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Hriday Shah Sep 19
The way you treated me,
After all you did to me,
Now suddenly your mood changed,
Is this game you played?

After you said no,
I was broken into pieces,
But now you want to change the flow,
Still — I’ll rather say no.

Let me tell you what you are:
A narcissist so bizarre,
A girl with bad hair,
A girl with no self-care.

You were too short for me anyways,
A dwarf with a bloated head,
One whose integrity is dead.
I’ll pass on this offer —
Because what is that you can differ?

Erase me from your life,
Stop dreaming of being my wife,
Cause my answer is still no —
Is all you need to know.

I wish you a great life ahead —
A Life with new beginning,
A life with some self-respect;
As you all have some right now,
Was straight up disrespect.

If only you had said yes before,
God knows what we could explore,
But you have now become my foe,
An annoying little crow.

You destroyed me from inside out,
I wept until my eyes dried out.
Your thoughts were moving in my head,
Now they are locked away in a shed.

I can’t forget all that,
We can’t just start from the back,
I will hate you for the rest of my life,
A fire that will burn bright.

I wish you could just vanish,
Those memories that have tarnished,
But you are still standing in front of me,
With the attitude of a wannabe.

My answer will always be no,
Forget I was your beau,
This is the best we both can do,
Nothing more to review.
You are just the thief of my life,
Which I have killed with a sharpen knife.
Zelda Sep 19
that’s like saying
sixty-degree water isn’t hot
just because it isn’t boiling,
and it isn’t cold either.

my body feels heavy
after
fifty-ton anchors
pulling my frozen limbs under.
and i don’t like the feeling.
and it’s so ******* cold
to breathe.

i had a thought today:
the world would go on
if i were gone.
no one would notice.
it was comforting—
no one would grieve.
no one.
but me.
it’s no fun, you know;
i would know.

nonsense,
breathed in too many chemicals,
droplets of poison,
in my mind.
people who know you
will be affected,
or at least, perhaps,
some of them,
whether you want to admit it or not.


well, i think
there’s a difference
between people knowing you
and loving you,
or perhaps knowing you
is a kind of love,
but it never is.

i thought
therapy could help me get over
my fear of death,
so I could—
well, you know...

death serves a sweet martini,
and I could use a drink,
’cause i can't see
past the past.

Oh, man,
it's
Happy Hour
Written: September 16-19, 2025
Published: September 19, 2025
Reece Aug 28
Built-up frustrations and transgressions have come to a head,
You’ve decided that enough is enough.
You carry your newly filled gasoline cans,
Can’t believe that this is how it ends.
You pour the gasoline,
All over the wooden, fractured planks.
And as you douse the bridge with kerosene,
Some of the boards groan and even break.
You light a match and stare at the flame,
Contemplating everything.
How your friends stabbed you in the back and ran away,
How they treated you like dirt, but you took it anyway.
How you were desperate, and it caused you pain.
How you never felt like you belonged with them either way.
So you flick the match,
And listen to the satisfying crackle of the flames.
But don’t feel bad,
Sometimes bridges burn, and that’s okay!
Sometimes you have to be the one to fling the match before you get burned.
J Michael Aug 13
Only in dreams, a proof appears again;
A distant past, still embers. Whispers the name.
And more, rekindles flames, it melts my head.
A feeling, though fleeting. Fervor or bane?

The dread of knowing, you are only dreams.
Awake, I pine to fall again to dark.
A reverie to pull from my frayed seams,
And catch ablaze this lonely, long lost spark.

So now I ask, why you appear this time?
I try to find a meaning, logic’s curse.
Will answers be in me or you to find?
I’ll wait for which will speak unto me first.

I take your touch, your voice, with me to dawn,
Pretending they were true, although you’ve gone.
And patience will revive the warmth you bring,
That burns my soul to black, and makes it sing.
MsAmendable Aug 2023
It rained today,
The first rain in forever.
It smelled nice;
A great wet sigh of relief

I didn't miss it until today-
When the raw thunder rolled over my back
And down my pinkened cheeks
When the crisp grass softened
And mists poured thickly through the rippling trees
That pulls over the sky like white sheets
Tucking us in to the earth; soft and small and damp and sweet

But maybe tonight, the pattering tap
Will pull me so softly
To sleep
ab ja na Apr 15
but i know not of this world
i have to pay to ******* myself?

where are my butterflies?
i want to tell them i am sorry,
have i been too loud, too dark?

i want to be the strings you pluck to feel things you feel
i am okay being locked in the cupboard or the corner room as well,
just keep me
even when i can’t give you those percussive pleasures
i'd have faith in you that there is more that could pour out of you for me
and when you pour endlessly i'd stay


so while being smothered i also wanted them to ride me,
unhinged, ride my face,
so unrestrained willing to use me and not hold back
they could not be any more real than then
so unrestrained, perched on my shoulders
the ******* blooming into flowers
the throbbing pearl inside of their lips i could hear and feel
the 3rd part of my confessional, personal poetry. it took a lot to say it this unconditioned but now i am freeing it as well

ego death does promise an ego afterlife, go for it
As I take a stroll every evening
There in those woods so green
I watch come to me from afar
A yellow tram with a red scar

The tram comes from a future
I conceived in the past
A world with a ****** culture
I once designed to last

Now as I board the tram
I journey to my end
For my future is a sham
My death’s a trend

But the tram changed course
And travels back in time
For my past’s the true source
Of each and every crime

The tram moves fast
And the woods go brown
As I reached my past
I got down with a frown

It took me some time
I righted my past
I cremated my crime
Returned at last

As I strolled the after evening
Within my mind ever so green
I perceived a thought afar
Yellow, but without a scar.
Erwinism Nov 2024
Scream! Scream! Scream! The cardinal rule of silence. Scream! The next cardinal rule of silence.

On words aching for a voice, a generous gaze be fixed. Lend a ray of light and shine on shadowed corners where thoughts have cowered. Forsake me not in unsacred matrimony of stagnation and decay, lest, I be not I. For voice not be voice which breaks when it disguise unmasks. Such is life.

Into the fabled lands of golden chance, my car rode my soul, glittered rot and creaking joints, not I, but my ferry for this diaspora unbidden, for one, but one quest—****** tomorrow from its tree and fill the pockets of whose vines to the roots with whom I share.

For it gives them so much pleasure, to measure worth with what gift is on a hand, failing to see its callused back. Faces neither painted with hardened sweat and spit, nor eyes crafted with sight. Their comfort a measuring stick of whatever weaves the blood. It thickens with the sun and diluted in the cold, worse still, vapid in trying times.

Pictures are nothing like my reality, for no hope feel I, no shores see I in this sea indifferent to drifters, no reasons have I to follow behind the whims of my feet. In solitude, in its warmth, I bathe, than nestle in the wintry arms of feigned togetherness. Such a dear friend loneliness is, when it holds out its hand and speak with profane eloquence.

Until you set your fear free, then walk away you cannot. Until you walk away, then find who you are you cannot. Until you find who you are, then grasp freedom you cannot.
So note to self—be not afraid. So with all mustered fire; let go. Let go. Let go of fear.  Be done with people who see you as Wells Fargo. Let go. Let go. Let go of thankless gratitude.
My compassion will not bend their will anymore than they can bend their own, for theirs is absolute.

Today, I’m an outcast cast away to distant shores by my need and my compassion for my blood so now I must reflect on how much of myself remains. I’ve grown arcane. How much of myself I have given to the twilight and what of me remains.

Yet, I’m torn between love that I’m nothing without and love no more and live.
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