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amuba Oct 9
The sunset and the last light
The flower and the last bloom
A man and his last fight
To withering and doom

A compass without a needle
A fish without taste to swim
Iron weak and feeble
A man without a dream

Falling down the gutter
Dark and meaningless
Where everything seems to wither
Lives the man soulless
yes soulless is equivalent to dying while still living, similar to a man without any dreams just passing by life
As in villages as in big cities,
As in classrooms as in societies,
I'm alone with my strange personalities.

The eyes, the smiles, the frowns, the clowns,
The hardships and their ups and downs
Have no affect on my daily rounds.

Even the precious words are empty,
No mean defences, no more acting gently;
No more need to fake my misery intelligently.
lake Oct 6
i walked down an empty road
it felt so free and open
i wondered why no one took it
but then the pavements were crooked
and i could see the flickering lights
turning the dust into a glimmering sight
i walked halfway only to realize something
that all these paths, they led to nothing
and i'm not the first to notice it
for all intents and purposes, there were red flags
i just didn't want to be dead last
Anonymous Sep 9
Every ****** of his ******* hips I lose the bittersweet feeling of your sinful touch
Heavy breaths and empty feelings
This is how to lose you
Meaningless conversation and a head full of poison
Blue and purple and yellow
All of the colors I take to forget you
******* and loving and *******, what’s the difference?
This is how to lose you
Whiskey lips singing such sweet songs I feel for only a second
More poison, more *******
Arduino Aug 4
Your tears of a golden hue roll as tumble weeds across a pasture

Sweat beads travel through a highway from your chest towards your hips

Arms raised to the sky waiting for some kind of rapture

The rain drops move the ponds edge to match the quiver in your lips

Even small shakes are formed at the core

Bored and alone, scorned off your throne might be the case

Or you might just stare at the abyss

Within infinite possibilities, where is my place?

Where can you trace the third eye beginning to paint its own cyst

Wandering through a series of articulate hallways

Finger paintings and rough sketches define this maze

A quill dipped in blood rewrites the phrase

To be or not to be

To me its honestly just another phase

A life long transition towards death
Carl D'Souza Jul 27
When I feel
my life is meaningless,
I remind myself
it is my responsibility
to make meaning of my experiences
by doing philosophy:
which clarifies
my aspirations and values,
which evaluates my experiences
in comparison to my aspirations and values,
which discovers wisdom
about what I can do
to improve my situation
to achieve my purpose: joy and happiness;
then my life is meaningful!
SMS Jul 23
walking around the isles of the corner store,
watermarks visible everywhere my feet take root,
lost, i start to find puddles i left behind,
the cashier glances three times over, concerned.

i trip, as i try to find the exit sign
sweat pooling, joining the puddles in an effort to drown me,
i pull out, crawling through sliding doors that have the decency to open for me, asphalt burning my palms as i get out, rocks scraping my knees.

the florist outside picks me up
with smiles and a bouquet of flowers,
unsure of what to say i duck my nose into their wiry stems,
just to find out, that the flowers are fake,
the smiles abundant of insincerity,

her kindness as meaningless
as the cashiers concern,
And once again,
I'm drowning.
Collabs give me so much stress. But as my man says, it’s the writing with him that I loved, not just the result. Thank you <3
Check out his poems!!
Susanna Jun 22
my poems are so good that they're bad. they are infinitely deep and meaningful and therefore don't mean anything at all.
I can say it means
A lot of different things
But when I first wrote it
It was generally *******
Tony Tweedy May 20
My life continues to end at seventy beats per minute.
Is existing the same as living?
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