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Life is just the façade of plastic – plastic money; currency crafted
from synthetic dreams, one's plastic love; affections moulded in
artificial forms. Too much of the latter; a toxic one's greatest trait.

Plastic taste; threads of regret cling to my teeth – my palate’s
insides churns; the words of people made of plastic bullets; still
their weight hurts.

Gazes of a select few friends resemble patient crows, observing
the burdens you bear in a plastic bag of your baggage. A course of
those processed foods; processed natural flavours – sprinkle a little
more sugar to add weight to that plastic container.


“You don’t really match my flavour,” I wouldn’t know how it
really tastes – my heart; I’d love to give you a taste, but it’s often
filled with so much hate. And as I try not to break what holds my
food for thought; I keep my dreams on a plastic plate.

But even plastic breaks, just with the right weight.

So tell me, why are you trying to carry the weight of the world?
Alex Feb 9
They're lovely.. Lovely like the color black. But black can be seen as scary… if you look at it from a different perspective and discard the negative.. You'll see that their lovely, lovely like roses
Roses are pretty like the night sky on the 4th of july.. Their lovely, lovely like greek
Greek is lovely like how they speak…. They're lovely and I don't want anybody… their lovely, lovely like ash in the sky… lovely like the name Ash… which is funny because that's their name… I love Ash.. i love you Ash <3 they are lovely and i don't want nobody
this one is about my boyfriend
We are the blind faith of birds believing
In these empty sightless winds,
Sugar-spun cotton candy clouds; two kites
With trailing long strings.

We require no advice on the art of how
To fly, tangled traffic threads of candy cane
Lines of the clouds of yesteryears –
Our drive is sometimes a descent down
A mountain, make the time to embrace the sky;
Glide!

I gave up on my possession of love, to make
Peace with those demons; tears cascade like
Contemporary storms, running rivulets; craters
Upon our skin as the ache of hurt deepens...

Stinging like the creases of a well-worn shirt;
Lessons etched in the fabric of new wrinkles –
Still to remain as the silhouettes of the horizon.
Antonia Feb 6
I think therefore I’m tired all the time…
Antonia Feb 5
when all is well,
I hope you dare
to take a breath,
and fully see
how wonderful
you came to be
We so often rush to reach another goal, milestone or phase in our "character development", that we forgot to take a moment and appreciate how far we've come. I dare you to congratulate your progress!
And in this life, we:
Live, we regret, we learn –
Lessons from regret

And for bodies, we are:
Skins, touch, ecstasies in –
Two hearts that touch

Finally, we are all to:
Love, give breath, have *** –
To expect, another breath

              We all create.
Maria Etre Feb 4
I feel dumb
because
the blood isn't
making it to my brain
it's rerouting itself
to where
it's pumped
and I
feel
light-headed

*falls
But do you not realize how  
Littered
You are, with so much  
Time–              

               Still,  
You choose to waste it

Yet time will always lick
Our wounds
Given the time, for us to heal

               We are
           Time's litter.
Nostalgia Feb 3
Go forth and be who everyone wants you to be.
Speak in tongues that aren’t your own.
Involve into hobbies that will deteriorate living.
Analyze them like a book and answer with an A+
Forget yourself.
And praise the new you.
Screen testing, screen testing – I start my days wondering how I’m
supposed to play the role to my life. I have a TV screen for my past,
to better watch my back. Most days I’m too caught up on channelling
my fears, for whatever reward I believe – they'll never pay me back;
they're just all looking for payback.

My overthinking sometimes, works overtime – trying to be a good
figure; putting words into action, to be an action figure. How would
you figure, that out of the bunch of men, you could stand out of the
rest?

And wouldn’t it be funny if the woman of my dreams told me, "you
need to rest" – only taking her advice, if she's the better dream out of
the rest.

For not all men can swallow their pride; others survived gallons –
but in short, a man would do it for the right gal. You tell him, "you'll
never get that girl," his pride starts to see a challenge. A greater pride,
chases tale to make it a talent – that man seems challenged!

Every day is a just balance of challenge – wealth we scavenge, our
dreams live as memory stores; we store up what we value the most.
We look at tomorrow for what's in store; born out of love just for most
of us to go and create war.

Speaking highly of yourself, often speaking down on someone else–
speaking life into a child's life, speaking ill on them when you grow
so sick of them. In the end, we are just words.
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