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Betty Oct 2020
Each nation

Each successive generation

Has punched that button

It isn’t red

It is quite round

And it’s there

Just look around

It fires doomsday

That elephant in all our rooms-day

We need to stop pushing

We  need to start thinking

The oceans are filthy

The ice caps are shrinking

We all own the button

It's big and it's blue

It's everyones planet

and that includes you!
mothwasher Jul 2020
i keep two buttons in either pockets

they’re part of my usual pocket cluster, wallet phone keys headphones matches

both hands in my pocket now, i run my finger along the ridge of the left button on the hard days

i roll the bridge between both buttons before sneaking out back and pressing the right button

but like all psychoactivities, relative direction, cardinal hand eye, the right button looks identical to the left and I left them both on the table in between tobacco pouches and empty beer bottles

things that press the left button: ominous psychosis, soma mania, fire flushes from ******* not listening, an empty checking balance, an empty emotional balance, an emptiness

things that press the right button: herbal breath in the nice chair, glassy eyes and extra papers, a quiet hour in surround sound

I stare at the left button while my dad calls and hover over it, pausing mid drag to weigh the consequences, weighing the empty balance, feeling an overdrawn surcharge to my soul, taxed in tension, fumbling headphones

the left button sometimes makes me yell, dissociative silence or telling strangers to go **** themselves because I can’t afford the time for anything else

It’s usually the left button I smash against the wall, slaughtered, obliterated, my friends hand me broken batteries and shattered screens and say things like, “press the right button, stop pressing mine”

things that press the right button: not me, usually.

things that press the left button: the left button presses the left button, leaving me with a locked right button, pressed permanently and I fidget with a flathead trying to pop that ****** back out

why can’t I hit the right button?

why am I stuck with the left button, ad infinitum, added insidium, snarling and suffocated, shaking it out in the center of my bed

it might be easier if they left me in a blue gown, *** exposed, *** laid down, pressing that ******* button by the hospital bed, pressing that ******* button like I know how in the coward’s way out

irregardless of what button I press, or what gets pressed, or what’s pressing me and pressing against me, they find their way back into my pocket cluster

pockets with my hands, fingers that get skinnier until my fingers are thin lines or circles or buttons themselves and I have nothing left to do but give them to you and have you press every button, drugless and dampened

things that press the right button: you when I need you to

and when you press it, the left button and the right button are one in the same

they are you and you can withstand being pressed or being there to be pressed

out of my hands and a little lighter
Masha Yurkevich Apr 2020


I'm sorry

I didn't mean to push all you buttons.

I was just looking for

MUTE.



Kewayne Wadley Jan 2020
The devil walked into a store
Eying the clearance rack.
 
He made eye contact with the cashier
Walking towards the half priced jackets
Flannels & boots.

At that moment he saw something that
became his whole world.

His fingers wild with excitement
passing through all the colors
The hangers clanging against metal feverishly
to find that they didn't have his size.
He thumbed back through the sizes
as though something would have changed
Checking then double checking.

He asked the cashier if they had anymore
in the back,
much to his dismay
to receive the same answer.

He saw a cardigan in his size but hated the way
it looked.

Flapping the hood up and down.
He circled the store
Looking up & down the isles.

Until he noticed the buttons.
Those big wooden buttons
Memories of a different time & place
How fast time slips away.

All that's left;
Shoes to match
chelle Nov 2019
There's always a joe
Anywhere u go

Just can't get it right
For to save his own life

Pulling us down
Way deep underground


What he says isn't real
Words only YOU feel

Heads up look both ways
The joes never stay
Thanks for the lesson learned buddy... evil is real...its what's in you
chelle Nov 2019
Sometimes you come to take me
On your magic carpet ride
In the midst of all the darkness
The still silence in the middle of the night

I never thought until this day
That I'd be blinded by this light
That's your disguise, that's a cover
Get ready, hang on tight

There's never been an evil
Thats deceived me quite so well
Or that claimed the truth
When clearly flying into hell

I've heard it said a time or two
Demons look like light
Maybe that's why you always come
In the secret of the night

At first I thought it beauty
No truth I saw in the dark
But what goes up, must come down
And now I see you're mark.
I believed every lying word. He spoke of beauty and light but it was only ever evil and dark. Distorted perception on both parts.
Masha Yurkevich Jan 2019
Life
gets faster everyday;
often not giving us
time to play.
Chaos,
worry,
pain and hurry.
Sadness,
madness,
leads to sleeplessness.
I'm working hard until I drop;
life should have buttons,
pause, mute, stop!
What would it be like to go through life with button?
Nic Ginter Jan 2019
My hand hesitates above the button
"Unblock"
Just millimeters away from my fingertips
Pieces of your life could appear in seconds
With just a little pressure
Yes, I know last time this hurt me
But maybe this time will be different
What's one more time
Just one more visit to your page
Gently the button clicks and your name disappears
I search it and easily find your page
A lot has happened since I last checked
And it's funny because
Even though I'm reading them
The poems themselves tell me nothing
Like mine, theres no way to know
Who it is you are speaking of
Though every so often
I read one that hits me in the gut
It makes my heart hurt and my stomach curl
Because I'm almost sure that
The person you're writing of is me
And you are still hurting
You're still angry at me
I want to like the poem
I want to open a door for you to see
So maybe I can help give you closure
I'm itching for you to talk to me
And as my finger
Renters a state of hovering
Over yet another virtual button
I realize that it wouldn't help you
I'd only be hurting you further
And I don't want to do that to you
I realize that my missing our friendship
Is solely a desire of mine
And it would be cruel
To drop in on your life again
I'm sorry for what I did
And I'm sorry I'm struggling so much
To let that piece of us go
But your feelings about me are clear
So even though it hurts to read
Just how much I destroyed you
I think it's just what I needed
To stop getting my hopes up
And to stop pressing your buttons
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