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Martin Narrod May 2017
Tangley Wangling

Fruit Jews in Tutus at youth group, maybe just a few with their screws loose. One self-rolling righteous group, their brothers grinning
Within the depths of their white-heads at the brim of a wet blanket suckling the needles catering new drug use. Two by two, elefants and woozels, hippopotamü's confusals, spongey-butts outfitting the rye n' wines refusals.

The luxury of a coccyx felt from the fingers turn to sunrise, where the water's weigh the bricks of suicides, concrete block tourniquets from the migraines of English turnabouts. So there's some surplus of surprise in them, in an integers shock-appraisal face-lift on Catholicism's lobotomy to cuckhold housewives seeking collagen, or the thick dark-skinned forearm-******* insider's swinging in the houses of the denizens, or repurposing their malign from their unused vaginas, to **** the dust off such scab-covered stitches, which is like vacuuming between the loose inner-leg space of a succubus.

Bring out the gimp! Any fetishized leather-wearing hungry miner for the oral tongue-slapping mouth-dance might do, as long as the dom can subdue that sub tied to the stocks voted on for the public to use, there might be screaming, squirming, and scoffs, but there's nothing left for him that Marina Abramowicz hasn't already proven she's willing to lose. Plus, in this small town not far enough from Laramie, there's still too much fat to chew through, too much flab to tuck the **** into, where even the F.U.P.A. so deep that a *******-day or deity might need the leverage of a boot to get even Ron Jeremy's **** unglued.

Lucky loos by the brothel befit these new arrivals, though some tyrannosaurs despise 'em, smoke as much as you can if you've got 'em.

But don't let your antiques get you down, an ornithologist lends herself to your bookends, and even that nighthawk roosting makes your car alarm sound second rate, it's seconds late as the aves rave to the ravens, and they pontificate. Owls hoo-hoo and hooting, branch off with the others and start colluding. They just wanna get you home, to get back those prosthetics you've loaned.

Canoodling barbarians on their way back from the aquarium, demand  their fires come from oblivion, which sends sparks of arguments from the sharks and the bathylkopian oblivions, where we found that this water's warm these citizens, demand recompense for such grandiose living expense, three pence to use the phone, twelve rupees towards the sofa, and even a deutsch mark for every sit or every look at sit, it's just a chair, a doubly set of wooden legs, idling under a table plank. Pirated by the buttocks, such bullocks it is, and that's just it!

An archaeologist on assignment discovered that the future of the rhinoceros exists upon the olfactory exaggerated proboscis, the result of flushing unused anti-biotics, and is currently working for dimes out of college to deluge this quite deprived yet interesting biopic.  

The films of the *****, grab at the ***** thrown about by The Monkees, and the musicians wearing those stickers on their *******, are victim to XXS cotton denim vests, unzipped and barely covering themselves, added to by the accessories and rings, jewelry if anything, a pearl necklace and nubile sacrifis.

And the trollops frolic, diurnally dispose of logic, doing the hoopty-hoop, the alley-oops, with mom's high school flute in nothing but cowboy boots!

These are, the new discoveries of our species, carved into the marble and wet frescos, in the street reliefs, spray-painted and air-brushed motif, this creates such gatherings for throngs of people who've unachieved their needs, who've displaced their parents and display their racist grieving beliefs to trash indigenous language pleas for francophonian linguistic greed that have splayed their hellacious treaty in what's considered to be modern circumscribed and ill-painted cuneiform visually conceived, vocal graffiti.

