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Matt Jul 14
I am a pathological liar.

I tell you I hate the winter time, yet I spend hours sledding down icy hills.

I swear I crave attention, but I’m always the one avoiding group dinners.

I profess my disdain for chaos, yet my desk is cluttered with half-finished plans.

I say I’m done with the past, yet I reread old messages like a ritual.

I call myself steady, but I change my mind every time the wind shifts.

I claim I’m tired of this city, though I’ve memorized the names of every street.

I promise I’ll let go, yet I still save receipts from years ago.

I contradict myself with a precision I can’t help but admire,
And maybe the paradox is the most honest thing about me.
Reece May 29
The casino owner,
Loved taking money from others.
Just set a million-dollar prize,
And everyone is surprised,
So they flock to the casino,
To ruin their lives.
Not that the owner cares,
Money in his pocket,
To pay for all his affairs.
All of the money,
Anyone could ever want,
So he spent it,
To expand the gambling.
More bills rolled in,
Which he used to pay the bills,
Of the growing establishment.
No amount of money,
Was ever enough,
And eventually,
The casino owner went bankrupt.
The people were tired of being lied to,
So they started a mob,
And robbed the casino.
They burned it to the ground,
No more money to be found.
A classic tale of greed, a contagious disease.
Lostling Apr 22
The girl in the mirror
Is a liar
Even with the people she trusts
She lies
Even in the place she’s most bare
She lies
Even when its just us
She lies

And I’m too tired to figure out the truth
Or put anything I feel into words
Ken Pepiton Apr 16
Ai say, receiving via bluetooth,
oh, say, this must be our sign, soon...

On some curve of life function rectifiers,
we have believers who make reasons
for all individual inflamed,
proud local flesh
or agreement clusters
of our kind.

Should you have decided
this is the day,
I heard,
at your I level you hear
this is the day.

Your part, your role, react in part

We have been called.
Out from the shadows mellow,
no dramatics, satisfaction granted,
taken, rest and recuperate, hate later…

listen, this, in its word flow,
is part of time words exist in,
after being read once, right made,

this dabar is said
to use the pen
of a ready writer, eh what better effort,
effectually adapting
to our instant constant

in prayer, believe is a verb,
on your side.

We believe
we know how faith must
function using our faculties
for sensing needs, which are keyed
to homeostasis, relative balance
of the chemistry and mechanics
of life
in motion.

We can do this with no hate at all, wisdom
fruits entreated with in bubbles of war,
for some certainly ****** reasons,
we can infect your wished real,
reasons to beg for bread, real,
humility costs that gnosis,
and so do many religious
ties to late spring around here.
Amen, an intro on a 137 page conversation, a monk I know compiled/
Faith Cubitt Apr 6
so you say I am not putting effort into us....
you accused me of being distant and heartless....
while I laid in bed praying you'd call me or text me.
I woke up every morning hoping to hear from you
anything from the simplest hey to the most meaningful good morning.
I would think about your eyes and how they were so blue.... how badly I wanted them to look at me.... truthfully.
I craved to know you
how you liked your coffee,
your favourite dessert
favourite season
anything.
anything to get me a glimpse of who you are.
but you shrugged me off
saying you were busy....
I respected that, I respected you.
until you said you loved me
it truly did break me....
you were such a good liar until those words slipped from you lips.
you did not love me,
you just loved yourself to much.
And maybe I didn't love myself enough....
Gideon Mar 8
I hope you are cleansed one day.
After your life fades away.
I know you won’t change overnight.
Because after decades,
you still ignore my plight.
I can only hope you will be purified.
But not in a way that is dignified.
No, you must be burned and smote by fire.
Because only flames can cleanse a liar.
You tell yourself you’ve moved on,
but I see it in your eyes.
You walk into strangers’ rooms,
looking for something of hers,
and you come out empty,
losing pieces of yourself
with every step you take.

You lie to your skin,
tell it she’s gone,
but your body knows the truth
it remembers the way her name felt
in your mouth,
how her hands fit into yours.

You’re hiding,
running from something you don’t want to face.
Go back to her.
It’s not too late.
Stop pretending you’re okay.
The truth is, you’re still standing at the door
you promised you’d leave behind.

Go back.
Malia Dec 2024
Can I tell you a secret?

Sometimes my jaw hurts from
Smiling
So much.

The room is filled with voices, the din
Of a kitchen in the back of an echo chamber
And none of them know the way I ache
Because all I do is
Smile.

They don’t know—
They don’t know that I go home
Exhausted
From this constant, grand performance.

They do not know I am a liar.

I touch the fingers of the girl in the
Glass as I wash off the makeup and
Study the acne scars underneath.
but actually fr my jaw hurts from smiling too much. stop making me laugh goshdarnit.
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