Jack 3h
High as a kite he soared,
Visions of worlds running by, never bored,
Filling his lungs, letting go of the weight he flew,
In the end just another distraction from you.
Anything to forget. Stay Strong and Live Well. JY x
The static settles, finally I see a channel that isn't a rainbow,
And the voices are clear as the day, no rain.
I have no stakes, as I watch this show,
trying to ignore this feeling, this little tow.

Even if I put my music in, nice and loud, just to try and drown it all away, it helps like medicine, but it will always come back eventually,
I'm not a cute little doe, but you are a mighty buck, strength resides in you, while weakness envelopes me and my fear,
I tremble internally

I'm not going to be with anyone, and no one is going to be with me, they all hate me, I know it, I feel it, especially from the buck now.
Antlers powerful and strong, ready to knock me down, stab me into the ground, let my blood pour and stain your hands.
Do It.


I am desperate not to feel these things anymore,
these emotions that have come to me, with steadily realisation that they are real, I've discovered the cancer inside me, from the cigarette butts that were your voice and laugh that consumed me, and your hugs of blanket warmth, the disease that has settled within me.

You've infected my brain, like drugs have done to addicts.
I really despise having..feelings for people.
A feeling.
A burst of light.
A desperation.
A cry for help.
A hint of joy.
A ray of hope.
A sadness...

Haggard men in tattered clothing
On the concrete sandbars
Of the great black stone
Thirsty.  Starving.
"Thank you and God bless!"

Can you help me?
Do you care?

Pastor sits in his wooden box.
On your knees in your
Private prison.
Pass the collection plate.
Glory,  hallelujah!

Can you help me?
Do you care?

High school kids shoot heroin.
One long row of
Slack bodies.
Deep nods.
Where am I? What am I doing here?

Can you help me?
Do you care?

A new government,  built on
Bad decisions.
For the money,  of the moneyed.
Blinding white hair,  trading blood
For precious oil...
"We, the people of the United States..."

Can you help me?
Do you care?

A sadness.
A desperation.
A cry for help.
A burst of light.  
A hint of joy.
A ray of hope.
A feeling...
I don't remember exactly when i wrote this one.  Sometime last year.
She had everything she
To make most men fall.
Mindless zombies,
Men like me,  so oblivious
To it all.

Smelled her cooking,
So sick and
so sweet
A poison that's all her own.
Heroin swept her off
Her feet,
Now Holly
Wants to be alone.

She slithers down my street
At night,
A needle in her hand.
One more shot and Heroin Holly
Fades to neverland...

In her dark eyes,  I see
Her past.
It's all so dark and sad.

Under her bruises,  I
Can see her light.
The only hope she
about a girl i used to know.  Sad story.
So many people walking by,
So dead,  but still alive.
They're all in a rush to
Get in line.
Familiar faces,  with their smiles
As blank as mine,
Open eyes and empty minds...

Stuck in their patterns,  day and night,
With no release in sight,
They live and die inside their hives...
From nine to five they keep their
Masters satisfied;
White collared slaves who don't realize...

They drown their pain in
Beer and wine,
Illusions of good times.
Just leave your hopes and dreams

Check your emotions,
Leave your happy at the door.
Drowning depressions while they're lying on the floor.

I see the sadness in their eyes,
The truth behind their lies.
See, they can't laugh,  and i
Can't cry...

They form the pieces of the same machine,  and I?
I'm standing by,  

Watching your world through heroin eyes...
A poem I wrote during my worst of times.
Chloe 23h
the one that caught your look
the one that heard the roses like you
the one that smelt like a antique book
the one that pissed you right off
the one that made you want to take your clothes off
the one that made your nerves feel electric

the one that tasted like love,
but was never fully digested.

the heartbreakers
and the still waiters.

for hope is still about,
waiting while they have some doubt.
Tell me,
How many sips does it take,
How many puffs does it take,
How many pills does it take,
How many sniffs does it take,
How many needles does it take,
To feel the way I do?
g hope 2d
drinking isn't fun anymore
and drugs aren't fun anymore
and popping pills isn't fun anymore
and blacking out isn't fun anymore,
but death sounds appealing
and i know that makes me sound crazy
and maybe i am,
but the sadness is made of me and i can't let go
and oh god i want to let go
please let me let go
i'll get better
Drowning in a muddy mind,
So high in the sky;
That I could feel the clouds.

Spinning around,
Feeling like I could take on the world.
Grinning like a mad dog,
Will I inject another shot of Mr. Cloud Nine.

He takes my hand and spins me around,
We're moving to the beat, doing the tango.

He promise sweet nothings,
Makes me feel a sense of alive,
I feel so empowered with him by my side.

He offers me his cigar,
I take it knowing I'm already too far gone,
Mr. Cloud Nine is my sweetheart,
He promises to never let me go.
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