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flamingogirl Sep 1
What if I don't want
to get better? This hunger is the only thing
I feel anymore. You abandoned me,
so I sit on the bathroom
floor. I drown out my tears
with lyrics to songs we used
to scream out the car
window. While others congratulate
the damage this hunger has caused,
I obsess over the numbers that
light up whenever I step on
the scale. This is the only thing
I can control anymore. Since
you left.
rowdy lee May 12
I'm dying by hunger
he said
and I remembered about
all these ruined places
and its children
and their mothers
you're not dying

you just still don't have enough capacity
to realize
that you don't need a new jacket
and shoes
you own muddy ones in the hallway
and the others you don't like
give me
a better reason

and try
to swallow your dreams
and keep them
in a digestive tract
to the last second
of not giving a ****

as the ones who are trying to fall asleep now
on the pillow of tomorrow's death
Maybe there is a grammar/meaning mistakes in my poems as English is my second language. Glad if you'll warn me. Thank you.
Becca Lansman Apr 13
finally; after i have clogged all the drains in my bathroom;

the tub--
stomach acid stained, a lingering ghost of putrid bile.

the sink--
gurgling chunks of yesterday.

i buy four XL bottles of drano
only to empty them within the month.

my poor ancient drains--
begging me to stop baptizing them in electric acid.

my throat pleads  the same.

i dissolve the body of my secret lover
but can't seem to rid her haunting memory.

i cannot pick up my sack of skin to confront the drug store clerk for just one more bottle of drano.

forced to my knees
singing  lullabies into the toilet bowl.

trying to wake myself of this bad dream.

hey God-- remember me?
I have built a shrine on my bathroom floor for you--

a well of unseen tears.

how am I simultaneously less and more body with each waking day?
trying to birth and abort myself with the same *******.

i am the sick twisted joke with no punch line.

i am drowning in my own toilet bowl--
i have built this grave; and now must swim in it.
Isabella Mar 18
I sit, my back against the wall. Tears trickling down my cheeks.
Then I wash off my face and stand tall, which means that I am weak.
Alone in the bathroom stall, I couldn't control my cries.
On the inside I feel so very small, and the smiles I wear are lies.
blake Feb 3
the more you use it
the smaller it gets

while you're clean,
it gets ***** while it dries you

while it takes away,
you must take away from it
to keep it clean
I just locked myself in a bathroom stall during our school break and cried, listening to 'Michael In The Bathroom' on repeat.

I don't think I'm okay anymore
A poem every day
Guilty Nov 2019
I wanna pin you against a wall,
And kiss you everywhere.
I wanna pull you into a bathroom stall,
And do some freaky stuff in there.
I had a dream about that. Needless to say, I was sad I woke up.
Margaret Jean Aug 2019
I didn't have to use the bathroom
I just needed to sit
My feet were kind of hurting
****** arch support
Cute, though

The concert is good
Funky chill
Reminds me of Cowboy Bebop
With all the hats and button downs
"See you, space cowboy"

I'm still just sitting in the bathroom
Trying to play the part
I ran away to write a poem
Better move around a little
I can't focus on the band

I think tonight I figured out
What love feels like, looks like
Agape, the right Latin term I think
So many different definitions
For this four letter word

It's this feeling you get
Looking at someone in love
With their own moment
I feel this certain kind of smile spreading
Everything is warm

When you see people happy
Yeah, you feel joy (I hope)
It's just being human
Happiness, as they say
It's contagious

But it's different
This is different
And I'm trying to figure out
How to describe it
Sitting in this ******* stall
It's days later now
From when I ran to the bathroom
Figured I might have a better word
Some heightened vocabulary skills
But I don't

This feeling that I had (have)
The warmth inside my body
Seeing these people slip into space
An outer self, void of anything
That grounds them

I went back to the show
Arch support still ****, but
I didn't say why I really left
But I knew I needed to go back
I knew I needed to feel

I left to escape my sadness
It trapped my heels in the ground
But I came back to see their sun
And I watched the people float
Weightless in their universe
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2019
called me in for a consultation,

lean in,” he suggested, with nearly closed eyes,

“see the youthful optimistic predecessor,
the conqueror, who could not be defeated,
his thin images within still resides

the man of firm voice who when he spoke
above the rabble, all fell silent, and when he looked,
all could share his visionary insights and did not hesitate,
saying, we will do and we will listen,
but to follow, just did, wrapped
in your confidence

I want that boy back, smooth skinned, fearless,
do not return him till the shadows have dissipated,
the bruised lines of worry have evaporated,
the hands look unscathed, then raise them in
self-supplication, demanding satisfaction,
then in success, born overhead, marking appreciation,

let us adventure forth, straightening tilting windmills,
punishing renegades and dragons fearful,
saving damsels who waited just for our arrival,
shedding courage upon those who watch us,
cheering and being cheerful

here is your mighty pen,
cut sharp the poems out from the within,
read them slow, winding to now crooked old friends,
who remember everything dear, their youth of no fear,
the best of past, dreaming poems, mist born, fog vapor gone,
of black and waiting white, worthy words all revived

return to me in blazes,
sumptuous colors of derring-do,
I need that child brave, for perhaps
you have not noticed my flaking slivering skin,
the expanding cracks that cross my images,
just like you!

I need you to rebirth you,
I need you to rebirth me!

8/16/19 reflections from a blue glacier
JT Nelson Jun 2019
Three boys
I was the youngest
A family of five
In a big old house
With ONE bathroom

I learned the valuable lesson
Of waiting
How to hold

And getting ready for school
Was a choreography
Of hierarchy
And I would wait
And wait

Until the yellow tiled room was mine
And I could brush my teeth
In peace
Then spit

Then look in the mirror
Comb my hair
And grin at that kid
Smiling a crooked smile at me
And say “good enough for a small town”
I was so happy when dad added a second bathroom to our house. How we did it with one still amazes me!
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