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troublingly, when they’re talking,
it’s usually not in my direction
and I rather like that a lot
but when it is directed at me
it’s usually nothing profound.

unaccountably, I have a lack
of response towards soulless
creatures who have zombified
their vitality

they’ve exhausted their inventiveness
opted out to conformity
over-welcomed their stay
and burnt out their last match

the apex of their days is the
sandwich they’ll have for lunch,
the power mower they ride on
in the Saturday afternoon heat,
the motor oil they use for their car,
the purchases they’ve made online
with free shipping and handling

and it’s no wonder I’ve undergone
a number of ways to elude their

making no eye contact
keeping my head down
walking really fast and
pretending to be busy

but the more you avoid them,
the more attracted they are to you

their castrated lives their wives envisioned
are so flavorless like taking a bite out of
an aspirin and they think their persistence
is stunning when it’s nothing more than
relentless and wearisome

I look out the window
feeling trapped
the day is out there
life is out there
not much life
but enough to
take a chance

and very few have the courage
to let go and break free

the little white spider crawling
up my windshield has more
courage, character, charisma
than I or the half-bred egrets
I encounter with on the daily

who knew these assortment
of words arranged in a
peculiar way would give
me the courage to go this far?

but how much further
am I willing to go?

when the world feels like a rope
you’re dangling from above
the swampland of futility
and the imbeciles circle
below like crocodiles
ready to lunge up
and snap at your

I hear their idiot laughter
and their footsteps
working towards
me now

as the door closes slowly
and the light narrows
paper thin-like into
the windowless dark.

I cringe and
wait for it
to end.
Aseel Sep 15
I don’t remember
The last time I felt
The last time I opened
My eyes so wide
I don’t remember
The last time I tried
Something new
Or I wondered how
Or I wondered who
I don’t remember the last time
I played hide and seek
Counting to five
Or The last time I **** a breath
And Felt alive
I don’t remember who I am.
Michael Hole Sep 10
The reason I don't like you,
let me put it into words.
You're a prat, a drain and a hypocrite,
a ****** characterless ****.

You talk,  you talk, you ******* talk
But you never say a thing.
You think that you give speeches
Like Dr. Martin Luther King.

But you don't because your boring,
You bore us all to tears.
Ruining every social event,
by banging on for years.

Bla bla ******* bla bla bla,
your monotone drones on.
You're in love with the sound of your own voice,
while we just want you gone.

So pack your **** up in your soapbox,
And turn your answer machine on.
Then ******* back to snoresville,
or wherever the *******'re from.
sushii Sep 1
When you’re little, everyone thinks you’re special...
When you’re twenty, everyone thinks you’re promising...
And when you’re dead, everyone will love you.

Do you see yourself as successful?
Charming, even?

Well, I see you dead in a bathtub...
Surrounded by drug paraphernalia.
I see your mother crying for you...
Syringe in her arm to take away pain.

Do you see yourself as a failure?
Horrid, even?

Why, don’t think of yourself that way...
You’ll be alright.
There is no storm...
Just calm, just the eye...

When you’re little, they beat you.
When you’re twenty, you’re hopeless.
And when you’re dead, you’re saved.

Is the drive boring?
Numbing, even?

It’s okay, just fall asleep...
You’re not responsible anyway.
It’s fine, go to sleep...
You’ll be unresponsive, anyway.

When you’re low, it’s blue.
When you’re high, it’s full.
When you’re dead, you’ll finally be numb.
sara Sep 1
I hated most moments with you,
so glad you're boring someone new
It's always the people with little to offer who are the most conceited???
As a little girl she always knew
That she lacked something special
Her own mother reminded her constantly
And the lass is now a grown woman

Adult experiences confirmed what was true
That she was just ordinary and dull
A woman with no it factor
Invisible to all before and around her

She's heard and hears stories of other women
Who use their wiles on hungry men
'If only I had that gift I'd feed a hundred of them'
Instead she's bypassed like she's not even there

Old age is catching up to her now
She may as well be thin air
The only ones who see her are other women
But never the men she dreams of

Ordinary is boring and typical
Nothing exciting about this creature
She might as well be dead and buried
Along with any hopes of truly being seen
Neha Sharma Aug 9
You got irritated with my boring talks,
Okay fine!
You got bored being in relationship with me,
Okay fine!
You want to live alone,
Okay fine!
You want to break up,
Okay fine!
But don't expect that I'll break up with you and live without you.
Yes I'll break up,
But I'll breakup with myself and
Die alone.

~your smiling queen :)
My journey from a lover to a loser...
A B Faniki Jul 20
There once was a man a bit boring
who found a magic word that open boxes;
he thought it was fun
to opening any box untill
the magic word "please" open the pandora's box.
Here is my first liemrick ever. ©A B Faniki 7/17/2019. Is about caution, even when doing good or fun things. The poem is also writing for kid to learn about saying pleasse.
I drive down the dead avenues of
perfect lawns and early bedtimes
and turned the surf music
down low

I can’t help but to think about the
streets lined with pre-fabricated
houses like mausoleums of the
living dead

inside them resides
the Lacoste polos and
flowered sundresses with
immaculate credit scores,
mortgage payments and
college degree required jobs

they send their kids off to private
school or lacrosse practice
or piano recitals

and their relatives (who live
on streets just like theirs)
come over for celebrations
out on their patio sets

it’s all the same: a barbecue,
birthday parties, graduation
parties, block parties, picnics,
bar mitzvah’s, quinceañeras

a luxury motor vehicle in every garage
an inground pool in every backyard
complete with a row of beach chairs
the lawn is cut diagonally both ways
closets lined with dry-cleaned suits
their brooding emotions enfolded
with xanax and ******

not a suicide, ******, robbery in sight
the bums don’t stagger their sidewalks
the maniacs don’t trundle their streets
there’s not even a dog **** to pick up

they elect officials into office, have affairs
with each other’s wives out of boredom,
play frisbee golf, do yoga, drink light beer
and overpriced coffee,
they smoke expensive cigars
and tuck their shirts into their cargo shorts

they’ve given up, sold out
the body bag awaits
them all with
time as the only
contributing factor
but when the corpses
are disemboweled
death will be disappointed
because they’ll leave
nothing behind
no soul
no juice
no spine
to collect

living an ordinary life
costs an extraordinary

one can only endure so much
as I drove towards the end
of the cul-de-sac and turned
around fast and reached
the stop sign.

I put my blinker on

broke left

and got the hell
away from that
zombie graveyard

some folks call

“suburban living.”
faye Jul 3
And the epiphany of it all was when we looked into each others eyes and I saw galaxies in yours while you saw nothing in mine.
thanks, love.
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