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Gabriel Jan 2018
i think i went about this all wrong
this grief you gave me
because i skipped ahead
read the end
i fell straight through the floorboards
into bargaining
begging, anything, everything
my kingdom for your time

i brushed straight passed denial
i knew what you’d done before you did it
the forth step broke under my feet
it hit me with a vividness
it left me starving, sleepless
i laid there next to you
and felt the beast i thought i’d slain
open up it's hungry maw

my acceptance after was for my sake
a forgiveness of myself for believing you
but never forgiveness of what you did
and it was in this acceptance that i found anger
a stranger, someone who kisses my cheek
and says how tall i’ve grown but it's name i had forgotten
until now, now when it bathes me in it's fire
and i am cleansed by it, burned out of the beast’s jaw

and this cruelty i feel, it is yours alone
my pains in the past brought indifference
so often there was nothing left to fashion into hatred
but, by god, you gave me so much
so much fleshy material, patches of your selfishness
whole sheets of your betrayal, ribbons of your pettiness
/you ******* child/
i can make quilts out of your mistake
murals of this viciousness you’ve given me
i shall wrap it around my naked shoulders and sleep in it.
ryn Mar 2017
This is my bargain.
Day for night
and night for day.

There isn't a time where I hadn't wished
that the day would end to make way for night.

Nights offer a bleak sense of comfort.
Almost as if they'd grant a temporary cloak which
you could huddle under and think or...
Overthink in the dark.

You could bargain shamelessly with tears running streams down your face and no one could see.
You could negotiate with reality for the slight perchance that things would turn out alright come daylight.
You could voice out your barter in hushed tones and still be somewhat assured that no one would know.
All of this...
In the cover of night.

Then when sleep eludes, you can't help but beg for day to come.
For with the light comes the day's responsibilities; all eager and raring to go.
Much like runners at the start line, anticipating the shot to be fired at the crack of dawn.
Shot fired and they'd come swooping down on you...
Sweeping you off your feet and carries you off to where you need to be, doing what you're paid to do for the next 8 to 10 hours.

That is your break from the dark.
That is your retreat from all the thinking.
That is your escape from... yourself.

And then...
4 hours into the day, you're wishing for night again.
Anna Skinner Mar 2017
i’m wearing malbec lipstick at 330 in the afternoon, my own personal hue that stains lips and teeth, drips down my chin so a tongue flicks out to savor the drop. it leaves a maroon trace like i’ve been ******* blood.
when i swill the wine, it captivates me. like i'm swishing around my own blood, praying enough of it sloshes out to **** me.
i’m headed to catholic church in an hour, maybe i’ll light a candle for myself.
god knows i ******* need it.
i’m at that delicate lining, the in-between stage of the five stages of grief. the soft spot at the base of my skull. self-destruct button that’s so tempting, nestled between anger and depression. skip bargaining. take a trip around the sun.
i've lost my hair tie and i want it back.
i've lost my heart and i want it back. ******* give it back.
reapply mauve lipstick the flavor of malbec. go to church. rinse the good off when you get home.
i still feel him inside of me. taking everything. claiming it as his own, two hundred and fifty-eight hours later. like he’s stained me and now i'm tainted and unapproachable. undesirable.
piece of plastic wrap that used to keep his heart fresh, now i'm trash.
now i’m his.
Sethnicity Feb 2016
Black on black on black on black
Wood tar pitched and shackled back
Back to back to back to back
Paid in full no matter man fact
priceless pain packed pickings to rack
crack the back of blacks to stack
paper to pay to paper for play and man
Who's black backs crack and snap
Crack sha clack to crack to Sha clack

Blood and labor and words no savior
On roads and rails and rocks on street blocks
Laws to wrap the black lack in locks
dread locks and cops and knocks and knots
Locks and laws and loops from logs
backlogged black laws closed jaws and halls
freedom is someone who knows the walls
You live you learn you see no turn
so learn to know no way to earn
lose your job your home your wife
A way of life is guns and strife
knot in back no friend but lack
black on black on black on black

Run from hoods in hoods and hide
when the moon is full in a land of lies
Sun by day means mad men by night
Free from chains but not from spite
for them deny and then deny
deny deny deny deny
Washed away with whittle white sight
We musta been wrong when white is right

Cops on blocks in shops and hops
Watch for the Man on beat on stops
Crack on corners and broke back moms
peddle from job to job then sob
Mom and Dad Divorced by workforce
Paid pennies *** many "Too dim of Course!"
Get back, You black, No Slack, Take That
can't pay em the same they'll ruin our aim
For Good and Power and money to reign
From hungry to dummy to nummy and slain
held down by Presidents Planters and Pain
The Pain so well ingrained in brain
  
