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Viseract May 2016
Got Hollywood Undead just stuck in my head
Playing on repeat, the words I dread
"Pull up my sleeve and see the pattern of my cuts!"
Just playing over and over, my brain is fcked

I used to wonder how good scars look
On the front page of this self-serving book
But now I know better, they just show weakness
Sometimes I look in the mirror and ask why I did this

It was because I felt the need
Suffering at the hands of my own greed
A red line drawn, a stinging pain
And a smile on my face again

But scars aren't all good, I mean they all have a story
How would you tell your friends, that you were falling
F
ck that, how would you tell your kids?
"I was messed up and that's why I did this?"

"I thought a scar would look good, but I became obsessed
With the idea that my wrist should be dressed
All up in red, my own pretty doll
A dimple on the cheek and a blade that stole?"

I don't think so

I had become obsessed, with the idea
That to cut myself was no sign of fear
So I did it when I was angry, when I was sad
Yeah that's right I did it when I was mad

Usually at myself, but sometimes at others
Made myself believe they'd go running to their mothers
After I'd finished with them, knuckles cracking
And a grimace as my flesh opened to cutting

Sometimes I'd be sad, so sad and depressed
Stuck in old habits or just down and messed
Either way, it was my way, my only way out
Turning to the razor when in any doubt

But I got ugly scars, on my torso and shoulder
On my leg, on my arm and places older
I can't remember them all, there's just too many
And I regret them all, and'll stay till I'm twenty

And some for longer
Although I certainly hope not
For these scars, these scars so horrible
Caused by a kid who in anger got lost
Trevor Blevins Mar 2016
Your Marilyn Monroe face is coating me in nostalgia.

There's old school Hollywood appeal about you that's keeping me still and set in my ways, because how could I be mobile looking at the iconic images of you?

For you gave me refuge from my purgatory, I'm stuck here in my bedroom, your scenes each carefully curated by Billy Wilder or God...

I've heard you're a dying breed but you're so full of life and charisma.

Oh, I know it's hopeless,
But it's been remastered time and again,
1080p being the latest format to get my heart racing,
Letting your DVD spin to the point of exhaustion.

It's very consequential and I'm still betting on this,
I can't take your word as gospel when I feel you in my ribs...

I'm painfully asthmatic and respiring on your sighs.
Em Feb 2016
It's 12:03am on a Tuesday morning
And all I can think about
Is what it would be like,
If I were Marilyn Monroe,
And you were JFK.
If we were closeted lovers,
Or one-time pleasure seekers.
If you were a *******;
If I were a *** symbol.
If we could be anything more than
Friends.
Acquaintances.
Strangers...
It's 12:07am and you're probably sleeping,
Arms wrapped around your Jackie O.
And I know I keep saying
I don't need you,
But this ceiling fan is ****** company,
And ****, do I want you.
What makes you so ******* attractive to me?
mark john junor Feb 2016
starlet of the silver screen
crafted herself to display the power of her beauty
and practiced in the art of visual seductions
she desires to be intoxicating
to move men to noble heights without saying a word
to ****** the hearts of men with just a smile
to be center stage in the brilliant light of adulation
her craft allows her to be anyone she wants
princess or pauper
a master of her craft she is every man's dream
she is true beauty
at the height of her career
a hollywood starlet
an american goddess
the love affair daydream of every fanboy
i look into those velvet eyes
and see all that ever could have been
all things ever desired
she's a starlet of the silver screen
woman boldly striking a seductive pose
assured and strong
true beauty
american goddess
Brent Kincaid Aug 2015
It was the Saturday before Halloween
And my friends were having a blowout.
For the first time in a long time I chose
To make an exception and go on out
Dressed up for the occasion that night
As Moses without the tablets, a mask,
And when I got there, nobody groaned
Instead, I got offered a hit on a flask.

So, I arrived at the party, not hopeful
That a good time would be had by all.
I wore my silly old man mask at first
And my long gold robe to cover it all.
No biggie, everyone was dressed up
In outrageous, fantasy forms of attire
There were princesses and knights.
I called one crowned fellow sire.

My friends were doing a wine tasting
In connection with the happy affair
So, I took them up on all of that
After doffing my mask full of long hair.
We joked and told each other tales
Of our activities at work and home.
Later, I found myself kissing with
A hot to trot, **** garden gnome.

Then my oldest buddy Dan said,
“Let’s take this to the Boulevard.
It was just five blocks to the south
So the walk won’t be that hard.”
Seeing the adventure in this
Nobody disagreed even a little
We took off in a clump of twenty
With me masked, close to the middle.

First was our friend, Allan the artist.
He’d constructed a seven foot ****.
He wore black pants and shoes
But the papier mache did the trick.
Second was the Darth Vader guy,
A lawyer in a fine rented outfit.
Behind him was Doctor Ucia Sickie
In scrub greens with ****** clots on it.

There was Raggedy Anne and Goofy
And a couple of Midnight Cowboys
And Dan was dressed quite normally
Because he was the outing’s decoy.
See, most of us were a bit drunk, and
Nobody had any dope on them then
As it was a touchy time about ***
In the days of Reagan, way back when.

Daniel didn’t care. Without telling a soul
He had whipped up Toklas brownies
And passed them to us, getting us ripped
Completely unknown to most of the townies.
Dan raised great window-box stuff, so I
Remembered, in two bites, from times before,
And soon I got that happy, toasty feeling
And my shyness was suddenly no more.

