ilsa 11h

I am here and I am gone.
Sometimes I come in strongly,
sometimes I am nothing more than a whisper.
You see, my life is like a little red radio.
Shifting, yes. Evolving, no.

Stating my momentary pleasures in a hot seat,
moving with a quiet current of low mumbles.
There are numbered stations for my feelings,
controlled by that little red-silver tune dial
that chooses a separate mood for every moment.

Moreover, the volume dial,
telling me when to keep my mouth shut,
to be static in the air that the atmosphere rejects.
and sometimes, making me feel the stations
through a door slam or a "fuck you."

See, my life is like a little red radio,
always caught in between two stations.

I apoligize for how terribly depressing this is. I'm going through some things

I wish he would know
I wish he could see
I wish he saw
I wish he saw me like i see him
I wish I’d let him know
I wish I’d be brave, and if I was,
I wish I don't wreck it all.
I wish when I enter his smile would grow.
I wish he couldn't control it, like me
I wish he greeted me with a hug
I wish he said goodby with a kiss
I wish he knows the pain bare for him
I wish he could end it.
Before it ends me

I know the ridges of your body
down to the way your lashes
kiss your cheeks

I know the sweet taste of your skin
and memorized the sighs that
escaped your lips

I know the awe of a sunrise
and that they'll never compare to
the mornings when you first open your eyes

I know the rumble of your voice
when you reminded me
"I love you and it's an inevitable choice."

What I don't know
is how to run in the rain without
drowning in your kiss

How to curl in someone's arms
and forget your warmth isn't his

How to slip my fingers in another hand
and overlook how the spaces don't fit

I know so many things
about your soul and smile

but will I ever know
how to live without it?

(M.S.)

Utter control
I call myself God
Flint and stone my middle finger and thumb
The wood that is consequence
Come alive by the flame from my fingers and my nod
I call myself God

Fucking around

I am drunk, excuse how blatant I am about everything right now.
I miss you because I thInk I am falling in love with you, and since you will never see this I am going to pour everything out.
I Love how difficult you are. I genuinely love that it isn't easy with you, whether it be on what we are having for dinner or if I'm trying to get your clothes off- everything takes time. I lOve it. I hold every second of you close, especially now.
I loVe your smile, I love when you try and hide it. I lovE how easy it is to shock you and how easy it is to make You blush. Well- nOt physically blUsh because you're half black and your skin doesn't really turn red, but I can tell. and I fucking love it.
I love how hArd of a worker you are, it iNspires me to be the same, I love how much you love your family even though sometimes I think it isn't deserved. I love that I hAven't even told you how undeserved it is because I know you love them so much, so much that it's pure, and I don't want to ruin something so crystal clear.
How do I say any of this to you? I don't, you asked for space. I texted you and told you I missed you a few minutes ago and I don't regret it. That's fine, I might in the morning, I'm gonna go take a few more shots so it probably won't matter. I'm only drinking because I don't know if I will wake up if I don't, and I have to be up early. My new job has ruined my sleep schedule. Oh yeah-
If we end, I will be fine. I'm still whole, still a complete person, but fuck I will miss you.
I'll miss your voice, your smell, your obsession with sunglasses and your inability to talk about how you feel. I'll miss every part of you. Even the shit parts.

I love you, Ana. I've never said it and it will take me a long time too (if I get the chance), but I do. I love you and I think I might love every part of you.

I need more tequila. I miss you.

Fuck me, genuinely someone come stab me why am I in this spot ????
Wyatt R 3d

I feel like I can't be honest anymore.
I feel like I have to hide
the rest of me away.
I feel like there's no point in trying
because I always come up too short.
I feel like I'd be lying
if I said I gave it all my effort.
I feel like it'd be a disappointment
to show these words to anyone outside.
I feel like I should shut in
and love the end when it comes.
Slowly fade away
with a miserable look on my face,
I feel like it's the only way I can go.
Feed the flames until it requires more.
The cost of sin is my life,
so why delay the consequence?
Why take the time to vent
to people who have no idea who I am?
Why take the time to put myself
out there if I'm just taking up space?
It's hard to vibe with you
when I'm swimming in hate for myself.
The times have gotten worse.
Me, myself and I
is becoming not good enough.
The crazy outweighs
the brief calm that comes
after the worst comes back on me again.
I feel like the time I've got
is counting down
and I have nothing to show for it.
I feel like I'm stuck
in a rut dug too deep.

When I think of you too much,
my eyes lull
my ears drop off
my mouth becomes a field
of cotton,
never ripened enough
to pick from.
Everyday tasks grow fercious
with their complexities,
even the necessaries
I've come to
ache for
such as drinking, 
eating and sleeping
are shot up 
a giant's leg of a stalk,
and you know 
I can't climb that high up, my love.
So I sit, in a daze 
and stare 
at the world growing grey,
all because 
your shadow
has not crossed over it yet,
your lips 
have not spoken enough
for me to draw out
their
        every 
                  ridge,
your words have yet
to tangle themselves tightly
around my tongue,
so that I find 
it 
harder
to breathe
(atthebackofmythroat)
when you are not here,
but have no air left in me
when you are.

As a lot of injustice is what I get,
What I should better get is lost.
I should get lost under this cover,
This glorious cover of anonymity.
Let nobody read my thoughts,
For leglimency I've occlumency.

My HP Poem #1516
©Atul Kaushal
Pete King 4d

I’m ten-thousand things,
And I’m ten thousand people,
And they’re all completely insane.

You’re ten-thousand things,
And you’re ten-thousand people;
And I love every one just the same.

A short one. I'll probably expand on it at a later date, but it'll do for now. :)
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