Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Guden 5d
A tiny breeze
Cleans the stagnant air
Around my bedroom.
I thank the gods
Nobody comes closer to me,
So they cannot smell
The stench of *****,
Unwashed masses of hair.
A breeze that brings
The smell of tear gas,
I sense the protesters
Didn’t want to leave.
Now the smell
Of live death
Fades away
Mixed with scents
Of freedom and dignity.
I wish I was there
I used to be clean,
I used to move around,
When routines kept me going
Instead of being petrified
By the following day;
I used to be useful
Or so I’ve heard.
Decra Kerubo Jun 27
He held my hand,
Whispers moved
"no more time left "
That was a heartbeat
I escaped

Momma hugged me
She kissed my forehead
"no more men out there "
I turned on the radio,
My own voice sounded
"you are no more"

And I dance with the tune,
Nothing more,
I gat no place here
No more
Planejane2 May 19
I can’t be another ***** falling to the same old trap...
Sitting in some ******* because I love yo ***?
Nah, this **** hurt but I’m done with that
On your part, on my part we don’t need to be involved in that.

How you give yourself physically and say it ain’t like that
But you praying with her, spiritually, how you doing that?
You out her ******* and ******* and you spending cash
On a baby, **** is crazy, hope you happy with her ***.

Siting in my face, got me thinking that
Im the one that’s doing wrong. Got me feeling sad
For your *** cuz you tricking me to think like that
Male manipulation, scary, beware cuz you’ll  end up going out sad

Praying for a sign, yea I got that
Ball is in your court, ima go and take it right back
Yea it hurt to leave, but it’s gone be more bad, tragic, Star-crossed accident, if I stay cause I will **** yo ***.
At cold and foggy morning, I'll go to outside for conversation.
Oh, what I see on the grass, that right is Condensation.
Matterhorn Apr 17
The subtle whishing
Of flowing gasoline
Sets the mood;
An ****, teal-colored,
German-engineered insect
Rolls up to the pump
Alongside mine.
I note the empty car seat
Cramped in the back
As she steps out,
Her balayage-curls swishing
As she flashes me
A cursory,
Carefree smile.
Grinning stupidly back,
My eyes gloss over;
Déjà vu grips me and
I search my memory
For her face—

The insect scuttles off;
My tank is full.
© Ethan M. Pfahning 2019
Jos Apr 2
the gasses in me bubble
my head cloudy
blood boiling
i'm not real
but i'm in real trouble
Desire Mar 3
You need some gas in the tank
in order to get to the gas station...
Sometimes you have to burn fuel to get more fuel... Just don't burn through it all
before refilling, and don't refill
without using some... You dont want to
burn out empty or blow up and explode...
Dont worry about speed, as its limits vary,
but finding balance over the
bumpy roads of life - the ups and downs -
thats where the best moments are made.
The bumps, holes, and uneven streets
are part of the route to your destination, racetrack, and life journey...
So if all you have
is a little bit of gas, just above the "E,"
its all you need to get from Point A to Point B.
(even flat tires are temporary)
(you dont need a license to live)
(yes, I dragged this)
(catch my drift?)
(just drive)
blushing prince Dec 2018
the girl with the cupid's bow lips whispering into your ear that forever is in the drink that you weigh on the heaviness of your palm when you feel nervous and you think no one can notice
but i notice
don't look back or you'll trip into the things you were supposed to be falling in love with
tell me to rely on blind faith and i'll make sure to keep my eyes open during your family's prayer circle during Christmas
i want to open all the fruits you accidentally let rot in your kitchen with my bare hands and tell you that things die so there's something to feel afterwards
i wish i could explain myself in the same way a hand that twitches might also tremble and the reason is never very important
i want to package all the poems and give them to you as forgiveness
as an apology on too many amphetamines
like the ones we took one night and ended up at a desolate gas station and feeling that in that moment
all time was spinning in a wheel waiting for me to reach out and disrupt the movement going on since i could speak
but i was too distracted on all the candied wrappers with my name written on them
so i spoke too soon and the cigarettes fell out of my purse and you said that life was in all the lines in our skin like that of a tree
Next page