Of we went, twenty fools wide then
Wandering down the Avenue of Stars
Goggling at the crowd, the costumes,
The zinging lights and the hopping cars.
Everyone had beer bottles, not just us
Or wine bottles and were guzzling glad
About this happy, jam packed occasion
There was no way to be bored or sad.

The cholos were dancing their hydraulics
On cars that cost more than some homes,
And the sidewalks were all overflowing
With humans thick as laundry foam.
It wasn’t really walking, it was standing up
And letting the tide of people carry me
In a Mardi Gras atmosphere of loopy fun
That offered up nothing to worry me.

We went all the way to Fairfax, then we
Turned around and made our way back
A knotted mass of silly people gabbing
Like hamsters running on an invisible track.
Halfway down, at about Hudson street,
In front of me I heard something loud.
People were screaming with laughter
And gathered in an even tighter crowd.

The middle of a circle, with TV cameras,
Was Allan, the seven foot ****, corralling
A six foot, totally authentic Miss Piggy
And she was fending him off giggling.
He kept putting the huge head of his guise
Down toward her thighs, and the crowd
Applauded, hooted, whistled and laughed
And it seemed the Boulevard just howled.

It was on the news the next morning
As we all were sure it would have to be
But that night became a noteworthy one
For all of my friends, strangers and me.
You never know what will happen to you
When you let yourself be a bit more free.
You might end up in a Halloween Parade.
Well. At least that’s what happened to me.
Ryan Unger Jun 2015
I knew a girl named Holly Wood who was unfaithful to the core,
And a drug addict always looking for new pills to score.
Her makeup was always smeared and she was way too thin,
And she had too much plastic surgery done to all her skin.

She’d come knocking on my door almost every day,
And she always had the same old pathetic thing to say:

“If you come with me I’ll make you famous, I’m the best around,
We’ll make tons of money and I promise you’ll be the happiest guy in town.
Just take my hand and trust in me, don’t you want this wealth?
Fancy cars, and pretty women, it’ll be good for your health.”

Holly Wood was full of lies, she never said anything true,
When it came to attention there wasn’t a thing Holly Wood wouldn’t do.
She sacrificed all her values for any chance at fame,
But had no idea all these actions were tarnishing her name.

She was chewed up and spit out by all of those around her,
She had nobody in her life that was kind enough to ground her.
She let drugs take hold of her and could no longer could find work,
She was forced to settle for a low paying job as a boring front desk clerk.

A week later she overdosed on pills in an old motel,
Her glamorous life had slipped away, and it was time for her farewell.
None of her “friends” cared at all, they’d find the next big thing,
And fill them all with false promises dangled on a string.

I knew a girl named Holly Wood, whose search for fame was her demise,
But knowing how she lived her life it’s really no surprise.
you will yourself into existence
but with every blink of the audience
you disappear
and fade into unseen hurt and despair
your mascara is waterproof
but the tears are real
don't have to pretend
privacy is a recent illusion
now that your name sparkles like champagne
they call you a match made in heaven
but your heaven is a hell made of matches
and moments you stumble are never yours alone
never yours to keep
fickle and written in pixels
your reality is but a fairytale
always ends in loneliness and paralyzing pain
never pretty
and at the flick of a switch
your undying love is unborn
your greatest achievements once again torn
blind money only leads the famous to be poor
and at the end of fruits of labor
stands a firing-squad with imperfect aim
another limb is torn from your once perfect flesh
they could never lend ears to your scarecrow screams
and within moments written as you blink and flash your lashes
you secretly long for the mercy of a ****-shot
maybe through the brainpan
or maybe through the heart
but all that rings out in your diamond decorated ears
are the silent memories of fake explosions
and the echoes of senseless regret
and in the quiet of night
your nightmares paint you atop a throne of broken dreams
beneath a fickle crown forged from your own porcelain skin
see they scraped it off your back when they clipped your wings
and now that their spite fills your veins like poison
it's a fight to the death
poison against poison
the fountain of youth knows no kindness
so you lash out and turn to the promise of a needle
a momentary stab at eternity
and from your fake flat-lining face
springs a fairytale to remember for the ages:
pass over my grave and know this
not eight feet below lies in wait
a smile so eternal
or a frown
depending which way you're facing
but it's mine now
forever
and never again yours
to take.
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
Trundling through the loud clouds
that barrage me with thunder.

Pausing to smile at the lightning
shuttering from the red-carpet-crowds.

Tripping on the crimson rug
as they capture my blunder.

And smiling fake feelings,
whilst thinking of you.

You, with your unrequited
commitment to critters.
You, with your dedication
to the unknown.

******* and only you.
That's all I really wanna do.
<4


.
Slay the dragon,
Defend your honor.

Take down the mob,
Restore justice.

Win the fight,
Steal your heart.

Crack ninety minutes worth of jokes,
Break up.

Get back together,
Live happily ever after.

Solve the case,
Lock up ****** killer.

Diagnose patient,
Save your life.
Thank me later.

Jump through wormhole,
Save humanity.
You're welcome.

Phone rings,
Interrupts Epic Tuesday.

I smile,
Hearing your voice.

And just like that,
My life is no longer on pause.
Dedicated to the voices that bring us back to reality when we need it the most.
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