Bodies caress in a whirlwind dance
Dusty nicotine plumes pack the atmosphere
Alcohol drips into the vein
Stories converge into none
Worship of the ages has begun
The music is blaring
Like the drum of
Isn't it strange?
To be surrounded
Yet feel drowned
I grab a
Feel the sting
That gets me drunk
The feeling of
Calls for me.
It's slurred speech's
I grab it
And follow it home
To be seen
Whether I'm in a crowded room,
or alone with you....
It never seems to be enough...
I guess it shouldn't bother me as much,
this feeling of loneliness...
I'd grown all too familiar with it growing up...
Never fitting in,
always the one being left out of parties and social gatherings....
This feeling of loneliness is something I'd grown accustomed to,
but i never expected to feel it from you....
I thought you'd be different,
I know how much your gaming means to you and I get that,
I really do...
I just need someone...
Someone who's always going to be there,
sure there'll be distractions,
but nothing that's so self emerging and addicting that in that moment and time nothing else matters but winning...
I just need that constant reassurance,
that you're not going anywhere,
that I'm ok...
All i want is to be ok..... Not Alone......
I want, no, I crave that comfort, like a warm blanket and cozy socks,
curled up at a window to watch the rain as it pours down outside...
God I feel so alone.....
I don’t know what to make of this. The half-naked Russian model rupturing in the tub, one hand rubbing salt from her habit of weakness, another clutched a swill of wine. Her pill-loaded lover, always blurring. Both too young to bear the death poem of lullabies. In another room, in another town, a redhead stranger sits soaking next to me, governing my drunk body back to senses with her mouth. Outside, a gaggle of youths perch the water’s edge, lapping beer from a spillage of shadows. Soon, they’ll beat their wings madly and rush the night air, running on nothing but ***, *****, and lace. Giddy and octane. I won’t know what to do with it or make of it, still, years later in life… an even more ragged crackpot, taking potshots at poems.
Stumbling through the crowd with my head covered in frown.
I couldn’t avoid the sound of the beaten-down mound that became the people I moved around, constantly caught in the pound of waves so tightly wound.
Grabbing my drink I was crowned the queen of the clouds, my arms were bound to the pump of the crowd.
I thought I was drowned so trapped in the underground, stranded, I was desperately earthbound.
I drank to the profound, with cheers to the people I tried to surround.
At long last I passed out, woke up to blame redound.
Ah, to be on the adult playground.
This is what was derived from the third day of NaPoWriMo but it is basically nothing like the prompt **** (also does NaPoWriMo look like a chemical formula or sis that just me??)
I sit there
Not believing that each person
Can possibly be so shallow
Can have so little layers
That what they’re showing the room
Isn’t just a shoddy facade
So incompetently shielding the world
From the turbulence
Each of them is at a simmer
Sizzling and crackling
Hissing out little bits
Of their true interiors
In small foggy clouds
That dissipate and are forgotten
Sometimes before they are even acknowledged
This is an old poem initially drafted while having a panic attack at a party. Enjoy.
gallons of coffee,
regretful decisions at primitive parties
with the cheapest alcohol that can be found,
stress-filled hours at the library,
followed by binge-eating sessions
staring in a textbook that is
worth more than my soul,
just to take a test that will determine
what my life becomes.
Oh, but what a glamorous life
college students lead.
swaying to the rhythm of the bass
I dance the cup back up to my lips again
I close my eyes and knock the rest of the drink back
feeling the familiar burn
letting the substance run into my bloodstream
again and again and again
each round makes the world a bit brighter
the music sound better
my body more numb
my feelings more happy
so I drink and I drink
until I’m on my back
and the world is spinning
my mind is empty
free from any thought
I am at peace
floating, like a ghost
just trying to get through the night
trying to regain control
We shall make
A recourse to the gun,
If for election we run
Devoid of ideas,
Sell which we can,
We could hardly win
The heart of a single fan.
And narrow nationalists"
Put on us a ban
So that sinks on us
A political ivory tower
Is not for us,
Let us beat
The drum of war
And to monger to power.
recalcitrant, retrogressive, detractors,mongers,war