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Nigdaw 5d
when you're tired of the swings
and the thrill of the roundabouts
how's  another playground
gonna recharge your adrenaline

you survived all the bruises
and the scars have healed faded
so many tumbles trying
to push an unreachable envelope
perhaps it's time to appreciate the stars
rather than trying to reach them
to conquer the universe
******* in my purse to hide the removal.
two hours reading, two hours playing;
flesh induced flame.
Bukowski bouncing off my lips makes you blush and bumble.
scoot closer to me brother
persuasion is passive, as the board is already cut.
take me to your bed
room to roll on the king
bruises to be, whispering, I talk game but I am your slave.
perfect ***** melts in mouth
three times wailing
left not wanting, but you give me more.
tangled in the midst of cigarette sips allowed in soft sheets.
beautiful compared to your carpet downstairs
currently soaked in Calvados, Cava, dog **** and baby spit
- pacifiers and leggos under my *** - shelves with pictures of your ex.
unregretful on both parts mine and yours -
because wants are greater and needs are regular
beyond this drowning world of systematic monogamy slither.
so we do this together;
navigate the pleasure and pressure of people,
as we are all similar in wants -
the energy we exchange makes it all feel accessible,
and this one hundred years not so mundane; wishable.
Amanda Dec 2019
Both our hearts are caught in between
Envy coating us pistachio-green
A varnish not shiny but smooth
Reflecting light the tiniest move
Eye-catching beauty to who dares look
A white pebble sparkling in a slow-paced brook
Containing jealous winds with restraints of ink
Emotions grow faster than you think
What starts as cloudy weather goes from small to bad
Soon a storm of feelings leaves you powerless and sad
Day 25: use the following words in a poem: pistachio ink pebble varnish weather
Pleasure Scheme Nov 2019
I was born between Genesis and Armageddon.

A bullet in suspended animation
In a non-place
With no target.

Here I hang, waiting for flesh to greet mine
Walk through me as I tear through you.

With what will you fill that hole in your head?

Precious stones?
Pixie dust?
Condensed milk?

All the tangible things degrade.

But here,
We go on and on and on and on
An endless opera.

Our eyes heavy
Yet lustful and burning

On the cusp of a sordid dream.

I fight not to fall
and be born again in sleep.

My fresh conscience:

Bold red

Razor sharp

Protruding from my chest!

Foreign and consuming like some... alien leech?

It’s here to stay.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
We know this particular neck of the woods well.
To know her is to love her,
Over and over again.

The nexus between us has a motive
All its own: strike the firing pin.
Then spin~spin~spin.

I see stars that uninhibitedly glow.
Heaven has opened
Up her waiting arms.

Who said,
"All that glitters is not gold?"
Was it not a desperate wistful streetcar?

We're bathed in a bridal veil of angel light:
The crowning nimbus.

*** is a knotty business: it binds.
Given enough rope, we
Hang from the rafters.

Come fruition come!
Ah, this sleep is sweet
On those morning afters.
Earl Cooper May 2019
Art is my,
this....****** is my,
I am not your....,  
High squeals and sun rays coating sight,
heart beats slow as the joke reach its peak,
but you are too much to teach,
Art is my,
this....****** is my,
I am NOT your...,
spontaneous in arousing ways,
Paris for breakfast,
Bali for lunch,
The moon for dinner,
But you are all about your Inner..self,
Art is my,
this......****** is my,
I am not your,
you have the scent of over driven adolescence everywhere,
but taking steps're too attached,
art is my....,
this....****** is my,
my time is my,
my home is my,
my body is my, not your,
I seen she's gotta have it and felt very inspired
Ash Feb 2018
Sadness and euphoria.
They are bitter truths that go together,
Like zealotry and bigotry,
Or monogamy and deceit.
Sadness and euphoria: sadness the shell, euphoria the oyster.
Ash Feb 2018
I’m searching for an answer.
Surrounded by monogamists I crawl and weep,
Surrounded by dogmatists I hunger.
I’m searching for a key to unlock the doors of profanity.
I don’t want to hear something about the seasons,
Or anything about ethics.
No more flowers,
Away with the aesthetic of yore.
Give me the affairs, the filth, secret lives.
Give me the runaways, the elderly, the jokesters.
Give me the casanovas and cougars.
I search this rotten boulevard and t
All night, all night, even during the day..
I’m on the search..
I’m looking for a key to unlock the doors of profanity.
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