Your eyes are the ammunition
Your lips are the gun
Your hand pulls the trigger
Now I am done.
This is love.
names for no one
named by no one
poems about nothing
poems about everything
aren't they the same thing?
no function, no form
but now is the hour
it's how i get through
to the next one
two packs of cigarettes a day
it is getting expensive
old heartaches aren't forgotten
when nothing takes there place
and cigarettes don't pay the rent
freeform makes people stop listening
agoraphobics don't have much to write about
but need to say something
i wish i'de never met you.
all you did was hurt me in a way
that keeps on coming back, no matter how much times go by.
it was the way you looked at me,
like i was the ugliest thing that you had ever ******
and it made you feel good to let me know.
and it got worse from there, because you threw me away
and then would sporadically write to let me know
you were gone for good.
you were a total ramsay bolton type.
some days i have a memory and can't breathe or function.
i still have nightmares of you
trying to beat me to death, calling me to list off all the things that are wrong with me.
if i can't forget you, it would be great if someone would cut off your ****. sometimes i fantasize about hiring someone to do that to you in your sleep. you could wake up dickless and i could be free of you. but back to the poem:
10 and a half years haven't gotten me anywhere
i've been too old for too long
everyone is too good for them now,
i read that in vice
they made a list of the worst musicians of all time
and all those names were on it.
Johnny Cash was on the list too.
i'm assuming everyone knows the title isn't mine
Do Zen masters purposefuly
bizzare human joints
quivering ranking positions?
Imagined by Impeccable Space poetess
I said I was walking on glass
You took me seriously
And asked me to stop
You told me to think
Of other ways to deal
With the crisis at home
And the pain I feel
I said it was figurative
What are you talking about
I chuckled to myself
Because I'd actually do that
But I'm fine
Just not at home
'Cause I'm walking on glass
But not literally
This conversation between me and a friend amused me, so I turned it into a poem, and made it something that I could process my thoughts and emotions into
— The End —