my spelling has been rather poor of late
from the words some letters were omitted
this day I shall not goof up on my slate
those grave mistakes won't be permitted
a friend did tell me to smarten my act
she said she'd observed so many errors
in my compositions this be a fact
she stated that I must stop these terrors
by employing greater concentration
on applying my pen to my lines
exact spelling is a good validation
using this tested way I'll not get fines
to-day no letters have been forgotten
henceforth my pages won't be so rotten

luqz May 25

I am putrid in all forms
Layers of disgust and angst,
I back out on any occasion; and yet,
I feel enjoyment behind the vex
Nevertheless, it is natural to blame the suspect,
While I blame the victim, whose sin is odious
The foul causalities, abnormalities,
Are part of a play by the master of puppets,
We dance around in the shadow they cast,
It was nice until it lasted, until love evaded,
I became apathetic and prone,
Until I became rotten, behind the phone.

Should I care for you, now that you're heartless? I always thought we could be friends. Where did this go wrong?
Alice Wilde May 13

I think of taking my hands
                                                                      And ripping - splitting - cracking,
                                                                                                My ribcage in two.            
                                      The breastbone splintering apart,
                                     My torso opening like a rotten tree.

                                                                                                  Colors oozing out
                                                                                        Or the inside hollowed,

Like a lake that has been emptied.

                                            -I've convinced myself that
                                                     Fragrant flowers
                                                   Would grow there.

                                                                       That they would grow feverishly
                                                                                               In the gnawing gap
                                                                                                That I had created.

And that time would preserve
What I had done.

It is not some dusty frame,
            hanging rusty nails;
                        chaotic mess.

            No es amor solo amar, to you,
                      just some language you,
                                can't comprehend.

Distraught, despaired, disheveled,
                a dystopian novel notion,
                     There's no need;
you don't need to patronize.

Cold hand upon cold hand;
       lifeless smiles colluding.

                                 And as if you were a Monet sunrise,
my impression of you is that of drunken brush strokes,
                                                        ­                   dull blues,
                                               and angry orange hues,
Left on display within a rotting, wooden frame.

You can't fix something that's not broken,
you can't change someone who doesn't want to change,
you can't decide how a person should be,
you just simply can't,
is it so hard to see?

You walk around and try to control everything that comes your way,
you're shocked when someone doesn't do as you say,
you think you're God and that we should all obey,
the truth is no matter how much beauty you endure,
you'll never be anything more than what's inside of your soul.

Your soul is darker than the night,
your heart is as cold as ice,
I'll never fall for your spell again,
You're just a devil in diguise
Nothing more, nothing less

If somebody here needs a change,
look in the mirror and watch it shatter.
You're broken and bruised,
and give others abuse.
You're living proof that the outside is no reflection of the inside...
Beautiful outside, rotten inside.

Andrew May 2014

Not exactly proud of it
Just don't have the time

No teeth or claws
Nothing really but hunger

Not begging or choosing
Just desperate for something to eat

And when we find something, anything
It becomes disgusting.

But we don't care
We don't have a choice
It's not like we will get to see
Another day

So we feed.

And we feed..

My Dearest Reno Nov 2016

it's grainy, blobbed against my grey matter
rubs one out to my blinded neighbore, the hooker
clockwork how she turns the knob,
her man, her man moans with such disdain

she objects by cooking food that smells of shit!
my pen, now a horseshoe, laugh over whiskey,
my brow scowled but eyes are happy
poking your eye out with my sloppy brush;

create constant puns with a lunatic bell,
we put the glass up against the wall, in hush
look at each other with such disgust; its deathly moan
change direction, whiz out the door

...fluxed out and ask, "what the fuck is going on in that bed?"

dear gd, poor him...poor her? where's the damn joy?

“Love is like a reckless twin; I’m giving in.”
Scandipop on the radio,
The scent of marijuana hanging heavy in the air;
The fruits of my love lie wasted,
Rotting away,
Overripe and burdensome,
And I drink deeply from the sweet pools of wine
That gather where the fruits were bruised,
Either by their lesser fall,
Or their greater failure,
Having been inspected by most,
And rejected by all.

Inspired by Mads Langer's 'Lonely Street.'

Marked explicit just in case.
Andrew Durst Sep 2016

Tooth decay and
lie in cheek.
There’s a rotten
part of me
continues to
I am bitter
and this is
why I
wither away
rather than
fall to
I am a slow,
piece of
I am pale
and intoxicated
from all of
the pointless
we pretend
to have.

News flash
News flash
News flash

nobody is

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