellence
I’m not who I was
But just maybe
I like this
Woman better
This woman isn’t who I was, but she’s come so far and learned so much.
There once was a girl from Augusta,
Whose adolescent days will disgust ya.
She claimed she was emo,
But loved Finding Nemo.
Those days were a whole lot of blustah.
lmbf Apr 16
two strangers were passing
each avoiding the other's gaze.
their eyes used to convey love, hurt, anger, joy
all at once.
they had been made for each other,
for a time.

he was wearing red,
as on the day they first met.
it used to mean blooming, like
every flower he'd send after her shows.

then bleeding, as the lovely piano music she used to play for his eyes alone
turned flat. sharps instead of sparks flew
between them,
a series of exchanges that left both wishing that they could return to
peonies on the tennis court
instead of
painful goodbyes in a transient corridor.

now red made him think of borrowing, because he hadn't realized that they were operating on borrowed time.
they made the mistake of giving into
the feeling of "forever," forgetting that one can't disturb the law of the universe.  
their wavelengths were designed to move in a redshift:
the opposite of blue.
the opposite of "me and you."

but the truth is that hardly anything was said.
they spoke wordlessly, operating through gazes and glances and growing pains;
they were each other's growing pain.

two strangers were passing
each avoiding the other's gaze.
they had been made for each other,

in their periphery, both failed to notice a small girl
clutching a wilting red rose
& a poem about lovely last chance first love.
based on “nineteen,” a poem by george bogin, a wilting rose, one hot day in march, and my favorite teacher not-teacher ever.

thank you to everyone who has followed me after reading “reminders.” two years ago i had not shown my poetry to anyone, not even people from my own family, because i didn’t think that my words could matter so much to anyone. and lately I’ve been forgetting the message i relayed in that work, which was a letter i absentmindedly scribbled to myself at 3 o’ clock in the evening on one of the last few dog days of summer. if you’re still reading, please know that you matter. you might not know it yet, but you are ready and willing to contribute something worthwhile to our world. you’ve just gotta take the time to look for how you can do that.

this poem i’m dedicating to someone i love[d]. brackets because i said i was keeping my distance from you for the moment, but i’m hoping you can tell me i haven’t fully thrown away my chances at lovely last chance first love with you, too.
Chris Slade Apr 1
Ladies of the Net… A warning to male adolescents everywhere…

“Hi Honey….I just got matched with your profile”… At least that’s what I think it said.
Brilliant I thought because I’m available and life round here is, well…it’s dead
“I’m looking for an experienced guy who’s good in bed…  been round the block, but not the clock…
One with plenty of experience and a huge…err…appetite…
for hooking up instead of these inexperienced boys…
They’re all excitable, probably all over too quick…
need someone with poise reserve and a twelve inch errr… Libido?… ego?
Click my pics kiddo and let’s get it on… you Stud!… Well I would!

*******! I’m overwhelmed but let’s not peak too soon…
There’s loads of stuff coming in as Spam that would probably make us all swoon.
So check it out…without fail, “eeeh!”  They’re all there - these ladies of the net - they crop up daily -
Sheila Blige… Tanya Hide… Mandy May,  Bette Sheedus, Lovinia ****…
I’m not sure if these are their real names... But - Phew -
with things like this going on round here we could all get *******!

She says she’s just round the corner, you know like Sompting, Steyning, LA (that must be Littlehampton)… Southwick…Little Haven Halt, Portslade.
We could meet in a lay-by and we’ll get laid… just an innocent little escapade.
It won’t be my fault if you miss this chance…
Just try it - I’ll handcuff you to the bed and lap dance.
Click on my pix, big boy, they all beckon.
Take a closer look at these sonny boy - now what do you reckon?

Well, you’d have to say they do look very alluring in the taster…
so why not just click...
to the next page… see the site… don’t waste-ya time…CLICK!
*******! The screen’s gone blank…
now I won’t even be able to have a __
Knock, Knock, Knock!

"Kevin!!!?"..."Mum?" "Is that you?" "Yes Mum!… Everything’s OK!… I’m just turning out the light… G’night!"
These days the temptations of the internet are many and varied... no longer restricted to top shelf magazines...It's all free and it's coming to gettya - Check out those parental controls!!
lmbf Mar 27
What do you even know about love and hatred and looking in the mirror and feeling both all at once? The way my Cupid's bow curves into the ***** of my lip and the smoldering intensity of my brown eyes are painfully matched by my arms sagging as I walk. My voice, strong and confident when needed, is otherwise reduced to a quiet murmur in the crowd. And I am powerless to stop it.
Cut my wisdom teeth on a bass synthesizer.
As the day of our green patron saint approaches
I'm indifferent to thoughts of debauchery that once
invigorated my soul. This town has changed and I've
lost faith in the session, these memories are so pointless,
I'm somewhat manic, surely a result of excessive stability.
I think this is my prime reason to get out, but
my love for G-twn remains; part of my soul'll be always buzzin'
here, in the city of my birth,
The place where I learned
how to be a human being.
Ban boring eating blightly
bad faith and upbringing
thinking what are
rights aren't privileges
then not backing choice
then going shooing off about.

But who are we but vectors
for cruel jokes we can't control
through copyright or canon
like bleating brown noises
less calming than their whites
and self interested bloating?

"Look, that's life"
always and moral
modulating likely losses
into worse likely looseness trues
out of rules and languishing blues
like immutable good assumptions are they.
IPM Mar 7
I tap the screen and watch a clock
tiny 0's and 1's
1 PM passed, tiny taps click from my pen
oh, how I wish it would go through
the ethmoid bone in my brain.
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