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Astrid Ember Dec 2020
I concede,
I yield,
I cave,
I give in.
My 2 weeks put themselves
in centuries ago.

I've fallen from my self-righteous high horse;
a stallion meant only for
those full of their own capability.

For so long
I've fought more than 'tooth and nail',
more than 'blood sweat and tears'.
Fought harder than 'life or death'.

I've fought to the diminishment
of my brazen,
furious soul.

Worn my own sharp
rapturous vigor for this life
down to a dull
dull syringe.

Even the most skilled,
determined ****** couldn't
tap a main line vien
with what now remains.
Felt like this was raw as ****. So, yeah. *Whoop there it is*
Michael Luciano Dec 2020
I awoke from this dream in the rubble of my mind. Lost alone in there among the falling Sands of Time. Stricken by the knots that are tied with in my sheets. No more sickness mama please no more grief. All my screws are loose there's too much confusion. Let me fall onto myself into that dreamy illusion. I took the needle from my arm but it's still planted in my head. I've got that feeling I can't take and it's filling me with Dread. I want to slide on down where the muddy water creeps. Where the ****** river flows who's filled with sweet relief. I want to climb into my mind find Oblivion far away from the feelings of the body I live in. Take me to that place that we all want to go. Suspected fugitive lost out on that Lonesome Road. Your constant conversations have me twiddling my thumbs. She was a torturous deceiver with her hand upon my gun. The wind swelled with a gust and I woke from this dream lost all along the lonely streets looking like a fein. I stepped into a paradise searching for my mind. A gonner with a periscope see me from behind. I'm gaining on my final breath aiming for the moon. Sewing up my only close with a needle and a spoon. Drowning in the desperation brewing in my grief. Searching like a street cop lost along his beat. Awaken to the circus that same old ******* show. A sing-along of corpses hitchhiking down the road. The Badlands and sands of time it's the gritty kind of life. Batten down the hatches so to not let in the light. When dependency is slavery there is no kind of thrill. ****** ******* just a feeling kinda ill.
I was an IV ****** addict for a number of years, living in cars, tents, squats and the like. I was clean for a number of years untill this summer I caught the bug again, thankfully I've crawled back out of that cave once again. I suppose this Is an attempt to not forget. Written in prison in Pennsylvania 2016.
Harold Brinkley Jul 2020
I know this place, I remember shivering on my knees in darkness, The kind of darkness that consumes, An abyss. You promised that you wouldn't let go of my hand, you promised that if you got lost, at least we'd be lost together. You broke your promise but I hope you found peace.
Tompson Apr 2020
While soldiers hold their guns
Shooting people to survive

at the same time...

Kids hold their needles
Shooting up in the last vein they can find

Some pray to live
Others pray to die

Shots of death echoing
Through the night.
Tompson Jun 2020
We’re ****** in the chains of the past
Walking souls trying to find the way back
Stuck there
In this vivid dream
In this cycle of broken sins
The biblical story, can’t you not see  
Dirt
Noir
******
Found peace among the ******
Among the ****
Words cocking up on the spoon
Thoughts breaking loose
The flames reminded me that I was just a kid
When you let him touch me
Inhale the smoke
Mainline it
to forget that your heart is broke
Once somebody told me
I’ll burn my veins
Before
The words burn the pages
c Jun 2019
My soul is flying
I am an adrenaline ******
High on the excitement
Of being alive
I am in love
With this wild ride
Called living
Maddie Rea May 2019
Frustration eating my insides never again will I feel you

Always accompanying me through everything always by my side

Thick and thin but now I’m to think to even let you in and if by chance you allow me that bliss

You **** back, my eyes close anticipating your hit but it never comes

Allowing myself to be consumed by the anger of the blow, lingering, never able to feel your pain

My adrenaline swells bring out the rage in me

Can’t confide in anyone because they could never understand and when they can fathom it goes ignored

My pain, anger, and rage makes them mad at me and only because I can’t obtain your beautiful pain; **** your excuses it’s not like you can just leave, it would only tear me apart

Whatever the debt I will pay even if it leaves everyone in pain
Maddie Rea May 2019
Finally got the money, took me all morning, I only have a few choices

Diving into the smell of death and the maggots, the sun isn’t hot enough while I’m sweating through my black tee

Middle of the night my stomach begging me, I go out to see how much shining weight it’s gonna take to carry me; Waiting at the yard my bones telling me to scream

Five am rolls around so I am deciding wether I live or die, fingers fly across the screen, anticipation causing the weak stomach. The text popping up, be ready, now to wait the three hour eternity, insides mutilating me. ‘Bing’ “I’ll be out in three.” Sandpaper skin, you better not ******* touch me

In the evening you’ll find me pleading with strangers, just give me what I need. Can’t you see I’m sitting here dieing, all they have to do is have a little sympathy

Soft caress of my purple brush, just another touch up. All you hear is the loud click of my heels, bass humming through my body. I’m over being fake and phony, just give me the money you now owe me. Packing up, so ready to leave, I can feel the hunger getting to me; I’m going 80 ready to pick up these five g’s knowing it will cure me

The pain is so bad I need this gun with me; my plan c just incase I decide to free myself of there monsters inside of me. Fever in my veins, ice in my brain, terrified to go back to where we came. Why can’t I leave this place; emotions gripping me, please let this substance ease my brain, only caring about this one simple thing. I can hear them all screaming my name as I no longer feel anything, all I can remember is the flash and the bang
False Poets Feb 2018
complexity bias

how you love to criticize my poems
as too long and overly complex

poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting
unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the
intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews

Writing is a **** temptation -
we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90%

perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones
put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking
word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring -

give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is
easily digested and there are no consequences

I am a member of a discriminated-against minority
we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say
hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of
our faces,  you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied

25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white,
my occupation is playing video games and making sure
my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States
where I was born

there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives
a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts
any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in
my future

this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy,
ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about,
on your way out, of course, of course,
we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden

my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way,
order slowly declines into disorder

my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the
the Herzog continuums
and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my
going, gone under

so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the
requisite taxing authority

you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions

resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length

compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go,
perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
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