Warm up
Listening to intuition
Hands full
Cast as a wallpaper
Time traveler
Witnessed the disgrace
Can’t explain more
Stereotype, eccentric?
Towards a familiar face
Being a neophyte
With a marijuana life
Switching gears into auto pilot
Floated with no gravity
Clarity, that makes no sense
Unseen, unheard but close to heart

A selection bias
Let the Adrenaline rush
Dream or nightmare?
Claws sharper than Scalpel
Waiting for a response
“Yes” is the answer
Proof of life
Night with an open eyes.
God’s mistake
All come with an expiration date.
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
Temporal Fugue Nov 2017
Don't hang hangers, from the sprinklers
don't put your fingers, into sockets
no hamsters in the microwaves
no used gum, into your pockets

Don't leave the milk on the counter
leftovers, throw out, after four days
keep your face off of the copier
don't use, expired, mayonnaise

So many do's and don'ts
mostly, they're man-made
as nature tries to kill us
providing no, band-aids
Take a look around, somewhere, close, there will be a warning that was motivated by the bean counters to insure that stupid people can't sue them :/
Lesson learned:-
"Forever", synonymous to "no longer", has expiration date as well.
People say i m yours "forever"
And one day it becomes
I m yours "no longer"

And one day this forever expires...

I wonder this forever is not for ever...
CK Marrow Jan 2017
That mundane drip is so torturous.
The end is inevitable,
each second,
each breath
each drip.
Is it not beautiful?
With death comes life.
After ever winter
comes a spring.
Our expiration is approaching.

Drip drop goes the clock,
slowly ebbing away at our existence.
As humanity slowly wears away into nothingness,
we pray to any available deity,
for more wind-chill,
for one drip longer.

We are all destined to die.
We just hope
To leave more of an impression
on society
than an inevitable puddle
destined to wash away
when tomorrow comes.
Annick Gray Dec 2015
Time is not a concept,
it’s a preconception
created by people that have never felt
love.

Or, so I always believed.

Now, I sit awake every night
thinking about our expiration date,
the day to which we
meet a bitter demise.

A demise devised by
a whole world around us,
a world that will
never see the shrink sticker stuck.

The ticking won’t stop
on the time bomb of us,
as we leap, crawl, roll, dart
to our expiration date.

We can’t stop rolling,
faster down this path
to a little place that
will be our personal hell.

A hell that we believe in,
a hell that he is counting on,
a hell that hath its fury,
a hell that I am dreading.

Yet, everyday I take your hand,
kiss your fingers,
caress your lips,
and stare at the brilliance that is your eyes

in an attempt to forget
our expiration
date.
I will probably edit this in the future, but I wanted to post for the time being.
Michelle Garcia Nov 2014
i look at the bags beneath my eyes and i see a crime scene,
a restless heart made of shattered  glass bottles
and shouted words sharp enough to cut through skin
and i wonder why anyone would choose
to love someone like me

you’re the kind of boy with electric lips,
the kind of boy who bleeds poetry
and you’re a crime scene just like me,
one that screams danger,
you set everything around you on fire
yet i wouldn’t mind being turned to ash by you

i’m a ticking bomb of interrupted love
and i worry that you’ll leave me,
that you’ll run away with my fleeting heart
still tiredly beating in your hands
and i’ll be forced to destroy everything around me
just because you couldn’t love a girl who couldn’t love herself

i fear the day i’ll wake up on the ground
realizing that i am just another painted face
in your pile of broken girls with expiration dates

— The End —