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Neon Beaches May 2018
When rain falls and the skies are marked with grey
When the real world seems ‘o so far away
I reminisce about old days
the things I used to love
And the things I used to do
When I remember how I used to blaze
Blaze, Even brighter than the sun
I simply sit back
and let my eyes glaze over with sorrow
Because I know that soon
I’ll have to face tomorrow
Hollow Steve May 2018
Classy child performing his seance,
grasping whatever he can.
Not like he craves anything.
He prefers non eyes.
I call him, It.
Crazy and belligerent.
It deems to make so some changes..
Just tentacles spilling all around.
No worry.
Another sip took,
another note noted
It slips and slides and ends....
At some point.
Nevermind,
It was idiotic to begin with.
I shouldn't ever have even started..
But composure pushes me otherwise.
Poking it's eyes.
It's been a while.
Do you even see where you're going?
Not the drinkers,
only the clown..
Only the mime..
It
Hollow Steve May 2018
It claims its victims,
one bite at a time.
Puncturing their veins,
******* out their inspirations.

They're dead,
and wondering the streets,
in search of things
long forgotten.

It's as plain as day,
as grey as old age.
It's an age old philosophy,
never to decay.

It prevails,
but nothing truly changes.
It stands tall,
but only handfuls see it.

Holding onto nothing,
life is suffering.
So it has been,
so it always will be.

If chosen to change
the landscape of an eon,
then eternity is nothing
but a miniscule point.

I am nothing...
So it has been,
so it always will be.
Devin Lawrence May 2018
Stuck in a flat-line
With nothing but a heartbeat to keep me going.
Disgust.
Regret.
But I can't stop looking in the mirror.

The grey looms over the horizon;
what a treacherous fantasy
to chase the stars.
The music doesn't sound the same
and this dingy road continues on and on.

That plateau fading from view
seems to call to me,
begging me to reminisce
and accept that the view may never get any better.

Stuck in a flat-line
but my heart isn't in it anymore.
A labor of love becomes an ordinary labor
once the passion slips away.
Bobcat May 2018
I don't like my brain today.
It's bringing me down,
In more than one way.
It doesn't really matter
What anyone will say.

I really don't know why,
I always feel this way.
When it starts to get cold,
And the sky turns grey.

I don't want to be here today.
I tell my co-worker,
As he slowly walks away.
He agrees with me,
But knows not what I say

Please beg me to stay.
I need to feel wanted,
When I feel castaway.
Even though I won't listen,
Please tell me anyway.

Do I need to give you a reason,
Or a list to display?
I'm not sure I have the answer,
Cause my mind won't obey.

I wish my brain would decay.
I want to smell it rot,
In my bed I will lay.
Until I try to speak,
And no words will relay.

What else can I say?
Nothing really new I guess,
I don't wanna burden you today.
I'll shut my mouth now,
And just pretend I'm okay.
A May 2018
Red is a sunset,
Warming the summer air.
It is fighting at all hours,
Spilled liquid on the ground.

Red is poppies spreading across a field,
Petals soft as a hand strokes them.

Orange is a leaf falling to the ground,
Pumpkins sitting on porches,
Children laughing, saying
Trick or Treat!

Orange is baking pies for a holiday,
And saying thank you when it's needed.

Yellow is the sun beating down,
Browning backs and helping growth,
Bouncy ***** in coin machines,
Highlighters marking up a page.

Yellow is sunflowers,
And a bow in a child's hair.

Green is leaves dappled with sunlight,
Smelling cut grass in the early morning,
Apples tossed into the air,
Grasshoppers jumping when a shadow passes.

Green is the ding as the cashier hands change,
Receipts rolling out, tearable paper.

Blue is a thunderous wave,
Crashing against a pale shore,
Wearing at stone and land,
Seeping through the cracks.

Blue is a pen signing a piece of parchment,  
A snowflake touching an uncovered nose.

Purple is amethyst in a crown,  
The rustle of a cape against the floor,  
A gilded throne in a stone room,  
Jewels weighing down a smooth collarbone.  

Purple is a rosary clasped in fingers,  
An old's man's words as they touch the air and fall.  

