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nat Jan 2019
bathed myself in bleach
and scrubbed my skin with rubbing alcohol
when i light myself on fire
i feel somewhat better
and i have swept the kitchen floor a lot
almost obsessively
but when i walk around i still feel dirt on the bottom of my feet
i am surprised i still have the ability to feel anything
i tried drinking gasoline and licking flames
like megan fox in jennifer's body but
i am a freak and a coward so things didn't work out
still, i am used to disappointment
and i am used to hating myself
emma hunt david Dec 2018
Razor on the bathroom sink and the smell of pine and aftershave
Calloused hands
Dirt fingernails
You packed and formed the soil like clay
Like paint
You were an artist, silent in the morning
Coffee before work
One beer after
One beer after and a warm dinner she made
Pine and aftershave
on the stairs
on the carpet
on the carpet on the stairs
Lean in
Lean in, kids
Lean in and I’ll tell you about them
You said,
You are an artist,
Silent and coffee in the morning
Loud and beer on the stairs,
on the carpet in the afternoon
Leather seat
Newspaper dogear
Brewers turned on
In the leather seat,
‘Turn it up,
They’re winning!’
They’re winning
They’re winning
Screen porch
Wooden door
Screen porch through the wooden door
Sitting
Bumblebee Boompa
Bumblee Boomps
In the garden
On the sink
In the kitchen
On the stairs
In the living room
On the porch
You are an artist
Silent in the morning
Loud
Loud
Loud in the afternoon
and winning
emma hunt david Jan 2019
deep purple
mauve maybe
in the month of may
diving
swimming
blue navy blue
turquoise grey teal and green
earth green like mushroom
dirt brown
black as ash
grey as it too
gray grey
gray grey
soft not a whisper never yells either
don't tell me what to do though
or how to see
i have eyes and my ears
are alive and my cats stretch and my coffee is burnt and my roommate
is gone and i
am singing
and i see the strings and hear the room and they are not yelling no one is yelling or whispering or hushing up or talked over because i am alone.
why did you assume i am sad, then?
i am not.
Thomas Mackie Jan 2019
We stomp and we romp
with our filthy, bare feet
we jump and we bump
in the high summer heat.

Just skin, nails, and teeth
stop when we see blood
we are the ***** girls
rolling around in the mud.

We're queer, we drink beer
in the park in the dark
we yawp, twist, and shout
and we jeer and we bark.

We **** for the thrill
in the sweet with sweat season;
we say it's revenge,
but we don't need a reason.

Saturated plum flesh
bursting between jaws,
we are boundless, we are seeping,
we are love without laws.
Dear straight people,
It is a common believe that queers are docile, non-threatening, non- violent, and weak. That being queer is a choice to attract others. This is a poem to remind you that we are as natural as the sun, we are everywhere, and that we are not afraid to smash your brains in with a brick.
Sincerely,
Author
Xandra Lynch Jan 2019
bright red bubbles pop from underneath my feet
red as cherry trees that won't grow
can this be blood?
dirt from in between my toenails
i wash off Mother Nature's skin  
a leaking coming from my eyes
that washes away dissatisfaction
can these be tears?
the sound of feet against the ground
solid and unloving
i slip
face down into the ground
can this be where life comes from?
an old lady plants flowers in her garden
can this be inspiration?
i am losing my train of thought
can this brain be me?
Matteo Palermo Dec 2018
Write your name in the dirt over my grave
Abby M Dec 2018
Faithful buds you poke your heads out green
Leaves unfold round petals’ silky sheen
Sunlight draws you from your cellar rest
Dry-dirt roots seek water to ingest
Gift of romance, jewel of child’s crown
Found and owned, your beauty not your own
Perfect picture, ruined out of love
Plucked from home you flourish long for none
Riley Cartwright Dec 2018
you were my Sun and i was your lively Earth

now you are a burning star and i am just

dirt
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