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how would you like it

the bartender
sighs the lord’s name in vain
understood the slurred wittiness

wobble onto stool
****** over
joining the rest of the line


the sound
system jests that one song
about a breakup
puke on the sofa next to your carpet

it’s yellow
swayed hips
shoulders give way

diluted In and Out closed
turn over


to the Devil’s dance floor
where a pretty **** Frenchie took your wrist
foot strikes a patch of ice
popped cherry on a yellow wheel stop

get up dizzy
scrape on forearm
the impassionate spring fever

wrapped around neck
constrains body against


hands stroked rock hard back

she asks if she could have a stick

reached into baggies
pulled out a yellow
she takes halo
you took halo

got into the convertible

a silent triumph when you insert your key


by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
A fragmented memory
Pulse Apr 19
why can't we just be friends?

(why are you doing this? why can't being friends be enough? i don't have anything more to give you why do you keep trying to tear me apart, why are you looking for more. why am i not enough)

you're worrying me

(i don't know how to help)

please talk to someone, anyone.

(i can't be your therapist, you don't listen to me, you don't care, you just keep throwing me into the horrible reaches of my psyche and hurling words shaped from barbed wire and sharpened steel, expecting me to take every hit and then take all of yours.)

this isn't healthy and it might be more than i can help you with

(i can't help myself how can i help you?)

wait, i'm sorry, please don't leave

(god we both need so much help.)
I want to take apart my skin
when the sun is too bright
and the world is too full
of people who will never know me.

I want to open the rivers
inside my wrists and empty them;
to pour myself away
the way I pour whisky
into my empty stomach,
and my hypothermic limbs
into stranger's beds.
©Nicola-Isobel H.      10.04.2019
Louise Feb 24
i hate you.
and it’s not just in my mind.
i hate you.
and i feel sick because of it.
i hate you.
and there’s no way to make it right.
i hate you.
and i‘m so ******* mad at you
for making me feel like this.
i hate you.
now please, don’t blame me.
my self destruction was all your fault.
nat Jan 30
yr parasitic brain
doesn't understand things
without a beating heart
if there's a life to steal
you'll **** it away
but i can't blame you
you were born to destroy
anything with a pulse
including yourself
i'm not ******
i see the teeth marks on yr thighs
have you got any more spine?
any more nerve to **** me?
i don't try to stop you
i hate the feeling of being alive too
this *****
try to be productive, but it's
hard to come up with the energy when
the only gift I may possess, my
words cut like a razor's edge and
leave me bleeding

with every negative thought,
another laceration



(my ears are ringing)

"but wait, there's more!"

now comes the replays,

all the times I wasn't there

when I was really needed

(legs feeling weak)

all the people that have left this world

their faces

( I want to curl up in a little ball)

the last time I saw them, and my

mind struggles with that, incessantly

(I no longer want to exist)

until i'm too shattered, too
to drag my *** out of this
I don't know how much longer I can do this
Like a moth
Is attracted to light-
towards self destruction,
I'm attracted towards
an unknown reverie.
A venom has handicapped me
forever; venom of
contemplating nameless worries.
Dreams of demise,
laughter and joy,
coughing up blood,
as we go about,
celebrating wars.

We revel in victory,
with blood-stained faces.
As we wrestle with our demons,
as we choke on our own blood.
It's human compulsion,
to seek satisfaction,
from laughter,
from tears of joy.

As the world comes to an end,
someone will shout,
"Drink and be merry!"
"For tonight we dine in ****!"
A cliche,
a repeated glorification.

Laugh all you want,
as you shield your eyes,
and open your mouth.
Disregarding your death,
you try to live with a smile.
Be it with yourself alone,
or with families and friends.

Have a beer,
don't be tense.
It's just fear,
and innocence.
Cry a single tear,
jump the fence,
it's coming near,
our laughter and dread.
pain, agony, all the teenager-y angst, the edgy meme lord, the one who uses humor to hide his depression, the teens who glorify wars, the enlisted boys who got won over by propaganda, the sadness of a failing first love, i've spat out what most of use have in common; our spices of youth.
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