So that the neu-faux derogatory delegates stress to sudatorium, it has regressed to moratoriums, we've now cancelled this sport consortium of awful and flagrant art performances.
Leandra Jan 2017
Things will get better
That is what everyone says.
But has anything got better,
No.
Nothing has got better.
Everything has gotten worse.
Nothing has emotional has changed.
My mind is still to him and I still love him.
Yes, I know that he loves someone else now.
Yes,
I know that I am nothing to his memories now.
Everything will be okay.
No it won't
I haven't been okay for almost a year.
Everything will change, he will miss you.
He said he loved me but the smile that was on his face after the pain
Says something completely different.
He still loves you,
Now
you are trying to hurt me
Kayla Aug 2016
I kissed a boy today
Another stranger in hopes of
Finding you at my door once again

When we kissed,
He felt like you
Except my eyes were open
And his were closed

You taught me
That having my eyes closed
Allowed my walls to come down
Allowed vulnerability
I no longer have that luxury
God I miss you

I felt nothing kissing him
Please come back to me, my dear
Kiss me like when we were at the park alone
In the soft spring
I wish to feel again
Fight or flight
A gut response.

I've bathed in hatred dressed like leathermans pointed at my ribcage.

Jumped off rooftops thinking the ground was softer than my future.

Told woman to choke me until I purple
Purple plays verb safer than run
Than scream
than remember.

When your sancuary
Has a spotlight on the one thing you've been escaping from.
Fight or flight.

"Hello"
You tap her shoulder.
Confirm she's not your hallucination.
You still aren't sure.
You couldn't touch long enough.

Do not ask.
"where is she?"
Or "so you're an alcohaulic now?"
Or "are you having a panic attack? Because I'm having a panic attack.
And you used to always have panic attacks.

Do not pose:
If I avoid the streets of an entire city
So I won't cross your path.
whether you are there or not.
See Your ghost in the deli,
Order gelato, carrying a carseat.
hear your name
reach out to thin air
that belongs in my lungs.

Why, beautiful disaster
Are you skipping your A.A. meeting
Sitting at this bar, that I call home.
Drinking on a stool that with one moment
Belongs to your ghost now.

how did you stumble into this bomb shelter?
Were the salt circles not enough to keep you out?
have I not been loud enough?
I preach the Gospel of this microphone.
Everyone within a ten mile radius of a screen
knows I come here at this time
on this day
every week

If you ever want to see me.
I'll be here.
I can't leave.

You can.
You don't have to.
I mean, I didn't invite you.
But when has that ever stopped you before?
If you need to face me head on.
Come.
I need you too.
Let's dance
Forget the empty dresser covered in princess stickers
Forget the swirling mattress of our lies and mistakes.
**** Google+
your perfect ***,
the photographs I can't delete.

Jump on this bar table with me.
Show them how it breaks under our weight.
Smash that beer against the wall
Jam the broken bottle in my ribs
I promise you.
I will ******* feel it.
If my blood doesn't spill out.
If my pain doesn't splatter this godamned stage.
If a single person in this room forgets
This dance
When we purple.
our bodies slammed off every dining room table
Shatter wine glasses into chapbooks
tear off your fake smiling mask
throw it at a nearby ******.
Naked screaming killing each other.
When we blackout.

your ghost will still be sitting at the godamned bar haunting me.

And it's funny
Why does it hurt?
It's not like I go a day
without seeing you anyway
Carissa Blessing Mar 2016
My eyes are so heavy sitting in the passenger seat
Following the bits and pieces of thoughts passing by out the window
Everything seems hazy these days
It'll never be the same
Maybe it's just the aftermath of the breath I release, caused by relief
Or maybe not relief at all
My lungs are inflamed
Every time I try to talk about it, I tend to cough up the anger I pushed so far down into the center of my being
I don't want to be angry anymore
I'm happy for you, really
My heart rejoices at the fact that you found something "better"
To Jupiter and Back my knees scrape the ground
This pounding moved from my chest to my head
I love you never seemed to hurt more
Maybe because it doesn't belong to me
I wish I didn't have to relive the memories of the past
They are an overcast that never leave my dreams
I wish it would pour so that I wouldn't have to bare holding in all this resentment
An empty mind never seems to last long anymore
Why am I still ******* to you?
I hate that you're beautiful.
that I'm too weak to delete this picture.
That the most intimate thing left of you
is your body.
After four years of living out every fantasy.
A home,
baby,
making dinner,
fighting,
making up,
waking up next to you.
All i'm left with
is this carnal desire to possess you again
like you used to belong to me.
And isn't that the worst thing.
Isn't that the whole reason I left in the first place.
Because we both knew that nobody belongs to anyone.
Yet after all my grieving
All my lovers between now and then.
This is the memory I cherrish most.
This last chance to steal you.
When we were already breaking We thought it might save us.
How foolish we were.
See in the picture you can tell we were breaking.
Your eyes begging to forget.
Just like I beg to forget you.

