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Jeremy Betts May 2022
I'm an open book with the tendency to get mistook and overlooked now more than ever cause the binding and the cover are extraordinarily ordinary
The frail, mousey lead character labeled fragilé and plagued with insecurity lacks any measurable or substantial substance, no originality, even the unremarkably troubled back story is unapologetically void of creativity
Absolutely zero structure to the flimsy plot lines leaving the majority unfinished and frustratingly empty, holes in the Swiss cheese history are aplenty, no matter the number it's always one too many, never held any water to begin with but regardless they surface constantly, scattered with no purpose throughout condemned property
The gaps in the sketchy timeline and the untimely flashbacks make it extremely difficult to follow, subsequently leaving the reader feeling uneasy, maybe even queasy
Couple that with the fact that the blood, sweat and tears that poor from me onto every page render every letter a blurry mystery
Ink rapidly bleeding beyond any point of legibility so I scurry into obscurity like the first bit of graffiti to hit the walls of a lost city
Or unlit cave dwelling residency that sheltered the beginnings of humanity, I don't say that metaphorically, this is all factually documented as actually happenin' to me
Completely being brushed over, over and over, leaves little to no room for closure, how could it be there is no retail value either even though I'm the soul owner of the one and only lonely copy
I must confess that honestly it's in rough shape visually, no secrecy, anyone and everyone can easily see, so it's insincerely looked over briefly with contempt and downgraded accordingly but unfairly
While momentarily left in dormancy to see if the monetary value to society rises any or will it be one to continually trend downwardly, accepting mortality
At this point breathing is just a formality, I know tomorrows not a guarantee so I scribble away feverishly, going at it tirelessly, throwing words around recklessly
Pointless? Quite possibly. Meaningless? Most definitely. Worthless? Well, how could it not be? I'd quickly place a bet on all three being casually mentioned in the book review, or what some of you might call my obituary
It could be and seems most likely to me to be revealed that it belongs in it's own category or at the very least a separate offshoot subcategory
OR, or, it could be disrespectfully decided to never even ever let it be represented digitally or physically in any online or city library across the entirety of this comically hypersensitive and ridiculously touchy country
They be watching over me shoulder every day as I dot every i perfectly and diligently cross every t, proofreading religiously so they take me seriously and can't use it against me
It's limited edition but surely nothin' special, hopefully still worthy of somethin', but here in reality it's realistically nothin' more than knockoff Gucci or black market Versace
Sounds fishy, I know, but what else could it possibly be when I have the answer key, it's literally my story, I not only wrote but lived every word you see and it still doesn't even hold any significance or importance to me
Every chapter awkwardly forced upon me, it'll clearly end horribly but I'm no visionary, not even close actually, would never catch me even trying or claiming to be
I just precisely record the facts on the spot as they happened to me no matter how bizarrely scary some happen to be, it's important to me that you see what I see
See, you'll see the cruelty in the issue that taunts me as it haunts me. The hot seat question then becomes can you possibly understand the conundrum that is me or even slightly comprehend my cursed duality?
A comedy turned tragedy then unfortunately forced to take the back seat immediately as people barbaricly laugh mockingly at said tragedy, the jokes on me apparently and I've never found it to be very funny
Notice that it both plagues my future and tarnished my history and I'm presently left with presumably only a falsely and improperly placed memory of happy
Remembered as nothing but the worst of me, my eulogy will most certainly read like a roast minus any dose of comedy
If you choose to take this journey and walk the path along side me you're more than likely to come to the same conclusion as me that the powers to be are stingy with the good karma while the bad energy is unnaturally loaded on all *****-nilly in spite of me with little concern for safety
OSHA be ****** apparently, all it takes is the thought of me being a presence in the vicinity of you and your family to make you question both your safety and my sanity at any given moment, occasionally I'll switch it up randomly to avoid the monotony
A painfully pitiful joke that seemingly seems to be getting worse optically, a ****** B movie parody of Steven Kings Misery, all pain, no joy, no money, I mean no interest, I mean no possibility of a remedy
A mocumentary if you will, but the pain is real still and it's going steady, a run on sentence dragged out endlessly through a raging sea of emotionally charged assault and self battery that continually thrash relentlessly all around me
The weight of my world has always been too heavy since all the way back in my infancy, flip to the first couple pages to jog your memory if need be, then take and make a mental note that today I'm pushing 40

