Mims 23h

I'm getting ill
I can feel it in the back of my throat
I'm getting ill
I can feel it everytime I try to speak
I'm getting ill
And I probably shouldn't be eating this Mac and cheese BUT LET ME LIVE MY FUCKING LIFE DAMMIT!

Lonely? Nonono not lonely
Crazy? Uh.. yes..
I fucking love Mac and cheese
If you have a sore throat you're not supposed to eat dairy but you know what we're all gonna die pretty soon anyways and I feel like my outside is just catching up to my inside so fuck it

To love a ghost trapped behind a gated core-
Is to love a hollow shell and expect nothing more.

Framework narrowing, crumbling, and cracking
While loose leaf lullabies fable my lacking.

Tiresome symphony's play my heart's theme
While love is grown slow, curated behind sheen.

Endlessly flailing for something more sturdy,
But you can't expect grace when you haven't any glory.

We fall apart, yet again, in the light of the day,
But the nighttime is when our ghosts can play.

War-torn love taints our bruised flesh,
Love you can't feel behind the cloud of regret.

To love a ghost trapped behind a gated core-
You must love that hollow shell, expecting nothing more.

allie 3d

yes I am in love.
no, he did not 'fuck' me.
no, he did not 'pressure' me.
yes, I have a bad reputation.
but I can be in love.

may or not have written this with my eyes closed.

You Can’t Get Me To Lick Your Bones If You’re Never Going To Eat My Phone

I don’t need for the reading of your head
sideways. There’s no book of your gazes in
drugs I fluff myself in front of mirrors to the heavens and become elated, transfixed; I never become ‘indisposed’

you may shift your skin in those clothes I
would never spell nor the words I would never wear across the neck
I will never throw your prose across this
lubricious pottery wheel that governs the

awesome succubus’ coffin of Publisher
Clearing House dactylic feet, I have
a licentious groove and yet I never am
wont for those syllabic toes you push into

the mouth of me. Slippery soot-covered balms of the dancers jocular knot, so I say:
See Spot Run
away from that face of your clock
the beats of your Machiavellian speech

I am understudy to none
In cahoots with only the cock of my soup
kitchen, my idyllic sous chef he takes paradise and irrumates these

suture-battered stars covered in
elementary window wish dust
to poke your fingers with kisses
and undo your shoelaces even

while you you’re weary of becoming
the flat-footed ballerina. There it is
I’ve said it. Beware beware beware beware
when taunting me in your under wares

For I eat lines rare
Petite writhings of flair


& when you told me
to go fuck myself-
i went
& fucked myself
better than you.

Hasani 7d

I am in the Apple store,
first think first,
Rest in peace Steve Jobs,
and thanks for coming out Tim Cook.

I find myself in an unfortunate scenario,
I, an accountant by trade,
is finding that I hate
the mundane nature of the field.

But I love money,
and I love bitches,
so what should I do?

Should I quit my job and go back to school?
And get an M.F.A in creative writing?
would that choice make me out to be a fool?

why am I writing in rhyme?

Well anyway,
I will think about it for the rest of the weekend.
Maybe then an answer will come to me.

Shit post.

pretty boy with his
hands around my
throat, if evil is an
color me in
and name me
'angel' or 'sweet

i'll respond to all three
pretty boy takes his
atlas hands to wrap
me in a hug just as
i start to scream
for more.

angel sweet heart
don't touch me again
only pretty boy can
see me here

i'm bathing in it.

uh well. it is what it is. i'm in an awful mood and really overwhelmed. i'm sick of this fucking crazy cult-like people telling me they can cure my mental illness with prayer, i'm so tired of my mom telling me i'm going to hell, i'm barely living. i'm looking into inpatient programs for bpd and seeing what my insurance covers but yeah if i disappear for a week or two it's bc i need to work myself out and get better and hopefully that happens soon.
Poetic T Jan 13

I'm mute to the content
of others misgivings
            of my silent ego..

Clambering upon my
             every concern,
  yet I'm deaf to their every syllable.

But in reality I don't give a flying fuck...

Alyalyna Jan 11

I’d love to pour out all of my anger
Tell the whole world who you’ve been dating lately
Tell the whole world who you’ve been cheating on baby
In what filthy things you’ve been participating
Should I remind you I embraced you daily
And now you’re acting shady
And kind of shocking and maybe
I intercourse with a wrong person
But I was
Completely into our friendship
Indeed, I loved you
You said I ruined it
I say you ruined me
I helped you out a thousand times
Now will you help me out of all this shit
Who’s now a piece of crap
Who’s now to blame
Why didn’t you tell everything?
You’re struggling now for your fame
That’s why you’re so late
With all your blames
And when your so called diva moment comes down
You’re gonna understand how much you were wrong

chloe fleming Jan 10

Maybe we're growing up and I have yet to realize-
That peanut butter and jelly sandwiches won't be your favorite food forever and that sometimes whiskey tastes better than a lemonade.
But I will still love
As madly and as carelessly
As blowing dandelions into the summer breeze,
while exchanging kisses beneath the hot sun.

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