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tell me you love me through gritted teeth
while your demons rattle in their cages
fresh blood trails in the snow
initiate more questions than answers

sometimes I think I have an epiphany
it’s really the voices laughing at me
sometimes they argue over a chorus of steel-and-bone
sometimes they offer up death in the form of hope

or my severed head on a silver platter
because taking the time to disguise a ****** is
a display of ill privilege
the wealthy need no cover-ups, no covert operations

and if you’re already well-sustained then where’s the personal risk
if you drive to close to the border in your bulletproof vest
and shout that everyone else should just calm down
as bullets rain upon them and enter their chests?

who’s the true enemy of life –
the hollow tin man,
or the murderer made of flesh?
Ziplock tie,
a piece of skin caught in a jean
fabric stained, sticky sweat
under a cool breeze. A little wind in
between; hanging cause
Shaving necessary for release from

Bumps and scrapes
awkward looking, and ingrown hairs
blades of grass—pasture flesh land
Sprints of watered perfume, and
the only time man has a tender hand
Cleanliness; cleanse of appearance
to look and feel good in the end

    play ball in taking care of your *****
England And Germany
Twin sides of the same coin
Light and dark the game's the same
Two soldiers doing the same job
Both would be mortal enemies
Yet their stories are the same
On a certain type of mission
Getting the same result
Like it's a scripted storyline
The hit man and the cop
Telling exactly the same story
Each eradicating the ******
Not a tale I made up but real
Or so they say to me
What do you think?
SELL OUT Nick Armbrister new book out soon
Watching you wait
Tanned from the sun
Your glistening glow
On your week grown dark shadow
In your hot white shirt
Almost too hot to touch
Sitting on a Santorini wall
Your piercing dark features
Looking for me
Waiting for me
While I watch you
An image of my thoughts
MsAmendable Oct 27
What is a woman?
She is too much
Too much joy, like her heart is a bird which beats wildly against the cage of her chest,
(the cage Adam gave her, keeping her together)
Too much pain to contain alone, a tether
To the hands of those who might abuse her
Too unrestrained in love that it spills into the world freely, unknowing of the price
Too free in this jealous world, that seeks to condemn what it cannot consume,
Ex lovers, or demons she dare not exhume
Too much place in her skin, too much shine in each tress
Too much space in her limbs, so she must become less
So much beauty and life, to love and to touch
She knows what she wants, a little too much
Too tender to be broken, so she must become tough
And what is a man,
But not enough
Psychorange Oct 2
I'm not as half as beautiful as this man
But he's a Halfie like you
He's got no acne, I got scars on my face
But scars go away
Scars are scars they stay
No, they heal
Oh well, what can I say?
Keithlyne Oct 1
He's a guy
who looks good

even if he's
not wearing

aesthetic clothes,

he's a guy who
can make you smile

even if he's
not telling

funny jokes,

and he's a guy who
can steal your heart

even if he's
not making

you his world,

if tulips can
represent a man

it would be him,

'cause he doesn't
need to bloom

to impress everyone,

by the way,
he's my man.
Shofi Ahmed Sep 24
A man maybe
a giant.
Maybe a joy
or pain.
Truth is
a tear!
Gabriel Sep 22
"Your misery reeks trauma"
Worries the woman whom I loved dear,
I have heard countless swears,
shamelessly endured the beating of a woman,
bargained with my own emotions,
only to let this void in me rest
and set free the being that hungers purity.

The man inside the void is a boy,
a reckless one that loved too much
his kindness leave heart prints on whoever it attracts
and when that time comes
that his heart was next in line to be molded once again through pain,

there goes back the void of a broken man,
who's only desire is to be loved
and to be taken away
from the disaster he fights
every heartache at a time.
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