~A grimy, grimace of a grungy summer day~

Good Morning!


let the un-fun sting,
as the ardor never begins,
forecast a grimy grimace of a lousy
day ahead, at best, a clouded mess,
just to differentiate between bereaved
periods of rain, that train you in windows~
avoidance, for a grunge gloomy invades
all six senses (including the brain)
where all are concatenated),
and you can actually feel
the pallor descending
from brow to the bow
of your container,
feet swelling,

and you
in addition
to avoiding windows,
put some towels out over
all the mirrors, lest your pallor,
ah,

too late,
the grim grimace of grunted day
arrived even before the poem
was conceived, I deceived,
once more, the bore drill
drives a tubular of
despondency into
my spinal seam

Whether Weather Wither Whine Wailing
*****-Nilly  Wade  Why Why Writer

Why, Writer?

Cries ring out around the room.
Beg me once more. I will not stoop.
The shelter is crumbling. Walls turning pink.
Windows fogging up, the gas has leaked.
Trembling hands reach, no satisfaction is given.
The argyle rug we live on is frayed. Rat bones
pile in the corners.

Starvation came and went.

Matted hair is stretched with the fingers.
Plucking and prodding. Dirtied face,
green as the curtains. Pressing deeper
into the walls. The next course is served.

A dead dream, warts, rotted meat.

The others fight for the meat. I rip a
piece of the dream. Bring a finger
to the lips and shush. The dream stops
screaming. Blue skies and honeyed words
capture. Fading into the carpet, resting
my head on the bones. A scratch strikes
the entrance. Silence. Screech. Hiss.
Silence. We open the door, then close it.

It is not an exit after all.

The girl to my left, blinks at me.
I tell her no, not yet. I will wait
for the exit. She blinks once more.
We just have to wait for it. Glazed
eyes meet mine. She crumbles.

The next course has been served.

******* are itches like skin conditions
forget the admissions and feelings and visions
find yourself in a position where decisions
are void, because there's no choice,
no recognition, my voice is an imposition

With no occupation, or real reason to function
I'll spend my money on medication 'til
I'm believing what I'm seeing
Something is weighing on my mind heavy,
roll up another blunt-skin,
crack open another bevy,
Something is playing with my mind lately,
just write a couple bars
Yeah, that'll tell them nothing maybe

My hopes were up, but they have come down
It's too often we carve a smile out of a frown
just to fit in
           when we were born to stand out
So as a rule tell others how you feel,
not let em figure out
Honesty's my policy, unless I think they're on to me
and now I've lied again
I better turn my life around
In a short life, I've been much, I've been proud
I've been up, I've been down,
I've been chewed and spat out
Left out in the sun, left out to dry up on the ground

But all the aspirations that I'll never meet,
can be recycled to ambition if I get back on my feet,
But all the things I was promised, that's deceit
the act or practice of deceiving,
concealment or distortion of the truth,
for the purpose of misleading, so they got me bleedin'
and everything I want, I'm not receiving
and everything I need, I know they're keeping

Just *** for me 
Release all your energy 
Just focus on now 
Feel my tong go round 
Your beautiful **** 
Feel my **** on her 
Bite your lip   
Enjoying my every touch with a purr 
 Arms wrapped around your thighs, 
This will be my demise 
Your taste I crave 
With every breath, I must chase 
The idea away 
Of having you stay 
With me, here 
For our futures, they fear 
We are addicted in fact  
To each other, not the act 
A bonus to our presents 
Is knowing each others talents 
They fear, we will stay near 
To our roots, but we know we must go 
To the unknown 
The world beckons 
To go far and wide, we must learn lessons 
This area cannot offer 
 So we must go 
What will the journey behold?  
Will I find you again? 
Or will you find another man? 
I hope he’s cool calm and collected  
Can support you with through everything 
Treats you right 
 Not just at night 
but also in the day light.

Who want's a love poem?
A thing about some guy and some girl
and how something's just so **** blissful
or just so **** sad and dramatic?

***** that.
How about we find something we can swallow?
How about we forget our little cry-c's,
and take half a **** second
to
to
to write a **** love poem...