The first time I saw you walk into a room
I deleted all the naked photographs of my ex lover in that instant.
Just in case you checked.
Just in case I flirted with you.

No girl has earned that same memory.

It belongs to you.
See, memories you can claim.
But not people.

The time you refused to accept
blankets between us and the cold ground
of our tent would keep us warmer
than piling them all on top of us.
That we can keep.
That mistake belongs to us.

The night we took this photograph.
The curvature of your hips.
Your arms hung dead like the maronette strings snapped that day.

That's a memory That i've captured.
See, even though you're gone and I don't have you.
I have this picture.

Why is it that i can go every day of my life loving people for who they are.
Seeing their dreams and past lives.

But with you
Blood.
I see this carnal need to devour you
like some delicacy.
Some favorite dish.

I hate that you're still beautiful.
I hate that you turn me into this monster.

One who sees girl as flesh not human.
Bones as shield not structure.

And it's only you.
This one thing i hate.
Who I need to ****.
Who I need to possess again.

I'm so glad I left you.
Glad I killed the monster.
But I can't delete this picture.

Every lonely night That I would cry alone and miss you, I don't.
I crave you instead.
Claw into your flesh
pull out a still regretably beating heart.

I feed it to this beast.
That demands you dehumanized.
pray I never see you in real life again.
fear that may be the last day I'm human.
Elizabeth Dec 2015
I know exactly how you’re ******* your new girlfriend.

I know you’re going to play “Sing for Me” by Yellowcard in the background. I know you’re going to **** on that song like we never danced to it at prom, like you never learned it on acoustic for me, like we didn’t make out to it under my lit Christmas tree.

I know 9 times out of 10 she’s going to initiate and that will **** her off.

I know how long it’s going to last you, how you’re going to try so hard to old it in but in the pit of your stomach you know it doesn’t work.

I know your glasses are going to fog up and get smudged with face grease and you’ll need to Windex them afterward.

I know you’re going to say “I love you” to her right after. You’ll mean it, but regret that you do. Soon you’ll need to fix that.

I know you’re going to eat a bowl of Raisin Bran once you’ve dressed again.

I know you’re going to talk about this time until the next time, and she’ll give in just to shut you up. Also because she really does love you, and wants to please you.  

I know you’re going to beg she sleeps in your clothes without underwear before showering, and she will if you reciprocate.

I know you’re going to talk about *** like it’s divine, like it’s balanced on a pedestal located in the most untouched corner of Eden.

I know you’re going to treat all of this like a chocolate fountain, infinitely filling and never squandered.

And you haven’t been home, so you don’t know that the first place we made love is demolished to rubble and stone. You told me good things last forever,

But I know you lie. Yellowcard told us “no looking back when I am gone”, and for a year and a half those words were wedding vows.  

But you’re obsessed with conclusion, and feeling,

So you’ll leave her, just like you did me,

To feel again, because these love affairs are nothing but alcoholic drinks you choke down to numb.

You said don’t look back when you’re gone, but there is no forward from here.
This piece is intended to be performed as a slam.
Chalsey Wilder Oct 2015
You
Remind me of the beauty you had
You're not the girl I tried to convince myself to love
Yeah, *****, you getting terrible
I like it, and I love it
But I hate it and dislike it
I expected you to be a better person

But, you know
You said your purpose was to disappoint
Achieving goals one at a time!
I got a knock on my door about a week after the break up.

"Can I come in?"
Honestly, I didn't know if she could.
"Where is she?"
"Her grandparents" she said, stepping inside.
It turns out ex-girlfriends are not like vampires,
They may, in fact, walk in uninvited.

