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Hannah A May 2016
Take me out on a non realistic trip
detach me from my  inner self
when they threw me out on the island
I didn't miss my land
I didn't miss my people
I gazed on the freezing moon
I watched the boat coming and going
but I did not beg them to
take me back to the city
where the look in everyone's eyes
is just speaking of hatred
when you look into their eyes
and all you feel is hate from a person
maybe they aren't real
maybe I am not just what I think I am
if this isn't real then I'm just an idea
in someone else's brain
you don't get the feeling when you're trapped
you burn like fire in the deserts of Egypt
you crawl on your feet
crumble and fall like a stone
but you're nothing like a rolling stone
let the sun touch you until you sweat
let the forest's parasites live inside your hair
a meteor was crossing the sky
I looked into your eyes
and I saw the sparkles in your eyes
how it dilates slowly with the breeze.
mk Apr 2016
she was nihilistic, pessimistic, narcissistic
but he had her believing
in the magic of early morning coffee,
the sound of the waves against the shore,
& second chances
jennee Jan 2016
existing felt like one impending catastrophe
a burning cigarette, one after the other
there were moments when i wanted
my nights to be smothered by the trickling rain
as i gazed at the molding ceiling
i wanted to breathe smoke into their lungs
because nobody left alive is meant to stay clean
i had this uncontrollable urge to cover up
my patches with bruises and cuts with scars
and while others imagined forehead kisses
i fantasized bullet wounds and torn tissues,
oozing blood and split-second animate eyes

sunday mornings felt redundant
as the sermons of claimed priests,
i am not catholic, i am not your puppet
nor is that newborn you're immersing in filthy water
i'd rather envelop myself in the world's destruction
than misguided man-made beliefs,
so never wake me up in the mornings

leave me be to choke on my own spit for breakfast
i've always felt more alive with clogged lungs
a kick in the teeth for lunch, vermilion blotches,
split lips and discoloration for supper
leave me be to walk into my own extinction
covering a thousand miles of boiling rot

life is anything but a gift,
death is what we are

n.j.
sweet ridicule Dec 2015
transferring songs and
lemon drops from under my tongue
to the inside of my gums
until they reach the lines of your
soft palms
my beautiful Nihilist
sugar and heavy whipping cream and berries
shedding the skin
of my cherished pedagogues
incompetence catching
violently in my
Alto-voiced throat
feeling too much
is dangerous.
...
jennee Jul 2015
They claimed to have heard a voice in the sky
A voice that promised a civilization to safety and salvation
But maybe I was too deaf to realize
Or even hear that such a voice could be heard from thousands of miles up high
Maybe I was too ignorant and followed my own instincts and lies
But who are you to blame me, I was a young child
Eyes that have not yet been opened
Arms kept clean to the years to come, and counting
Skin left to reflect the admiration the moon has for its lover
And a smile kept genuine, that served as a curtain for the crooked teeth behind it
I was a young child at 9

Years passed and the moon still had a lover
The sun emanated its guidance and love for her
Yet the people still worshipped the voice above them
I heard they started building statues and churches, to which I turned the other ear
Because the only thing I believed was that they were soon to crumble
And become the origin of which is rubble,
A combination of corpses, offerings and slavery on top of one another
I refused to believe that such a voice could lead a civilization to destruction
Yet people were so deceived, their heads remained high,
Exposing their necks to a god that I called a murderer
But who are you to blame me, I was an ‘ignorant’ girl
My eyes were coated with the truth
I had stopped counting the years I was clean
And began to enumerate and name the scars I hid beneath my sleeves
Yet my skin remained warm from the radiance of two lovers I believed
The sun guided me and the moon sang me to sleep
I was an ‘ignorant’ girl at 17
The year when my genuine smile, disappeared

Now I am left with nothing else but to question
And in return receive an answer not worth my time nor the oppression,
That I experienced throughout this lifetime I chose to not believe in them
The 'them' who claimed to have heard the voice in the sky
And the 'I' that chose to turn deaf enough to realize
That there is no such thing as a perfect civilization of safety and salvation
I was not ignorant because I had my facts laid out in front of me and them
But they never believed a word I tried to verbalize,
How ironic for a nation of people to believe a non-existent voice from the sky
To which they turned their backs to the sun that kept them warm and to the moon of dimmed brightness and light

But now, I am left with nothing
So I went back to where it all started, the origin, and held my head up high
Revealed my neck to the god I believed was a lie
And for a split second, I thought my neck would cut open and blood would start coursing down my chest instead of my throat

I believed I thought I would die

n.j.
HW Dec 2014
There's a bird
In the sky.
Look at him fly.
Why?

With all the trouble
In this place,
I hesitate
To turn my face.

When fleeting pleasure
Lasts so short a time,
I cannot help
But weep and whine.

What is the purpose
Of our life?
Of this pain,
Of this strife?

Will it matter ?
If I live?
If I die?
If I give?
If I cry?

Will it matter?
If I stop my pace
And give this bird
My solemn face.
Inspired by Mac Miller "Avian"
Im so delightfully mad
Sometimes
So hindered by sadness

Becoming considerate
In an inconserate world

Wish I could show you where I
Come from
Its no use

For I am the fool
Babbling in the wind
I am the song rushing from the current
Of a dark sea

I wish above all you see the good in me
I hope above all I just insight you to dream

Transparency is my only downfall
I'm a book you're more than welcome
To read

Who cares who I am

I am the fool

Just read me like a book
And dream
Of what may lie
Beyond this dark sea

Stretched out past eternity
Far beyond my madness
Or silly ego
Of man
And proud of it
eugene-moon.weebly.com

— The End —