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lucid Aug 31
Fairytales and picture books
Don't tell the whole truth.
Sometimes,
Toads are just toads.
They don't always become your prince
After you kiss them.

It's a funny idea, really -
The notion of finding love
In a murky pond.
Lonely bogs have lonely frogs,
I suppose.
Did you have any doubts
As you traced the surface of the water
With a fingertip?
When you took him in your palms,
Did you not have second thoughts?

It takes a mental blindfold,
Opaque enough to block out reason,
To hold a toad so dear.
He might be charming at first,
If for nothing else than for the idea
Of what the two of you could be.
But soon enough,
The emptiness will settle in.
He won't call you pretty,
Or hold you close.
He'll leave a little trail of slime
Wherever he goes.


And at the end of the day,
I'm left wondering...
Why the **** did I kiss a toad?
Filomena Aug 5
Irritable bowels.
I'm dressed in only towels.

As my face is scanned,
I have a better hand.

A compliment is hushed.
I guess I'm straight flushed.
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 31.
Clay Face Oct 2021
I’m nothing coming through.
A ******, a let down.
I’m a plan turned mistake.
I slipped out into a world to be forgotten in it.
Cold, slimy, smelly, and stupid.

I’m the putty they use to fill the gaps of history.
The time between now and when.
A time where something, anything happens.
Walk on me, I’m here to move you on.

It feels as though we’re nearing the end.
Centuries before, fate was branded.
In its burned flesh we made our mark.
It’s come time to slaughter.
But we’ll be the squealers.

I’m coming through into nothing.
A mother abused by her young.
******* dry and sagged from their greed.
Fat, weak, and stupid now from gluttony.
Next winter will bring their snuffing.

So pull me out.
This pink portal.
Into somewhere I belong.
The nowhere we are right now.
The nothing we’re going to be.
Spicy Digits Feb 2020
Itch those *****, player
Itch them red raw
Bleeding?, who cares!
Embrace your oozy pores
Itchy itchy morning rise
Scratchy scratchy nights
Give me a show I'd like to forget
Make me close up tight
Itch those *****, giant manchild
Itch them to completion
Whatever you got to do, do
During itchy and scratchy season
mars Jul 2021
i leave behind residue in beds
i am grimy and saturated from dirt
my muddy footsteps follow you into the bathroom and i smudge the mirror with my fingers, crusted and cracked from the heat

i follow the shadow of the sun and trail their streaks of death
it drips down my thighs and stains your carpets
i am vermin i am disease i am death and decay
my stench sullies the walls and my greasy hair sours your stomach
you pinch your nose as i pass by and i cannot find it in me to blame you. i would too.
i feel so gross
Brett Jun 2021
Insects have invaded the safe haven
Of my home
Wood warped from an endless squall
They slink through the cracks
Crawling on the walls
Product of neglect
and,
A refusal to suture open wounds
I spray and Raid them away,
like
The Nuclear Option ever solved a problem
I train my gaze to look the other way
See, sunken minds can forget for days
but,
When I sit and stare
I see them polka dotted everywhere
Skeeving, dry heaving and pulling out my hair
Cold sweats as I am combing through my bed
The critters have crept and nested
Deep inside my head
All my worrisome thoughts
Have kept the insects fed
Nature provides endless insights into life
Gee
I’d forgotten
Or discovered

Your eyes like faded denim
The smile you’d try to hide
The way you like to tease me
Can’t make you laugh although I try

Like laying in fields of lilac,
tour Tassie attached to my hip.
I rang you like religion
Just to tell you about the trip

there are hard days, they are long ones
I bare just to hear your voice
When my head is filled with static
You’re cutting out the noise

Laying in a dingy tent,
staring at the Milky Way
You told me how you felt for them
the honesty cast fears away

We went to two different festivals
one day after the next
It felt like we were both there
But watching different sets

To wake up to you in winter
Samson whines me back to sleep
The mattress is barren without you both
But The bed’s too warm too leave

You send your love in lettered form
Like medicine in mail
and though the sentiment is old
I found relevance today

Sometimes I fret that you don’t care
How foolish and ambivalent
Sometimes I need reminders of
why I loved you to begin with
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