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julius Oct 2021
There is something wrong about
The way i breathe
The way my lungs fill
The way the air leaves

There is something wrong about
The way we kiss
The way your eyes roll
The way i choke on this

The atmosphere tastes sour
Like a papercut
The taste on your tongue
Isn’t foreign
But that doesn’t mean it’s welcome

There is something heavy about
The way you’re numb
The way you’re ******
So you can be with someone
last cold friday
she confessed
that she
only likes me
when she's high
just like i guessed

so we broke up
broke apart
broken hearts
scattered parts
from something like
my skull
Bongani G-kay Feb 2021

Opt...2 roads i have a choice...

Can i raise my voice....
My conciouness...

Should i trust him cause am him...

That's another route....
With different signs...
I need yahh...

As i lose myself.....
In the mist darkness....
Can you hear my words...

These words teach yah....
Cause they are the world..

I ain't a preacher...
But am the last prophet...
I have been here.


My soul...dry...
Drought change season position...
Like pieces of a draft....

I doubt...the pen in my veins...
It carries alot of secrets pains...
Its the 14 day..
Observing the periods....

******* cycle repeat...
Is this my defeat...
I wither...
Lose all i had dehydrated...
Probably my soul in stilled in society and social media hatred...

Comment... that's my last moment....
Sweat and tears...
My own body
Wither...from decision taken either

Aka...🕊️-son of lee-dia-🕊️
Either or wither...2topics as a single poem
Erin Suurkoivu Jan 2021
Feast or famine.
The dry summer or monsoon season.

It’s not as though he had
murdered me.

That would be easier to
prove. There would be

no hiding
the blood of it.

And how I did bleed—
years later,

red all over it.

Fuel for the fire.

But nothing trembles
as I weigh the being

of my existence against
what stoppage.

Order or chaos.
Black or white.

What has been spoilt
rotten can never be

golden. These are
the questions I ask myself:

Am I loved? Do I
love? Can I love?

While there is the story
he tells himself, reassuringly:

It was just ***.
It was just ***.
I am scared for my Life and
Our Oath will keep both of us
Safe till I build orphanages,
old people's homes and
till our songs gets Grammies, B.E.Tz and
a special place on the internet!

I decree
All Poets, Musicians, Artists and Listeners are Prophets if not Prophetic!
Andrew Rueter Sep 2020
If you’re having trouble discerning
whether specific discourse is satire or stupidity

keep in mind if it’s one of those
then the other version of that probably exists.
Khoi Aug 2020
I touch your skin
with my mouth
I inhale your soul,
your essence is the heart
of the morning breeze
upon my lips
I am set alight
burning after your horizon
my petals pulsate
until I slump inside your chest
I am the sunflower
you are my fire
I follow you like mist
meets the sun
with me
it's all or nothing.
For the way it should be
Em Glass Aug 2020
In the morning before work
I sit on the floor and pretend
that it’s dirt. I look out the window
and pretend that it’s church.
That gods of the earth and sky
and space all did their research
in collaboration to be sure
that today is worth it.
Defy the paradigm,
The escapist void,
Lines of code I refuse to obey.

I defy,
All emotionalogic.
I make no sense,
Or a dollar that pays my way to ignorant bliss.

'Tis the streets upon which I so selfishly make my way and,
My gears turn with no source or destination.

I am the,
Status quo of the chronically out of place.
Take that next step,
Show me.
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