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MetaVerse Oct 13
There once was a fella from France
Who'd dance a libidinous dance:
     He'd focus the eyes
     Of the club on his thighs,
Then dance himself out of his pants.
jǫrð Jul 2022
Beckoning to me
The door open
The room clean
All except for you and me

I lost my mind
There on the floor
You gave me some
I needed some more

Pushed my legs back
Sank in deep
I didn't make a peep
For you, I'm meek
The History: I dreamt of loving you. Dreamt of your tongue, dreamt of your eyes meeting mine in the room in which I'm seated as I write this. That dream never came true but I can use it to cope.
Miss Clofullia May 2018
I'm waiting for a car that will never come
to take me to a place that doesn't exist.

I'm constantly looking at a world that has nothing to show
but enjoys being watched,
like a ****** - exhibitionist relationship.
Match made in heaven.
Heaven made in Adobe Photoshop CS 6.

I'm eager to create some art that won't change anyone
but will cost a lot of money.
~ I'm willing to settle for no money and will change at least one~

I'm constantly trying to reach out to people
that get higher up the mountain,
each on his own personal journey.
Untouchable. Distant.
Not having the slightest clue that there's someone
on their trail, on the narrow forest path.

I'm looking for ways to make others happy
but, in the process, I'm becoming sadder
every day.
Even though my state of mind is low,
it's not making me deep. I never said I was deep.

I'm not an ocean of wisdom or anything like this.
Come to think about it, I'm not a huge fan of water,
not being a good swimmer and everything..

I don't think I have anything in common with the sea,
even though I was told
I can easily suffocate others
with my worries, sorrows and disbelief.

I'm working on finding a job that doesn't feel like work
and let's you smile,
beyond an annual cocktail event, in a fancy club,
with drunk
employees of the month
that are trying all night to find ways
to bang each other without their significant others ever finding out,
without knowing what guilt means..
Some of them will end up home,
with a clean shirt and a ***** conscience.
For others, it won't ever feel like home.

I'm playing the game of hating the player
and I think they're gonna award me the MVP title
if I continue to not love myself.

I'm trying to end this poem in style,
but I'm afraid I won't be able to,
'cause I think my car has arrived.


[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gr96A9XG1rs

— The End —