So train a child the way to grow
Get Money, Get Power, Get Good to Go
Get Smart was said, but a hard road to ***
Some Rattle some Crackle
some Dream some Battle
Moving the movement by Marching the Capital
But capital got capped and Anger got tapped
burning the bridges extended tween US
When Fed help medicate minds but menial
The gun clap on black when black on back
burn the bridge we all worked to track
but silent echoes sha clack sha clack
Attack is back so black react

We gamble on gravity with coin of Change
knowing the game ain't geared for gain
ignore the lack of footing in rain
For certain it's curtains yet playing the same
blinders on, triggers on, surprise when maimed
Forgotten the root so strange fruit ain't strange
Aged in grief raged in street
surprise when lame, inflamed, in heat
We old in defeat deranged and weak
should have been focused on governing seats
Youth forgot when work was sought
In a world wide web the mind was bought
Trapped in chains unseen yet wrought
To dream is deemed an impure thought
Wonder why kids abandoned the plot
A dream deferred is a dream forgot
When truth repeats the gears don't stop
When voting is bought the truth gets locked
in cycles, in history, in catch phrase, then plop!
Black and White in Chains Distraught
Distraught no thought with teeth dry rot
the lot has rot and lost its hot
Slavery Antiquity and Dreaming De' mode'
Truth is Questioned and Fiction la Mode'
Truth is Fact too black for show
So Back too Black to Act just mold
Anger and fear our coal to hold
remember regret, let go, too bold
So revolt loose canary for gold
too late to leap the mind will fold
the future looks cold so cold so cold
but the dice we roll and roll and roll...

But Why?
When Blacks in Stacks in Fear; The Facts.
A Belief History of Black America.

It's a mentality steeped in grieving, I can't wait for all communities of humans to get to the Forgiving stage of grief.. the one not mentioned because it's so closely related to Healing.  I'll be the first to admit that I'm striving for the Forgetting stage... but I am not there yet, but I'm trying Ringo, I'm trying real hard to find the God in Me.
Christina Lau Oct 2015
I’ve been bargaining with the sun ever since I can remember.
I’d sit in front of large windows as a child, whispering deals to the clouds,
who had swallowed all the sunlight in their passing,
to let yellow flood the world again,
I didn’t know the sun would return regardless
until hands had been shook - a deal made.
I’d lose a limb or two and repeat the process; ignorant.
nothing has changed.
Paige Chevalier Jul 2015
i. denial
you aren’t gone, no.
you’re going to come back to me.
you’re going to come back.
ii. anger
you promised you’d try;
but the second things got hard,
you didn't look back.
iii. bargaining
its not over yet.
we aren't unfixable.
we’ve come too far now.
iv. depression
i wasn’t enough.
you told me you’d always stay.
you’re not coming back.
v. acceptance
you were my first love,
the first to truly love me;
you won’t be the last.

pc
i just realized that i only counted "going" as one syllable when it should have been counted as two, but other than that, these should all follow the haiku 5x7x5 rule
Gabriel Raines Nov 2014
Time to write an angry letter
I have played my part
Puppets dancing I surrender
I go home and then

I come back to hear you laughing
I was so afraid
You've been second guessing happy
Where have you been

White out
You wanna write me out
Well that's fine, go ahead, you're editing
White out
I'm a sound of a mountain
A portrait of an artist in-sanity

Electric tape and chalk outlines
I fix it all for you
I'm the guy who kept you alive
What do you want me to say

I'm sorry
The pressure of survival got me
Calling you back instantly

Don't worry
I'll delete your number
I'm only dumber than you
Intentionally

White out
You wanna write me out
Well that's fine, you're editing
White out
I'm a sound of a mountain
A portrait of an artist insanity

Red ink
Dripping from your wrist
You sign a pact

I sink
Into a state of paranoia
It wasn't that bad

White out
You wanna write me out
Well that's fine, you're editing
White out
I'm a sound of a mountain
A portrait of an artist insanity

I'm off again
I'm calling you out again
I'm off again
I'm not drawing
****** lines for you
That's what you wanted me to do
Isn't it
Song
Denial of the obvious

I'm just sad today and when it stops raining then I can get a fresh look at this world and see a not so blurry outlook that melds all the colors into grey

Anger at your brain matter

Why wasn't I born into the world right side up, we joked about how difficult I was but is it really a joke when 18 years later I'm wailing out for the same breath of air that I was born needing

Bargaining with the disorders

I have symptoms of Anxiety Disorders but I could also be schizophrenic so maybe we can strike a golden medium of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder so at least then I can create an insane system of disorderly organization.

Depression

How often can you feel sad before you grow desolate and the drear wears away at the valleys on your face and pins you down into a final posture of the broken

Acceptance

I'll Let You know

— The End —