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selina Feb 28
in the morning, i will feign ignorance,
pretending to be fast asleep and unaware
as you pull on your shirt and socks

we should have been theater concentrators, like,
if we never talk about it, it just never happened
you're just so nonchalant, and i'm just melodramatic

and i'm never satisfied unless it's something tragically comic
so tonight, let's pretend to be enemies, let's become lovers,
let's drown in shared regrets, get too familiar with each other

after all, tomorrow, when we wake, it'll all be over
your missing friends and my crushing hangover
will, once again, inevitably, reduce us to strangers
people who major in certain fields are called "concentrators" at my college
ranveer joshua Nov 2021
Though the loneliness sets in, among the crowds,
Here, within themselves, they find their solace;
Euphoric events have now lost their appeal;

Mindfulness is the key to rest, they recite;
Exaggerated were their extravagant emotions on the dance floor,
Losing themselves in self discovery;
Over-sensationalized was the persona,
Diving into the depth of purple elixirs;
Rave, rave, rave,
As the sun replaces the strobelights,
Melancholy rises with her rays,
And suddenly, life seems meaningless;
The melodrama,
It strikes;
Cleaning up the champagne glasses, after the catastrophe
mark soltero Dec 2020
second choice boys
and last choice girls
live in the realm of abandonment
they scream into the void
unrequited love and its sorrowing embrace
feel like a swan dive
the butterflies soon rot away in you
as if they regress back to caterpillars
and feast upon your insides
they grow just to consume you
to eat away at your everything
the sad truth to the friendly hugs that feel empty and cold
they will never love you
it’s best i tell you first
before you’re too old
mark soltero Oct 2020
the storm has passed
but the aircrafts’ echos linger
a quiet sunrise will always cleanse the weak
will your problems seep into the broken earth?
squeezing between ages of the bones
because unlike them
you were chosen
so indebted you are
and pain will sow upon your heart from now on
mark soltero Sep 2020
what scares me
is that
even scars disappear eventually
just don’t get tired of me
English Jam Jul 2018
My little friend is now gone
My tragic life must go on; despite that
His evil eyes and his cheeky smile still burn in my mind
He no longer exists except
For my memory of him
And I rejoiced
When I heard the news
Still I can recall how I sobbed
When he gave me his evil eye for the first time
When he hurled glass and other projectiles at me when he was hungry
When he spent hours upon hours pondering the fabric of society
I hated him
I wished
For his death
I was depressed
It was like paint peeling off a wall
It was like finding a dead leprechaun at the end of a rainbow
I was expecting some sort of remorse when he left
Funny how heartbreak works

Now read this in reverse
Because sometimes all you need
Is a little change of perspective
To truly understand someone
Dedicated to the goldfish I had when I was little who accidentally died. This is for you sweet fish <3.
F Jan 2019
an ailment of the mind,
incorporeal, a ghost that flits between
worlds, festers and grows —
a thumping tumour.

sick, but not really sick.
(does it hurt? paracetamol might help).
you are exaggerated and foolish.
count your blessings.

potent to change reality.
stronger than any mushrooms.
a single thought, the words and the images,
gunslingers to misery.

hook that reels in,
boding some ominous fate.
fish out of water —
flippity-flop; people sunbathe around.

plodding is what it is.
plodding through a tempest,
freezing, crackled skin,
watching everyone else walking in sun.

you want to scream but don’t.
you want to explain but don’t.
you let them form their own ideas
and agree. you feed on it.
depression? anxiety? what a ******* drama queen
Sharon Talbot Nov 2018
He drives into the desert in a Toronado,
Dust in his eyes from the open window,
Sun on the burned skin and black mascara
That augments his vivid gaze.
Black orbs that stare at the burning sand,
His mouth is defiant and morose,
He turns off the path into the sage and saguaro.
The car is like a black beetle on a carpet of tan.
He lifts a shovel from the trunk, looking crazed.
Digs a shallow grave in the sand,
He rips a talisman from his neck
And declares he is looking for something
Unclear and he slurs a chant.
“Something is coming”, he seems to say.
He buries the necklace and drives away.
Will he come back for it or leave it
for the spirits of the desert?
No, he will come for it every day
Bury it again and again
Until the spell wears down,
The perfumed season is done,
Or perhaps the spring floods
Wash it all away.
Based on a silly advert for perfume, with Johnny as a superstitious rebel! I had to make a "story" of it, just for laughs.
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