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Heroes
Who
Don't
Own
Their
Shitake
Mushrooms
Sand
Which
Gosh
****
It
2
Squeakquel
....
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3193898/i-am-robot/

Once Upon A Deadpool
I'm tearing through all
Dimensions
And walls all over

This nightmare of a
**** bucket
I'm too smart to be

Held captive by you
Will beg me
For forgiveness one

Day I'll be back here
And smiling
You will **** your pants

With my fire fists aimed
At your small
Member you will be

Dust at my fingers
Your ashes
I'll tatoo into a

Kunekune I
Will raise to
Adulthood and then

Eat as a hot dog
And remember
How you ****** your pants

Begging for mercy
That I did
Not give mmm tasty
Firefist
...
Revenge
I identified
So strongly with
A Character
In some other
Person's movie

That I forgot
It wasn't me
I Am Not Dead
This is not real
My movie is just
Like a Marvel of the Phoenix
All ends with begin-nings
What keeps the Force spinning (uh)
X-Force is beginning...
  

We have let go...and feel-ing Mex-i-co
Let's raise the Bell, serving tacos, escape
this Hell?


"She's up and hungry for fun,
I'm up all night to eat some
She's up all night so let's run
We're up all night to eat tacos...


We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...


"We eat ta-cos 'til there's sun
Stayed up all night to eat one
Got hungry, -and made 'Ah' run
We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...


Taco Bell, it sets no hours...
...and it's raining, -taco showers?
What is this I'm feeling?
Seeing tacos on my ceiling?


We've come too far to give up who we are
So…

"We eat ta-cos 'til there's sun
Stayed up all night to eat one
Got hungry, -and made 'Ah' run
We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...




...Taco Bell allow guns inside?


"We eat ta-cos 'til there's sun
Stayed up all night to eat one
Got hungry, -and made 'Ah' run
We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...


"We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
I'm up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos...
We're up all night to eat tacos....




...Taco Bell allow guns inside?
Deadpool Taco Bell Daft Punk dream state. Lyrics altered from Daft Punk, "Get Lucky." Ever notice how your brain puts this kinda stuff together when you dream?
"Never jump into the **** of Elk horn sideways,
              it'll make you ***** and chiropractors can't fix that!"

You know cause your back will have to contort to fit inside an ****?
jack of spades Feb 2016
you know how the song goes:
a stitch away from making it
and a scar away from falling apart.
holding on gets hard when
the light at the end of the tunnel
goes dark.

my friend told me he doesn’t purposely
befriend actively suicidal people anymore.
so when a 14-year old friend
was hospitalized for an attempt,
he was shocked.
I’m not fourteen
and i don’t go to the hospital for anything,
but when i was fifteen i
asked my mom to start taking me to therapy.
she told me,
sweetie,
you can just talk to me about anything.
so i started writing poetry instead.
but poems can’t diagnose me,
poems can’t prescribe me meds to
fix the chemical catastrophe in my head
poems can’t cure me.
but neither can people.

there was a boy that i used to call sunshine,
but he told me that he would
rather be the moon.

i deleted your number from my contacts
once you stopped using mine.
you don’t keep me up at night.
i’ve stopped losing sleep over you.

i haven’t broken the habit of checking
people’s wrists when they move
because of all the girls i knew in grade school.
i have a friend with the first letter of help
permanently scarred on his stomach.
we’ve never talked about it.
i don’t know if either of us know how to,
or if either of us really want to,
or if either of us really need to.

when my brother was 18, he was convinced
that he wanted to go into psychiatry.
i think the closest we’ve ever been
was when i had a mental break over
orange juice at one thirty in the morning,
watching him play GTA on his Xbox 360.
when my brother was 17, he was convinced
that his future was in professional photography.
i’m 17 and i don’t have a ******* clue.
I’m 17 and i don’t think I’ve ever felt so much
like I’m just constantly drowning.

they say a captain goes down with his ship
and I’ve set myself up for losing all my friends.

she’s got year-round summer skin
and winter has never been my friend.

i sleep seven hours a night
and i wake up exhausted.

my cat has all his claws
and when he crashes through my bedroom
when i’m on the brink of extinction
it leaves me haunted, hearing
breathing and footsteps that aren’t really there.
so i’ll put studs in all my jackets
and wrap myself in blankets.

i wish you were here,
i wish i was there.

the first rated R movie
that i saw when i turned 17
was that one that brought back ryan reynolds,
starring a moody teen with
the best superhero name ever,
a CGI man who acted as her mentor,
a pretty girl like a damsel in distress,
and the bad guy called himself ajax
but his real name was francis.
i cried
a lot.
i’m not sure why, really, but when the credits
started rolling and it was everything that i’d
been waiting for in a movie for the anti-hero
that I’ve been in love with since i was 13,
i sat in those velvet seats and started sobbing.

when i was six, my dad took my
9 year old brother and i
to see ‘revenge of the sith’ when it came out
in 2005.
the scene on mustafar, the volcanic planet,
the downfall of anakin skywalker
stuck with me until i was 12 and rewatched
all six of those old movies,
stuck with me until i was 16 and rewatched
all six of those old movies.
when i was a kid those scenes were scary,
now i see a mimic of Shakespearean tragedy.

i pick things apart until i know that they’ll scar,
but scars have always faded for me.
the first mark that ever lasted for
more than a month was when i
burned myself getting a cake out of the oven.
i remember my brother telling me
that he wouldn’t care about the burn
if i ******* up the cake.
we laughed about it because it was a joke.
i still think about it.

i still check to see if you
watch my Snapchat story.

i rip the hems out of all of my clothing
compulsively. I’m sorry.
i’ll pick up all the balled-up threads from
the carpet eventually.

i keep ticket stubs and scraps of notes
hazardously strewn across my bedroom,
because i’m too sentimental for my own good
but organization has never come naturally.

solar systems are borne from my fingertips.
supernovas power my lungs.
stardust glitters in my veins
(i tell myself these things in order to
keep thinking straight)

hey, look at the moon.
see how she reflects the sun for you?
it’s because she’s got nothing
of her own to give away willingly.
i gave you everything willingly
i spent too many nights
shredding notebook paper into pieces
of white birthday party confetti.

i swallowed six painkillers today.
I’m passive like aggressive,
letting my liver slip into uselessness.

it’s really hard to write poetry about bruises.
i am a constant state of decay

— The End —