******* that's a long time to knowingly be held in captivity,  I've already been through it and the recap still surprisingly hits me hard with a backing of PTSD

Your cross is just a fashion accessory, my cross drags in the dirt behind me and wasn't set properly, shoulders barely able support it and I couldn't transfer the load any
So I grab a penny for each eye, yet another money based payment ritual for the ferry man to finish the last chapter the best he can with mixed in commentary from the peanut gallery that'll ultimately reveal my true identity and destiny hidden in the smoke screen of my twisted personality
The one predicted by the aforementioned conflicting and confusing history, though obviously if you've been following closely at all you've seen the rate of my fall and calculated it's trajectory down to the nth degree
It has always been and will continue to be aimed directly at the fiery lake for all eternity, not much different than where I reside currently so really I'm in no hurry if its more or less going to be the same scenery
I guess if you want to be a **** about it you could probably make the argument that my life played out accordingly, regardless, I'm getting what's owed to me cause I bucked conformity and normality, spit in the face of misplaced authority
Whoa is me? Yeah no, whoa is you buddy, you should worry because the last page doesn't mean end of story necessarily, I'll live on in your thoughts as something far more scary
See, I wouldn't be able hurt you or even touch you physically but I'll guarantee to use my literacy platform to completely destroy your psyche like what was so savagely and aggressively done to me, looking back that's all I see
I've sighted every atrocity three pages from the back glossary if you ever have the need to fact check me, again, feel free but know that my story board is messy, I'm not use to entertaining company
The facts get a little bit more hazy every day and where slapped together haphazardly with no rhyme or reason to what I have too say, not a thread of continuity, and you can go on and forget about decency, that word isn't even in my dictionary
I want to take this opportunity to openly welcome anybody that can hear me to read my diary, I've made it easy and removed the lock and key, humor me and start with my autobiography
Get to know your enemy, you'll find what to use against me personally but also what I'll do to wipe you from my minds eye permanently before you grace the pages of my memory
Take this as a priority mail special delivery type promise inside a threat spread widely through a reputable distribution company
And now, since having the rare opportunity to slowly but fully get to know me just a wee better, you must know then that to doubt me is stupid risky, just facts here, no theory of relativity
May I suggest you completely drop expectations and turn each page carefully, it's not for the faint of heart obviously, don't approach this carelessly or it could consume you entirely, but that's not my responsibility
Erie from the start, so it'd be smart to get ready, it's about to get heavy, prepare yourself mentally, this is the type of gory, all guts no glory underdog revenge ****** mystery story that wouldn't even make late night cable tv
Though it'd truly be funny to slap a PG rating on the first copy just to watch them fully lose their **** and collectively scramble to get said copy pulled indefinitely
Anyway, no movie adaptation in the works, no straight to DVD release party and that's all fine by me, I ain't even angry about it really, okay, maybe I am a little grumpy but that comes with the contemporary territory
Read it, don't read it, buy it legitimately or steal a copy, it's all the same to me, everything you need to know, and some **** you wish you didn't, is right here in the typography
From living righteously to becoming a bully to getting lost in my own hypocrisy, it's all laid out lazily for every single truth seeker and neigh sayer to see
There's nothing left to say anyway so pretty please, once free from the pages, can you finally, quietly but quickly, leave and just let me be me? I'd appreciate it emencly

Alrighty, let's begin shall we.

-Chapter one-

      Our story both begins and ends in the same fashion in that neither needed to happen and the fact that they both did changed nothin', a breath of life wasted on a nobody with nothin' left to offer but what's left of the shattered dignity and pride, otherwise emptiness resides and we'll be taking a look back through pain filled eyes, recounting the rise and fall, the crippling journey and what ultimately triggered this poor man's untimely demise...

