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He lay there in a *****, unkept ball,
Having surrendered to the pavement.
Wisps of stringy brown hair
Covered the lines on his sunken in face,
His yellow smoked eyes, rheumy and blurred,
His vision hazy, like a punch-drunk boxer.

Kathleen Harmon sashayed by
With nary a glace downward.
Once they were equals,
When they sat together
During high school Chemistry.

Time slowed from a Tango to a Waltz,
As a drop of saliva
Kissed the pavement.
Stringing there from his cracked, parted lips.

His tangled brown whiskers,
Patchy on his cheeks,
Had lengthened with the passing days
Since their last meeting with a razor.

Nikes, Prada, and Gucci
Ignore him in passing
All sports, fashion, and business meetings;
On the clock, and self-absorbed.

Dusk marked the sky
With a violet crayon
Worn to a nub,
Then worn to nothing.

A sudden thud startled him awake!
Then blackened hardwood stunned him as it bit into his ribs!
A caustic voice berated his slumber,
A navy blue reminder that even surrender was no escape.
The world and its arbitrary hierarchy *****.
mjad Jul 17
Icy
he got the
Gucci flops
Supreme top
Balenciaga bag
Hermes chain
Chanel sunglasses
Louis Vuitton jacket
Rolex on his wrist
he looks A-list

but does he have a heart?
Cox Jul 7
I stand here in the city.
The tall buildings tower over me,
And the wind cascades around me.

The children and people wear fur coats.
I wear Gucci.
They smell like whiskey and cigarettes,
But I pay no attention.

I see the lights that the city visions,
I hear the cries that the city screams.

It was perfect.  

Because I was here amongst the skyscrapers,
And within the atmosphere of life.
sunshine Apr 6
pink
and Gucci
he's got his legs around mine
twisted
and kissing
I have my fingers in his hair
soft
and sunshine
we didn't tell anyone about it
secrets
and Fendi
he's never loved someone like me
chains
and that drip
I told myself I wouldn't get attached
lies
and friends
we're more complicated than we admit
a rap?
possibly
but everything is Gucci lies  


xoxo
-sunshine
Mr Quiet Feb 17
Dying romantically over a bridge,
Taking snaps on our phones as we cut our wrists,
Let's go make fun of all the suicidal kids,
Mental illness is the trend,
Let's make money out of this.

Post tweets.
Tell them about you wanting to end your life.
Click. Send.
Now lets brag about how many people retweet and like.
IG stories.
The highlights of the night,
Show them your depression.
Then delete before sunrise,
Pics of sad poems,
Then pics of memes,
#relatable, right?

We're like a sponge filled with heavy solemness,
As we sqeeze our anxieties and drink our stress,
We all use drugs to treat our mess,
But we ain't redeemed yet,
Sweet Jesus, please make the pain less.

Drink out of misery,
It all turns out fine,
The first thirty minutes will be heaven for your mind,
Enjoy what is left,
Ignore and leave your problems behind,
They'll come back for sure but atleast you had a hell of a time.

Put the chemicals in,
Snort the*******,
If you're not gonna shoot in your school,
Atleast destroy your brain.
Put the chemicals in,
Enjoy what is left of your sanity.
Crystal ****.
Amphetamine.
A minor inconvenience that leads your death into ambiguity.

Our insecurities has never been more expressed or shown,
From all the popular kids with all their Gucci clothes,
Go ahead, make money out of the things that you don't know.
Go ahead, make money out of us since we're the joke.

We are the joke.
kids don't want rifles, they want Supreme.
Oscar Oct 2018
the sun rises every morning,
blessing the earth with another day.
the moon shines at night,
watching over us as we lay at rest.

the stars give us our dreams,
despite being millions of miles away.
they shoot, we wish upon them
and they smile down at us.

heaven is above us,
but hell's fire is what fuels us.
we run on sleepless slumber and we
keep fighting with broken swords.

we breathe until we no longer can,
our lungs heaving with the hope that we will
survive another day because we're human
and we were crafted to survive.
all of my poems are sad, this one is kinda not sad
---

told my friends about how i write poetry on this site, they wanted to see but i fear they'll think i'm a bit weird.  what should i do?
oui Apr 2018
demons demons
paint my nails!
bite it off
when all else fails!

slipped into hell + ran away home
whats under your bed when you're all alone?

***** socks and
soured thoughts ~
had a garden
(let it rot)

prayed to God my man would wake
her soul and Gucci bag to take

surfing in my Prada's
running in my Louis's
Giving second chances
Like ya never even knew me

Tigers in the living room,
go on ask whats up!
clawing up my velvet couch
Kiss and patch it up!

melt my brain n lick it up
I write about him daily
chew it up and spit it out
been thinking bout you lately
Andrew T Dec 2016
Her dreams are packed suitcases,
sitting on the driveway,
a piece of cloth sticking out,
ready to be unfolded and opened,
and then carried around.
I miss her
like how Americans
will miss the Obama family.
Touching her lips with my fingertips
is like rubbing healing ointment
onto an open scab.
Mom says, “You will always regret it,
if you don’t send her a text back.”
I dump my phone into the fire,
watch the plastic and metal burn,
the embers and ash piling up.
A black hand reaches for my shoulder,
before I wake up in a cold sweat.
I open up her suitcases:
a blue Grand Canyon blanket,
a laminated receipt
from a Sushi Restaurant,
a deflated basketball,
her knockoff Gucci glasses,
a worn piece of my heart.
I touch my chest.
and I feel nothing there.

— The End —