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Tap Head May 2017
I live in a tin *** house
with clatter and clutter
and not an ounce of living space
my tin *** house is sad and sorry place.

Junk piled on furniture
and muck on the walls,
my tin *** house doesn’t get
many visitors at all.

The fence is falling down,  
the flowers dying in the heat.  
My tin *** house is such a mess,  
a tip could not compete.

The spider’s webs’
are the only thing that grows
and from the taps,
it's only cold water that flows.  

So yes, my tin *** house
is a sad and sorry place
and my tin *** family
is in a sad and sorry state.
raingirlpoet Mar 2017
i don't believe you know you're destined for great things
you
mishappen collection of supposedly broken parts
souls of shards and borrowed hearts
you
do not fly away so easily

junk angel
don't you know
you are not damaged nor irreparably dismantled
underneath your suit of armour
there you are
beautiful and breathing
you are alive

junk angel
remember your origins
and look at how far you've come
-
-z.z
Zero Nine Mar 2017
Used to be frail, and pale, weak inside now
the darkened leather of skin has done much
more than save my life.
It's consumed.
Dark steel armor has worn, formed rusted spikes
that slowly push to impale with blunted
and poisonous points.
I've inhaled
After one long, deep and drawn out sigh in
to twilight's heels, it feels as though it kills
to survive the night.

. . .

To survive tonight
Welcome to the party
Trash can lights light, illuminate
To survive tonight
Free junk and dry cardboard
Beckon, calling out names
That sound like yours
I had a lot of fun with this one.

I've lived in the area surrounding Portland nearly my entire life, and over time, I've realized its appeal is that it's just a big pile of junk. I can't help but think cardboard meets clean steel, skirts/suits meet black duster jacket and ****** crew.

Who the hell finds that appealing? I guess I do. I haven't wanted to leave yet. It does something to your insides, though. Literally and figuratively. I like being a rat.
Zero Nine Mar 2017
I play Magic: The Gathering.
I play video games.
I do both as a means of break in mundanity.
I suppose the way a person reads,
The way a person watches a movie.
Stories within stories in words and then
More stories within pictures
The picture part is great because I can't draw.
I mean I can't write code or balance over
Twenty years of game mechanics but words,
I've got words. I've got the best words.
I smoke **** and I have a lot of weird fetishes
I don't know why. To both of those things.
I have no idea. **** makes me paranoid and sleepy.
It does other things, too, but I can't describe it well.
I can't describe it clearly.  I like drinking ***,
But I've never peed on someone else, so I don't
Know if I'm down with that. I'll have *** with anyone,
But disclaimer, I won't have *** with just anyone,
If you catch my drift. *****, ******, whatever, doesn't
Matter but I prefer my fellow queer, or queer minded,
You ******* sickos. I just like getting my mouth on things.
Someone well learned in human sexuality might be
Able to shed some light on that.
I chain smoke and I neglect myself.
And I do both because I am one depressed, self loathing
****** with a half hearted death wish or some ****.
I cling really tightly to naivety, but not because I want
It enough to have it around all the time.
I'd say it's only so I don't go down that road again
And self destruct. Figure that one out.
Clearly autobiographical
As opposed to abstractly autobiographical
Druzzayne Rika Mar 2017
I have some junk inside my brain
I want to throw them away in the drain
But they somehow come up again
And make me feel vain
I am helpless because I have no restrain
It makes me feel that I might go insane
I'd rather prefer being mundane
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