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Isaac Apr 17
Atlantic thoughts of fish, schools on schools
what could be better than this, living with no rules
dog days, your cute face, fresh fade, cityscapes
romantic thoughts again, texts on texts
what could be better than this, living the loveliest
warm nights, green lights, divine touch, just rough enough
just how I like
Sitting in  my alleyway
I watch people every day
They see me in my cardboard box
I hear the things they say

It used to bother me, but now
I just let them look and pass
I used to beg for their spare change
But, now I do not ask

I think that as they pass on by
It's my situation that they see
Homeless, living in the cold
They're not seeing me

Some stop, and stare in silence
They don't have the words to say
they see just what they want
While others turn away

Some who pass, they cross the road
On to the other side
They'd rather think I don't exist
Although it's here that I reside

I think that as they pass on by
It's my situation that they see
Homeless, living in the cold
They're not seeing me

If you ask, I'll answer
I'm a man, I have a voice
Although I'm in this alley
I am here by my own choice

Alternatives are out there
But they are not for me
Remember, it's my situation
Not the man I am you see
rew Sep 2021
At first his kisses mere filial pecks
around my ears my cheek and throat
so far removed from those of ***
but soon his eyes began to gloat.

His lithesome weight should comfort me
my only clothes a dressing gown
he squirms this open with brutal knees
same eyes as mine a deep dark brown.

He grasps my hair, eyes open wide,
twin grips of an owner's embrace
he'll make me be his loving bride
my eyes above almost my face.

He cries out Mom! I whisper, son
trembling at our sweet loving fate
belly to belly becoming one
whimpering as he *******.

When he is drowsy at the last
I'll pet him as a mother should
and clean him up from his forceful lust
with my tongue...
A work of fiction.
Erin Suurkoivu May 2021
Before that August--

(strange month                                        echo)--

bloomed in the east
sunrise bomb                                           sunset dawn

you sometimes
                                                                   rose
(unbidden)

to the surface
of my mind.

These were some of my triggers:

Calgary                                                     (always Calgary)
me too
Christmastime.

And all the times                                     you attempted
to reach out to me

(sucker punch                                          sleep ****).

And then that August--

(good mornin'                                         bombshell)

the news--
for shame.

For I had fallen for the lie
(while you talked all the while
                                                                 in your human voice).

So you like 'em young.
So you like it rough.

August sun                                            beat me down.

It took this glaring
of a light

to show me
the darkest                                             of men's natures--

and that I knew them
intimately.
Naya May 2021
I see your beaming light
I see safety in your arms ahead,
I'm coming home to you.

I sail towards you,
I am so happy.

but you turn your light off,
and I see nothing.
all that's ahead is darkness amongst these crashing vigorous waves.

You send me away,
so far away and I don't know why.

I drift endlessly into this unlit sea,
along with these bewildered thoughts I have of you.

I sail away,
sadly so far away from you.
LC Mar 2021
a memory wrapped its cold, rough hands
around my throat, squeezing it tightly.
as I tried to walk away, the memory
stuck its foot out, blocking my path.
I could only muster a pitiful squeak
as I fell face first onto the ground,
and the memory fell on top of me,
effectively holding my body hostage.
its hands were still on my throat,
but it was invisible to everyone else.
they only saw me fall to the ground.
they asked me what was wrong,
but I did not have air that could
breathe life into the powerful words
that were begging to leave my mind.
a sheet of paper suddenly appeared
underneath my right palm,
and a pencil rolled my way.
I gripped the sturdy pencil with
every ounce of strength I still had,
steadying the paper with my wrist,
and I wrote the words I couldn't say
so they would stop begging to leave,
even as the memory gripped my throat.
as I kept writing, I noticed the memory
stopped feeling as heavy on my body.
it was getting ****** into the paper.
it resisted at first, but after a while,
the memory slowly let go of me
and relaxed into the pencil marks.
when I had no more words left,
I picked myself up off the ground,
placed the pencil above my ear,
took the paper, hugged it to my chest,
and walked away with a smile on my face.
Cait Mar 2021
When you look into the mirror what do you see
What do you notice first
Your eyes
Your hair
Your lips
Or do you simply notice you
When you see that mirror there
Are you drawn to it
Drawn to the idea of seeing how you look
To see how everyone sees you
Are you drawn to the mirror that lets you see
Lets you see the beautiful array of colours in your eyes
Lets you see how your face crinkles when you smile
The mirror that lets you see what you yourself cannot
Without a mirror we cannot see our outward appearances, we cannot see our eyes, our smile, our face, or our body. Without a mirror, we rely on the person we know we are. We do not rely on our appearance to make people love or hate us. We rely on ourselves because we know who we are, and we should love ourselves for exactly that. We should love who we are.
Preeti Verma Feb 2021
Words often fail me
When I need them the most
Then I let my mind just be
My thoughts, sailing through the coast
Are waiting to be your own
Let's make memories good n bad
Together as we grow
Here I am sharing with you
My first words
When I was not in blue! !
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