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Evie Jul 22
i almost had a midlife crisis and dyed my hair a soft baby pink

it woulda been pretty

pair it with a tattoo under my eye

a broken heart on one side

a sparkling star on the other

but then i thought to myself, it’s not exactly a midlife crisis if i’m only 16

more of a quarter life crisis

not nearly as dramatic

so i settled for painting my nails pink instead
it’s been a wild summer. lots of emotions.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 11
It may be only
a little pearl.
But someone
reached out to it
peeping in the giant sea.
Jim Musics Apr 2018
Peepers, (at last!)
Their thousands of calls blown, wavering across the eternal swamp.

Squishing, slurping boots.
Just last week they crunched and squeaked.

Softened trickle of Crow Creek,
As it makes its way down the algae and moss covered rocks.

Chasing and swooping Red Tails' Dopplered “keeeer”

The sultry, subtle, effervescence of the first Bock beer of the year.

The longing whisper in my dreams.
All this without my hearing aids!
sadgirl Nov 2017
After Danez Smith's Dinosaurs in the Hood

Let's make a movie called *Lil Peep In Heaven

Transpotting meets 8 Mile meets six xanax bars
There should be a scene where Lil Peep climbs up a few flights of Stairs and makes it to the pearly gates, because there has to be pearly Gates

Don't let Bella Thorne star in this.
In her version she tongue-kisses Peep,
Chews scenery in platform boots and bright pink
Ripped jeans. **** that, Peep has a tattoo removed
By a saint, his laser is proof of all that is good

I want a scene where Peep throws his pill bottles
At Ganesha, a scene where Allah tells Peep he'll
Rot in his grave forever if he doesn't stop
His antics. Don't let GothBoiClique hold a
Funeral for Gustav. I don't want any of that

Sentimental **** about love and how life is too
Short. This movie is about a man/boytoy/**** and dying thing,
Restarting his life with all the real-*** gods and patron saints and
Deities
Of every religion and every afterlife

I don't want some funny, dreadhead living in LA with a tattooed stick And poke commanding presence. This is not a vehicle for someone to Play Peep, this is a vehicle for Peep to play himself.]
I want his *******, white or not, praying. I want them far from their Knees.

I want Lil Peep to ride in a Benz truck down from the clouds, Screaming with spittle flying from his mouth the entire time.
I want Layla to post another video of Gustav slapping pans together Like a child. And I want Peep to see it all.

But this can't be a death movie. This can't be a death movie. This Movie can't be dismissed because it's too dark, or that a dead man is Playing the leading role. This movie can't be about crying, or cause people to cry. This movie can't be about a long history of emo coming To an end. This movie can't be about dying.

No one can say Peep is a pill-popping ******* who deserved his death Who wouldn't say it to his cadaver. No big pharmacy jokes in this movie. No bar, capsules or gels in the heroes, and Lil Peep never dies & Lil Peep never dies & Lil Peep never dies. Besides, the only reason I want to make this movie is for the first scene anyway; Lil Peep climbing up the cloudy stairs, his eyes dilated & empty

                                   the heaven before him filled with congratulations
After Danez Smith.
K Balachandran Sep 2017
stay put, flippant cloud,
swaddle baby sun just born,
see, how he peeps down!
Sunshine Girl Mar 2017
You think you know every little crack, every crevice in my soul; yet there is so much of my life’s book that you haven’t read. My hair is a carefully styled mess, strategically placed static, and my lips are what they are- lonely. Sometimes I think you wonder about who I am, my origins; I can’t say that I don’t either. How’d I end up as such as mistake? You love me for what you say are perfections, yet you see not the real me, you see the front I put up, my acting. How can one be addicted to a person who doesn’t even know themself? Yet loving you makes me want to learn.

We both **** the life, the very being from each other; yet it is still not enough. I want to hook myself to you like an IV, to pull the gold running through your veins into my conciousness and let it light me. If there was a way to evaporate your essence and save it in a bottle for later, I’d be the scientist who discovered the way to do it. The very scent of you carried on the air from yards away is enough to register me for a few centuries in an asylum. You say you barely wearr cologne, and I understand it. You wear yourself, a fragrance I wish I could rub all over myself every second of every day, every time I curl up in a ball on my bed after you drive home at night, wondering why it is you can’t just stay.

You belong to the road, you’ve sold your soul to the feeling of the wind in your hair. I can’t break your contract with independence, but I can tag along for the ride. Seeing you so happy, getting your racer’s tan, blaring the radio until the speakers want to scream. Why can’t I partake in your happiness? I wish there was a way for us to share the love for the world that you have; in its’ place in my mind is loathing. The only reason for living I have is you- and all I ask of you is to answer this one question; how have you fallen for this fallen angel, the outcast of society, the girl whom everyone forgot to remember and who you didn’t remember to forget?
Sunshine Girl Mar 2017
i just want my eyelashes against your cheeks.
Sunshine Girl Mar 2017
Dearest:

If I could touch you just once, then I'd be whole, I swear.
Sitting here letting youtube shuffle like the muddled thoughts within my mind, you're all that won't dissipate into thin air.
All Time Low, then church tomorrow morning, why won't you leave?
Are you lonely?
Do you need someplace to stay for a while?
Well, my arms and ears are open. Stay here a while.
Rest.
Everyone says "shes an invalid" and "she needs help", but I know it's not true.
Because if she feels half what I feel, all she needs is me.
And I need her more than the breaths I take, the words I write, and the ideas I spout.
One day, we'll be together again, angel, angel, angel. My angel.
My one and only angel.
And I can't wait for the day I can roll over in this same bed where we kissed and see your sleeping eyelashes fluttering admist your sleeping sighs.
I won't be doing much sleeping.
I promise.
Sunshine Girl Mar 2017
The stark realization that you're not here but rather, you were here in this bed, in these sheets, these arms....it hits me like a wave of lightning.
Tears turn to snow, fears turn to a numbing glow, and I miss you... Yet I know the rising operatic voices of the symphony of hope that plays in the background of my life's video game will rise higher than the brightest sunset and deepest tidal wave...because ironically, you miss me too. Through all my faults and accidentally elbowing you in the stomach and growling at you just because I know you hate it....you still miss me. How, I don't quite understand, and no matter how many times you try to show me, I'll still never get it, I'll just be mesmerized by the rave lights dancing in your eyes pulsing to the beat of my jack rabbit heart. Why can't we slow? Why can't we insist this isn't real, that we are going to wake up, why can't we agree to pinch each other to prove that reality is indeed upon us, that awakening to smell the roses is better than dreaming about them? Yet I find myself amidst the ardour of their smell and realize it is in fact an olfactory experience, and not a shift of the bored, school-ridden mind. Yes, you are real, far away- 1700 miles, in fact- but you are real; my fingers could touch a screen against your digitized fingerprints and somewhere, some way, you'd feel something pressing back gently as the dew. Because I'm here. And I love you.
And I don't want us to end. Ever.
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