©2022
Zack Ripley Nov 2019
The wind whistles as it whips down the winding street
Trying to knock down people
wary of the ice and snow beneath their feet.
The sky watching over them is still.
But it's a trap. A storm is coming in for the ****
StormriderIX Apr 2020
Sketchy.

Suspicious?

No
of course
not!

Sketchy!

Pencil?

Of course
I start
with pencil!

Sketchy.

What?

I'll sketch
a person,
of course.

Sketchy.

Hm.

It's a
person
on the run.

Sketchy indeed.
Suspicious enough.
I'm a bit of a jack of all trades in art. Writing, both fiction and poetry, and sketching.
Bryce Nov 2018
It is all fake sadness
Without cups, no sprite to collect the rains
We are an endless rolling fog
on the edge of the terrain.

We are foxes living in the suburbs
we are sneaky creatures not meant for fluorescent light-bulbs
and streetlamps
We are the oldest vulpines alive

I had been asked about symbology-- about flags and shapes and geometric plagues
I had to recollect the places in my head, London was a dime, Berlin was a teeter-totter
U.S.A was a great big long balloon snake

There wasn't anything left to say in the barbershop,
the razor blades dully buzzing,
no songs but the buzzing
of satellite radio

I got a removal done,
my deforested head could feel the wind caress it
I was a new and reemerged cocoon with a lacking self-confidence
I studied books and computers at Best Buy

You were a yet unknown quantity
you were god in the skies of San Ramon Valley High
Or perhaps the other prestige of some other village dream
You emerged and contained within the largest fib

Give me one good reason why
You deserve any more of god than the earth.
Sarah Burg Aug 2016
it's just fun now. for some reason this boy always knows what to say to get you hooked. this time you aren't actually hooked on him though. because this time he has made no promises like he did before. you are thankful because he never keeps them anyways. last night he said his usual line. "there is just something about you." you are confused but know not to take it to heart. lately you've learned to not take anything to heart. it's okay. you wish it wasn't like that. but it is. this time you told him that it would be casual. the sound of his breath on your neck reminds you of an old piece you wrote when you didn't know. but now you do. and so does he. he makes you feel good. he never breaks eye contact. he revs his engine when he drops you off because you told him that's what boys do when they think a girl is hot. he makes you want to roll your eyes and smile afterwards. he doesn't talk about the grey house with lemonade or the roller coaster hill or the fact that he once said he thought he was in love with you. but it's okay because he let you steal his sweatshirt and still kisses you goodnight afterwards when he walks you to your car.
Binary Code Mar 2015
The plaza is filled with creeps
Sitting along the concrete
***** smelly feet
Untrustworthy gas station meat

I lean up against the wall
See a man who's very tall
Beside an old lady who's about to fall

Granny stumbles around, dazed and confused
Doesn't even know which pills to choose
Asks tall guy which ones to take
Guy blows her off like candles on a cake

I interject, "Can I help you, ya old hag?"
Gran gran then opens the bag

I gaze upon the pills
The entire pack is filled
Stuff like this could go for many dollar bills

Granny says, "I need my Tuesdays."
I tell her, "Lady do you even read due dates?"

I don't know gran, you're on your own
You're gonna hafta figure this one out alone

Bus rolls up an somethins queer
Some pretty sketchy characters filling up the rear
So I take a seat up front, straight up Rosa parks
Weirdos left an right with their ****** birth marks

Guys with beards so long they could choke a man with em
Mexi with a ****, two others smokin with him
Many oddities line all up and down the bus
So I turn my frown upside down and try not to cuss
Just another day at the plaza in Spocompton.
Ashley Williams Jun 2014
Baby-faced,
Shifty-eyed;
Briefly my heart raced,
It can't be denied.

Sweet,
Sketchy,
I thought it would be neat,
But it turned out messy.

Here's a tho(ugh)t:
I hope you know you had your shot.

— The End —