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LJDC Jan 27
I used to write proses unbothered by rules,
Poems with no assurance of being read,
Words just written to be free.

Now am I one of fools?
Fearing what comes out of my head?
Afraid of what others see?

Is this the curse of technicality?
Of knowing more about reality?
Bluff is that age comes with clarity.

Here is my **** to hell I send,
Existing is tiring year by year,
Is there anything more to feel?

I am far from the end.
But I wish I am near.
I have nothing time can steal.
sickophantic Sep 2021
can you tell my teeth are clattering?
taking your hand by the wrist, placing it
on the soft underside of my stomach
where only soft tissue lies between vital organs
and the negligible possibility of your cruelty,
i am letting you know: this is enough
to make the old animal of my body shake in fear.
keep your hands right there until they’re warm.
you can have this. you can have me.

will you stay after the curtains are down?
after taking their bows, i swear,
even the greats still look like people.
the well-dressed stranger in front of you at the checkout.
your cousin’s old piano teacher. and there’s a reason
why celebrity gossip sells more than the local newspaper.
here's the thing. you want to bare the darkness, the cancer;
to be loved, desperately, despite the horror of it.
but no one's ever willing to be the emperor --
you want to be the child, clothed.
tattling fingers forever raised.

it's always just been fog machines and fitting costumes.
your eyes, sharp and weary, search for a way
past the infinite charades, beyond the gaze of the winged,
half-lion abomination.
and i think i finally understand.
because your hands are shaking, too, as you tell me:
neither of us are destined for godhood.
next time, i’ll call you when i’m sick.
next time, i’ll take you grocery shopping.
tomorrow, i’ll kiss you in the morning and it won’t taste like mint.
does the idea of true vulnerability make you physically ill or are you normal
Frenchie Aug 2021
It's funny how the world spins
Even though we walk amongst pins
The needles buried beneath our skins
Our one of few hopes to salvage sins.

Agree to disagree
Though the world's not better off
Mask up, tone down
Zealots will forever scoff

So pray for your neighbor
Hold out your hand
The waves lapping against the Harbour
As the rats bring about the plague.
Please be safe, Vax or not. Do your part to slow the spread.
Strying Jul 2021
why is it the people I always check in with,
never check in with me?

And even when they do,
it is never more than a simple,
"how are you?"
god im so alone
my besties are in a different state rn and im just here like ??
hope you are all doing well and feel free to rant in the comments, this is a safe space <3
neth jones Jun 2021
passive

life feeds me medicine
suggests merit
and provides mirth, malady and misery
i graze accordingly
a simpering recruit to habit
life is precious pump and mental squeeze
precarious unravels of daring
a mad staring competition
at some hypnotic curl
and i am foetal at rest


aggressive

(spicy obnoxious moody life-
          -balled up around lunatic pull-
     -an overindulged sick stomach-
-a rag birth gift held onto-
    -a clutch of halted development)
Oh, Life ! such a brat
***** you & your horror of sacrifices
in the name of exploration
it's all just *****
and fluorescent
and shy of goal
Dominique Jun 2021
I bet you're #$@&%! other girls
who don't brush ***** out their curls
the type that rides santander bikes and
can't fall for people their mate likes, who
play piano when they say they will,  
and write about romantic things, like walking tightropes
blowing glass or #$@&%
! in your room in spring

I bet you read to them in Latin, bet
they think you're chatting... utter #$@!
and that there's fairy lights above their beds
where you've cuddled all their friends,
it's almost poly, am i wrong? platonic head, you all get on
yes, and they sing
and look like disney when they're close
they're milkmaids, pornstars, near divine
no plasters needed, they shave fine
;
anyway,
I bet he'd love to #$@& them too,
because they're handy with their hands,
they have craft tables or play the bass in some punk band
and when they go to galleries they understand
why some artists are grouped with others when
to me it's all whatever, i'll see them all whatever

oh and bless! their kisses mean things
and mine are ill-thought-out and grime
they remind you of the time, with me it's always getting late...
i'm an r/truecrime date-  ​
i think that dahmer's in my teeth
not great for someone scared of meat...

and when you, when you, when when, when, um, i

i bet you're #$@&%*! them and more,
i bet he'd love to do it too,
his ice clear veins like Finnish waters
your endless thirst for Athens' daughters
but i don't really want to know,
don't need you randomers to call;
no cigar shops, sketchpad summer,
not the clash or prop-up vogues
what i really need is sunlight
and myself
i miss her most
this was a rant in poem form and i thought it'd be funny to use symbol swearing to make it look more interesting, use your imaginations (though it did turn some stuff italic aha)
i feel miles better
Dinara Tengri Jun 2021
Give me solitude
Give me peace
Give me privacy
Give me space
Dibyendu Sarkar May 2021
The universe makes random jokes 
Like, to know me is a curse 
My personalities make it worse.

The introvert in me is ugly painted with gloomy clouds, stalking demons in the alley loves to mourn as a firstborn sick With numb eyes flick,
tears don't exist anymore.

The extrovert in me is silly painted with colours people never been seen, his smile is flawless and always wander around clueless about why he smiles.

The **** in me is a song or people like to call it wrong, a yearlong gong he writes 'lol' in people's wall with a fluffy cloud inside his brain, 
it reads tetrahydrocannabinol, 
notorious for his vocabulary,
can **** with an epistolary.

The Dib is a broken rib, spoon-feed bib 
He writes out of syllabus with sketchy nib,
runs in a solo trip his life says 'rofl'.

©sarcasticbong
A introspect.
Strying Apr 2021
If everyone dies,
why should I try to get an A?
And if humans are evil,
why do I try to be good?
do we not understand that the stress we put on ourselves is unneeded, u can live your life, or you can die, it's that simple.
Live hard or live easy depends on how people around you treat life.
Sadly, society is mainly made up of people who want complacent slaves who get good grades and end up working a 9 to 5 in an office.
In fact, people will judge you until you make it big, and even then people will keep judging you.
You can't be loved by everyone, and you can't expect that.
But, that should be the norm.
Why do we hate, when we can love?
Why do people make things harder for themselves?
It's like we want people to suffer but then complain when it affects us too.
ok this started out as a poem and ended in a rant so it's cool if u don't read, just idk where to put it all lol
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