Black is eyes that come from fiery depths,  
An aristocrat's smile,  
Empty rooms of an abandoned home,  
Tears falling on a wooden floor.  

Black is a scythe held in skeletal fingers,  
A scepter held beside a throne.

Grey is pressing keys and forming words,  
Clouds coming in from a dark sky,  
A belt worn in a triangle,  
Eyes that hold only one emotion.  

Grey is a pencil's lead snapping on paper,  
Drawn rain with no umbrella.
This is essentially what I'd say if someone asked me to describe colors.
Sarah Mann May 2018
The grey coated ashy sky screams that we should in fact be inside. 
But instead I’m rushing across a lawn in black, breaking flats.
With my heart in my chest, and my hands shaking from the rest.
I’m not prepared for what’s to come, for the repentance,
That will be taken, as we lie here hidden away from the sun.
The fluorescent lights are stinging away the outer layers of my eyes.
I can feel my confidence drastically shrinking in size.
All that are in favor stand up, a man in a blue button up calls out
I don’t stand. I’m scared, I don’t want to be the first one to lose
You’re unaware of the magnitude
Of your actions, as you rise.
Thereby sparing me and cursing those that I despise.

I fell in love with your appearance almost instantly.
With the softly curled hair that so gracefully
Rested above your eyes.
I had known you for a matter of minutes
And there it was I was in love.
It was a strange moment in time,
Where your eyes turned around to look into mine.
I felt a connection, immediately, without even a second thought.
Who was this impulsive romantic?
And what had she done with the particularly critical
Normal version of myself? Where had she gone?
My failures have never been so prominent as I’m sitting there
Wasting away in that old uncomfortable creaky plastic chair
I spent the time awaiting my fate,
Dangerously lost in the loose linens of your being
But I assume it’s now about eight
I don’t know exactly what my heart is feeling
I’m absentminded, free. Finally free from the
Troubles and worries of my everyday life.
As my overactive imagination overwhelms the logical side
In a landslide majority vote, I’m lost without a sense of maturity.

And so, I allow myself fall into your eyes, and slightly imperfect smile.
You were almost obnoxiously beautiful, but
With your snide offensive comments, and your homophobic sentiments,
And worse of all your willingness to sacrifice
The shortcomings of others to build yourself up
Was more than a little off-putting, and your arrogance
Was more than a little disgusting
For the image in my mind of us, to ever exist.
Darling, I wanted you to know
That is a future, I will never miss
And I truly hope to never have to see you again after this.
Written about a seemingly flawless person who revealed themselves to be instead the opposite, almost to a dangerous extent. Dodged a bullet there.
Shadow Dragon May 2018
The words I write,
come with no crime.
Tapping away,
in a field of grey.

Imagination,
temptation,
and the need for acceptation.

It is a meditation.
Feeling everything,
letting the words come up
as I'm puking.

The words I write,
help me survive.
Not alone,
forever be known.
Josiah Wilson May 2018
Breathe in
Breathe out
Monotone, dull, routine
Get up, dress, work

Flash a smile
Drop a laugh
Don't let anyone
Not one, see

Behind this mask I'm dead
Breathing isn't a sign of life
Not anymore
I move, I work, I talk

But it's robotic
Autopilot
Happiness, joy, fulfillment
Sadness, grief, pain

Gone
Replaced by
Grey
Laina May 2018
my life is greyscale
yours technicolor.
I pretend to like my movies black and white.


you look at me and see mountains
but under these clothes are holes

you confuse the beams for starlight

there is no starlight
not even moonlight
to complement your sunlight

just reflections of vacant spaces.

I turn the lights off so you don’t notice
that I am more nothing than something
more empty than whole.

I fake it so you stop
before you have enough time to realize
that I am just a ghost.

the breath of life is gone
wonder, awe, all of god’s little blessings
bled out of the holes.

you can try to fix me
but I evanesce faster than you
can sew me up.

I have nothing to offer you
that can be seen, felt, heard.
Touched maybe
but my soul recoils from your outstretched hand.

touch me fast
before I feel
touch me hard
before I fade away.
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