Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Man Jul 2023
Tender flesh, pale & thin;
Cigarette burns pock cratered skin.
Entrails that entail, poison foretaste.
Hidden, not much to be read, that
Of false smiles, on a plaster face.
The cancer within,
Almost at its brim,
Building to the self-consumption
Surely bound to take it's place.
monique ezeh Sep 2021
creation like an all-consuming fire
splintering sense of self until a chest fills with bone shards

aspirating ***** / spitting up blood
if only for the sake of the

tradition

sounds like suffering / smells like delusion
feels like an unexpected weight

and yet it is better than the silence
the silence before / the silence after

                                                          ­                                             is this love?
                                                           ­                                            is this love?
                                                           ­                                            is this love?

                                                          ­             is this it?
                                                             ­          is this it?
                                                             ­          is this it?
Man Feb 2021
do you fear fear

a nail biter? a bedwetter?
or are there other compulsions
you cling to

step out, from the stale shade of the dark
that consumed you
no longer does it
feel the warmth that the sun casts down
sometimes, it's all one can do to beat the blues

this road of life is rocky
and it sees us all stumble
you chart your course

stick to it

as a blade meeting grindstone
water's introduction to limestone
bugsy Sep 2020
Our love was like a thunderstorm
Overwhelming and intense
It flooded and consumed me
Until nothing else made sense

You were lightning and I was thunder
Never meant to be
But whenever I was with you
You were all that I could see

I felt a love I’d never felt before
A love that was so profound
The rivers began to flood
All my desolation drowned

While the rain drops pattered down
Suddenly lightning struck
Chaotic, restless wicked
You said I was nothing but a ****

Just like that it was over
Brief like a tropical storm
Nothing but a memory
A love I can only mourn

I screamed I miss you I miss you I love you
While I watched your tail lights disappear
My little heart still broken
And the sky begins to clear
/gt
melli7 Feb 2020
I think I'm turning paranoid,
Or at least a little mean;
I question all the motives
Of those who liked my meme.

The second I get Followed,
I ****-- turn around around to see
If he just wants a "Follow-back"
Or truly likes my feed.

Don't even get me started
On social reciprocation.
IRL I don't do so well;
In virtual, I'm an island nation.

Do I just Like what I like?
Or only what really hits home?
What if it's a horrible post
By someone who loves my poem?

...do you like me? Do you really


like me?
Does it
matter?

I
don't
know
For the record: I'm not referring to anyone specific.
melli7 Feb 2020
I used to think that I was Social
And then Media came to play.
I've only ever consumed the stuff;
At creating, I'm middling - just okay.

I can't Mediate people;
Will never be a journalist;
I like talking sometimes,
But the internet? Not the greatest.

So it's time to divorce these words:
The Social from the Media.
For all the info I could want,
There's always wikipedia.
Andrew Rueter Jan 2020
Vestigial limbs of a memory forgotten
itch like bicycle shoestrings tapping every spoke.
One day my brother asked me to visit someone with him
he said the guy was my age and feeling down
because his cat ran away
I said sure, that sounds like a nice thing to do.
After 20 minutes I realized why the cat ran
I was planning my escape route as well
this guy was miserable
completely negative
—it was annoying
and then he said it:
"System of a Down sold out with Toxicity,
which was a garbage album."
the layers of stupidity sent me into a k-hole.
Millions of fans would **** Serj Tankien's ****
if only SOAD would make one more album
but yeah, their sellouts, and your cool.
Clearly, screaming, "banana, banana, terracotta pie" repeatedly
is just telling people what they want to hear.
I tried to change the subject to politics
but he made it clear he had absolutely no interest,
well no **** he doesn't understand SOAD, it's pretty political,
but because art is subjective he thinks his opinion has value
and it does—it lets me know to stay away from his negative idiocy.

Kind of like a car ride I shared
with an older right wing friend of my father.
He scanned the radio like a crackhead
searching for a song in the shallow pool he enjoyed
his lexicon limited, our selection scarce
like a lost cat trapped in a garage
unaware of what is and isn't food.
We came across I Got A Name by Jim Croce
and he said, "Nope. No Jim Croce in this car."
Really? ******* Jim Croce?
I guess I wouldn't like his music either if I voted for Leroy Brown.

It'd be naive of me to think these people
don't work for The New Yorker
calling Ford V Ferrari "empty and hollow".
**** dude, I hate to break it to you
but if you can't find emotion in that movie
that's a flaw in you
and the hordes of imbeciles
approaching art with a "this better ******* impress me" attitude
tearing apart any movie that aims for anything elevated
to be just generally miserable or to show how "smart" they are.
Meanwhile, sniping at an actually empty and hollow movie
is seen as punching down and a waste of time
so a subculture of cynics is developed
infecting others with toxicity
to see art as a challenge to one's intelligence
rather than honest emotional expression
then people miss out on the full capability of art
and consume it improperly
and regurgitate it in front of me like a feeble feral cat.
Jules Oct 2019
I hate how it consumes me
It's not enough to feed the addiction
I can't deny my love for attention
Next page