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ethan gaskill Jan 26
i walk through this thrift shop
as an old and withering man
i see the products of a lifetime
and i imagine them in my hands

that lamp would've fit nicely
on the table in our living room
and that blouse in the corner that i see
my darling, she had the same one as her
these old and worn out books
were once my constant entertainment
they inspired me to write and to travel
and now they've been banished to the wastebins

metal castings, music to listen to, movies,
denim jackets, photographs of people long since dead,
paintings and mirrors and gadgets,
hats, pants, shirts, shoes,
neckties in every color
somebody else lived their life with these
and soon i'll be giving up mine like all the others

we all spent our lives
buying things and wasting precious time
so i know that someday soon
all my things will be bought by you
life moves in waves
Jo Swan Jan 3
I’m addicted to my bad boy
like a druggie snorting on crack.
Bad boy- my succulent junk food.

Toxic love dark as chocolate black,
you do more harm than good.
This attraction is not healthy.

There is a strange dopamine hit,
though I’m discarded like a used toy-
I chase the thrill for him to commit.

Abusive and brazenly rude,
smugness as fat as greasy cheese,
his hurtful bites leave me hungry.

Shame clogs in cholesterol plaque-
infecting ailing arteries;
I’m going to have a heart attack!

Bad boy, why do I crave such ******?

(c) 2019 Jo Swan
Sometimes we can be in a relationship that can be toxic. Yet we can still be drawn to this relationship that is not psychologically healthy.
Toni Lane Dec 2018
you are dangerous
even with fake memories
the hope never died



petals will drown me
in the comfort of their scent
I trust nothing else



can you hold me once?
it does not need your feelings
just let me touch you



in the dim light here
I can imagine your lips
staining all my skin



aching and waiting
we flourish only to die
that's no life for me
These kinda relate to my last relationship, sorta doesn't. It's all feely and junk, mostly desperation which is not a fun thing.
Dev Aug 2018
Treat the truth like a rubber-band.
I’ll treat a lie like super-glue.
Maybe then you’ll understand
exactly how I think of you.
Some may stretch the truth.
A Simillacrum Aug 2018
See where it gets you?
In the toilet bowl.
Open mouthed,
force fed remains,
gasping ****
instead of air,
grabbing at hair.
stop it stop it!

See where it gets you?
Wrapped up in business
never meant for
your energies,
fitting, in turn,
into crowded
papyrus.

Save me. Save you.
Save me? Save you?
Why?

Matter is finite.
I'm of it.
Build your empires.
Believe through the matter,
the
matter
of course.

I pick myself up from the floor,
and sweep back my soaking mop.
Stop?

Please.

I had a whole day
worse than tonight
just last week.

I'll enjoy my selfishness
while I can,
but thanks.
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
I quit smoking cigarettes.
Romantic ideations of death.
Thinking of the paper taste, now
brings me the same enjoyment.
Balmy, blue summer nights.
Cradled my audience of stars.
Laughing at the shape of waste,
they smile down upon me these days.
I don't know why I quit.
I don't know why I started.
Desperation. Depression.
Emulation? My grandpa, he waved
his hand with his fingers around bones,
tracing orange stories with his dead light,
of his would have been adventures
would he have had the time.

I. I.
I.

I don't have to die
soon!
I don't have to re
tire to my
tomb
to

spin
a tale.

I've been so blue.
Out of the loop
with my body
& my mind,
but,

I. I.

I still have the time.

I've been so stressed.
Forgot I could
depress the stress
button just
fine,

On my
own!

Now, when
I have ***,
I have the breath
for pleasure:

Oxygen.
George Krokos Jun 2018
If you’ve got a letterbox you’ll end up getting junk mail
which will usually be on a weekly basis and without fail.
_____
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's
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