"What have you been up to?" I ask,
As I close the door behind her.

"Work. You?"

"I had *** with a girl in Kennebunk"

"Oh, let me guess, nerdy with an irish face?"
She knew my type.

"No actually, Egyptian... I know, weird"

We walk up to the bedroom.
I try to hold her hand,
But she pulls away.

"I miss you."
"I miss you too," she says, "but it will make things harder,
You know that."

"Did you **** him yet?"
She doesn't look at me.

"So yes. When? How long did it take?"
"Nick, you don't need to know"

"I need to know, more than anything. When?"

"That night."
"The night I called you?"
She's quiet.

We decide that since we aren't together anymore,
It'd be a good idea to confess
All of the things we lied about over the years
So it'd be easier to hate each other.

We circle around the bed taking turns.
Getting angrier, and angrier.

"As soon as I walked in their door
His girlfriend stripped all my clothes off.
She didn't even let me say hello."

"Well you know that love song
I wrote for you?
It was actually for my ex girlfriend."

"He said I was great at riding him,
And when we were done,
We smoked a bowl and cuddled."

"You cuddled!?"

"Yes. Cuddled."

"I want, just.
To *******."

"Then do it."

I fade awake with her naked body draped over me
Like the world's most comfortable blanket.

This is the last time I get to feel this happy.
Like a dream.
Safe. Comfortable. Warm.

As I open my eyes,
I see the empty room.
Her things are already gone.
She is a foreign object in my bed.

Her once delicate touch turns
Hot coal and burns me.
I jump back and bury
My head in my hands.
The room starts spinning.
I don't love her, I'm not happy,
We aren't happy.
I hate her. I hate this room.
I hate myself.
I want everything to just go!
"Put your clothes on and just go!"

She is awake now.
She reaches for my phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Do you know my number?"
"I don't have it memorized."
"Good."
She hands me back my phone.
"If I need you, I'll call you."

She leaves.
Forever this time.
It turns out I was wrong.
Ex-girlfriends are exactly,
Like vampires.
Stormy Bailey May 2015
Person one
We thought we were in love,
and you made plans for our future,
and I put up with all your faults,
as you put up with mine.
but then it all started to fall apart,
and you wouldn't tell me what was wrong,
and I started to hate you for the way you made me feel.
I felt I was doing something wrong,
or maybe it was just you,
was I abusive in the way I treated you?
should I find someone new?
And as I told you it was over,
you were expressionless, you didn’t seem to care,
and I was angry cause I wondered if love was ever there,
we had been so happy,
and life was okay.
then after November,
everything changed.
Person Two
I loved you with all my heart,
and I think you loved me to,
there were no fights between us,
and our love was bright and new,
you were so perfect,
and you still are I guess,
but then that November,
my heart was torn from my chest.
I was waiting to see you,
and I was so happy that whole time,
and even now some part of me wishes you were still mine.
cause that night when you spoke to me,
you said it had to end,
and I was in tears and sobbing,
but you said it was for the best,
and I accepted you didn't love me,
and I supported you wanting someone else,
because though I still loved you,
and you had loved me,
after November,
everything changed.
Person One
Now your a point of anxiety,
not to be mentioned, because it hurts so.
I may have hurt you, but you hurt me to,
and you still don't seem to want to know.
its like your a cloud, a fog in my past,
blurring the good memories and bad,
and we had been happy,
then November came,
and it was all torn apart,
now everything has changed.
Person Two*
I still speak with you,
and I still love you so,
I would still die for you, if the moment came.
though you have someone else,
and I want to know them too,
because my love has changed from how it once was.
you broke my heart,
but our friendship healed it.
and I don't quite trust love,
but I know I love you.
and though I wouldn’t come back to you,
you're still dear to my heart,
and our memory’s will always be cherished.
cause we were in love,
and though we may grow apart,
November came,
and not everything changed.
This poem I actually wrote after my best friend and her girlfriend broke up (Person one) and my girlfriend and I broke up all around the same time (Person Two).
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