When it hurts it hurts.
When sadness grips my throat I let it linger.
I let the breath in my lungs dissipate.
Because why does it matter?

When it hurts it hurts.
When the air is leaving my body and memories flood in,
I don't care if I have no air.
The next best thing is the death of the old.

But the problem is whenever it dies and I have "Moved on" it's a lie.
I get dragged back in.
I somehow get breath back in my lungs.
And the past comes back to life.

Today was one of those days.
A photograph was found,
A feeling was ignored,
A day of hurt pursued.

When it hurts it hurts.
When the past is found
When the past is relived.
**** me and the edge that I get to.

I see over the cliff.
I see over the precipice.
I take the leap over and over again, but I keep ending up right where I started.
The past won't ******* die.

When it hurts it hurts,
And guess what?
Right now, in this moment,
It ******* hurts.

Sorry, mom and dad
Sorry, sensitive folks.
Sorry, for writing this down and putting it out in the world.
But right now I don't care.

I'll tag it explicit.
I'll tag it adults only.
But guess what?
Life is explicit even if you don't swear.

Because when it hurts it hurts.
When the truth is laid out before you, don't run from it.
Embrace the truth, the pain, the misery, the sadness.
Even if you try to ignore it, you can't.
Because when it HURTS it HURTS.

I want her back
I don't want to move on.

I don't want her back.
I want to move on.

I'll probably be better tomorrow.
But who knows?
I sure as Hell don't.
What I do know...

What I do know...

Sorry for the repeat I was really trying to find something to say there.

Oh I remember...

When it hurts it hurts.
Let me be,
Let me feel,
Let me not be home,
Let me be far away.

God, when it hurts it hurts and you understand.
God, when those photographs find their way to my eyes let me hurt.
It's not wrong to feel the way you feel.
I'm allowed to be sad.
Even if every fiber of my being is ashamed I haven't moved on.

When it hurts it hurts.
Let it be.
Leave me be.
Leave it where it is, so I can see.  


Pressed up against the wall, her arch creaked, her spine sang and my right held her at the base and my left wrapped in her silk mane.

She had me on the ground,
belly pressed against the winter wooden creaking floor,
with my arms at the side,
and her pistil to my face.

The rain passed.

My laundry hangs,
wet and heavy,
for all to see,
as they pass the yard.

"****'em."

It was hot, and I was starving.

The air was thick and dry, causing flies to drown as they land on your scorching skin. Drunk, I pray for water but I get Guadalupe. She hugs and kisses me stating that I will live forever because she was just blah blah blahing about me. The world quakes in my head until she blesses me with a sealed bottle of polish springs. I shower my tongue with it, wringing out the cuff of my shirt to get every drop. 

Now, famine was left to conquer.

"Come over. I live two flights up with a comfy bed just callin' for ya'."

I guess clam soup it is.

It is the default setting to hide explicit writings ,
But i don't think they had anything wrong in their writings.

It's written that if you add explicit words in your poems, it will be hidden
And apparently there are too many poems which are explicit word-ridden.

Can anyone please tell me what makes a poem explicit writing
A poem is a description of people's feelings and fighting.

I am really confused for I don't know if this poem will be hidden or not
But I think I am gonna give it a shot .

This setting has hidden so many writes  from me
And when I asked the poets why ,
there was no answer found to be .

Now it is my humble request if anyone will answer my question
This thing already has all of my attention .

a face of stone and bloodred eyes
he is not dumb, he is not wise
a vampire, dressed in black attire
ruler of the world, lobby boss, a rock

a fierce narcissist being hurt
even by your friendliest words
knife-like fingernails, teeth spiky
he slits you up, devours your heart

cannibal lecter style for real
he just does not know how to feel
psychopathic soul, a tall goon
ruling from a bone-made throne

you can not make a deal with him:
he's like a bank and always wins
your family is dead my friend
today is your turn: you will burn

barbeque-images, intestines
human-scented steak with bloodshakes
festival of gore, you creature
since you are the vampire's feature

humans come, humans go, you know?
a vampire does not bother
he will tear your body apart
to carve a poem into your flesh

I hate living, I hate being a cow
I see the farmer, Bob my “best pal”
As he sits right beside me, get the noose
Every morning he takes my ***** juice