I'd never heard a gunshot until I had.
I had never been an orphan till I lost my dad.
I am a broken lot.
I find sadness when I'm alone.
I am annoying.
My mouth skips records--
I interrupt you when I talk.
I talk a lot.

A friend called me annoying, obnoxious, loud, and overly dramatic.
One of my best friends,
how could he forget these things?
Expect me to be anything less than me?
Zan Balmore May 17

Running, cold, unclothed,
reaching, dirt dry lonely roads
I found you.

Meek, nearly silent
beside my quiet roar.
A tremble, lightning writing
across an already blinding sky.
When the darkness came, though,
as I knew it would, the brightest of beacons
burned good above the ill will and good
above the desiccated peace.
I sang to you sadly, honestly, of my art.
I do this all to myself, though, out of control
and unstoppably. Your knowing mouth opened,
you spoke.

The moment
I saw you I wanted
Your disease in me

...
Misfitkilljoy May 16

Why is silence so loud?
Can you hear it?
Can you feel it?
I can.
If you can't you probably don't understand.
It's louder than you could possibly imagine.
It's like nails on a chalkboard.
It hurts your ears and makes you cringe.

You keep on spitting it out
From your couch "my friend"
Because you know where I'll be

Working furiously as ever before
Until all of the flaws are ironed out
And there's nothing left of you but your mouth

Just sit back and relax as you always have
And then comment on what THIS is really about

How I did what I said, and I said what I am
When I jumped up and stomped on the top of these clouds


Hopefully then you'll discover quite quietly how  
To have a sensible song tucked away in your mouth

There will always be doers and there will always be sayers. And that gap often frustrates one or the other. The speaking Vs. the action.

Even in the darkness
I can feel those eyes upon me.
I can close my eyes tight
and cover my ears,
but I can still picture their menacing glare,
and I can still hear those words
loud
and clear.
Don't shout your compliments
and jam them down my throat
because without my own consent
they mean nothing.
They tell me to learn
to take a nice gesture
but the truth is
it's the compliments that hurt the most.
When I close my eyes,
I can still see your mouths moving,
and I feel your words
rocking my world,
slowly sinking my ship.
I've tried to keep my sea legs
steady
for so long now,
but I can feel the uneasy,
sick,
queasy feelings
rolling back into my brain,
and I have to fight hard to stay on my feet.
You shout your words
like I should be thankful
to hear them.
The words only bring fear
that this perfection you see
could slip away,
and then I would be left
with the memory
of who I used to be.
The saddest thing is,
when I close my eyes,
I can't stop hearing their words,
and I can't stop feeling
like I should be ashamed
of what I've let myself become.
But the eyes,
the ones I see
even when I close my own,
are just that;
The eyes that peer down
upon me,
evilly glaring,
constantly staring,
picking me apart,
are those that rest
just above my own nose.

Alasia Apr 3

Breathing is not an option here,
Pressed against windows to fill
The cracks:
Don't let the water in.

The streets are flooding.

Find higher ground,
Ink bleeds down pages scarred
With words:
Save yourselves.

The streets are flooding.

Home groans against the pressure,
Begging to break and snap with
Powerless moans:
Don't succumb.

The streets are flooding.

"Find higher ground!" I scream,
They glare at me for disrupting
Their silence:
They won't hear me.

The streets are flooding.

The sound pools in my ears,
I used to collect rain drops in
Clay pots:
I want to rush the waves.

The streets are flooding.

I am too scared of heights to climb,
The glass is fogging I am trying
To breathe:
Open the gates.

I am flooding.

Misfitkilljoy Mar 29

Do you ever feel your silence screaming loudly?
Do you ever feel your heart beating out of your chest?
Do you ever feel your mind take off without you?
Do you ever feel yourself slip away?

Devin Ortiz Feb 10

The Madness of blended reality, is confidently marching through my mind.
I could not resist the sweet sound of this haunting Muse.
She sang her dismal songs, which shook me something fierce.
Astounding words which resonate feelings I've never mustered.

Now comes the crazy, the loud bellowing of endless chords.
I'm running, clasping my ears ever so tightly, to no avail
The chantey is banging in the walls of sanity, louder and louder.
Tossing and turning, wide eyed and insane, her song goes on.

Even in my dreams, which have become their own nightmares, sing.
I cannot escape this tune, marching to the gates of some type of truth.
What am I missing, and shall silence elude me in my descent of ill will.
I roll back my eyes, to see the darkness play with such fever.

Hopeless, I give in, I let it play, over and over and over again.
I allow this cursed song to grace this shameful and unforgivable self.
For a moment, I try to believe it will end, knowing full well, its a lie.
Now, repeating with ominous terror, she sings louder, I began to crack.

Love hard, my friends. Love noticeably.


Love does not deserve to be shoved under the rug, to be disguised, or to be quieted. Love does not mean conforming to the idea that genuine affection is “sappy,” “cheesy,” or “cringeworthy”; instead-- love loudly.


The world wants to tell you that relationships are to be silenced. That posting multiple photographs of each other is tacky, uncomfortable, and something to make fun of. That devoting time with your favorite human being is disgusting, overbearing-- especially when you are young and the future does not exist in your hands.


Too bad, future. And how unfortunate, world. Because at the end of the day, the world does not own love. You do. It is yours to have, to keep, to share, and to do whatever it takes to hold onto it. It is mine.


When you find love, shout it from the rooftops and frame a million photographs. Post selfies of the two of you smiling wide and unwavering. Wear its colors on your face and shamelessly declare it to the whole universe and beyond: You are in love. You are alive.
And likewise, this is my philosophy: Love intentionally, fiercely, tirelessly.


Love so hard it makes people dizzy. Take it as a compliment. In an exhausted world that spins with violence, hatred, and monstrosity-- praise its joys. Snap those pictures.Tell your friends. Scrapbook it, publish it, make art out of it. Laugh about it, display it, live it. Put an end to the grotesque concept that something so beautiful, perhaps life’s most magnificent, should be sheltered. Let it grow.


This is a declaration. I am boisterously in love. There is no quiet here.
One day, you will find someone or something that your heart will never be able to shut up about. And that’s okay. Let it scream.

I like writing because there's all these words in my head that i'm never able to say out loud because of how introverted and anxious I am and people never seem to want to listen to me talk so by writing, I can actually speak. And the world will actually listen.

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