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Spicy Digits May 3
Chase your tail
Chase your tail
Heel on neck
She will prevail

Sacrilegious fun times
Cowardly Sundays
Spent in mourning
Singing hymns about crimes

Nights of hedonism
Days of dissociation
Baby birthed a daughter
Before opening her legs
To leftism

Douse the unbelievers
And pass the match
Watch them light us up
In self-righteousness

Spit at us cruel kindness
To bathe us in false prophecy
Ready devices of your fathers
Pointed in hypocrisy

Chase your tail
Chase your tail
No longer master
She is your hell.
neth jones May 18
with unencumbered pink flourish she strips knickers down and dress shruggled brisk over her head a flit of no patience for my timid bow she clocks my eyes senses are abled then blasted overwhelm with her **** light it radiates exposed armpits huff glowing mist her groin blazes at me stricken to match but my male has no luminosity and no athlete or brute *** form either she must have liked our bar dance or the alcohol defect or she might even have bin soft for the random humour i worded her wooded way she reflects and we are minded and shyly i lump off my boots scuffle my clothes to the ground and embrace for the pacts effect everything becomes animal our playful selves step in take sleeve over us makes us kinetic cadaverliers strobic and i’m all muzzle and snout oder out of control and slurring eyes and hooked hands grubbing foreign soft hummocks and we brandish the moon and charge on frantic stimulus it's all fleshed out in front of us this splay
He lives in fear of the cobwebs of time
wrapping themselves around his eyeballs
stopping him from seeing what others see
those who avoid dark shadows and pitfalls

For the cracks and corners of most of life
remain a mystery regarding the nuance
of how everyone else seems to exist
in various tones absent for him
Some people's minds are differently configured and much regarding interpersonal relationships remains a mystery for them
Zywa Jan 19
You should be yourself,

but don't bother anyone --

that's the condition.
Novel "Maurits en de feiten" ("Maurits and the facts", 1986, Gerrit Krol), § 23

Collection "Wean Di"
Mays Benatti May 2023
Dancing to the rhythm of this universe
Beautiful organic chaos
Grateful for the lessons
Deep in a pool of elysuim  
A wounded healer in progress
Prancing on a satin thread
Constructed of multidimensional facets
Allow to amend the social poisoning inside our boundless vessel
Francis Nov 2023
“A mobster”
“Tony Soprano”
“Something out of Grease”
“John Travolta”
“You’re gonna whack me”
“A Greaser”
“The Godfather”
“One of those actors”
“Pauly D”
“A state trooper”
“A cop”

Want me to,
Tell you,
What YOU look like?
My entire life… because of how I style my hair and how I dress.
Devil Atticman Nov 2023
First I was disgusted:
It was you that I despised,

And now my edge is blunted:
I am terrible in kind.
My experience with living in society.
Fredy Sanchez Oct 2023
With the sweat that drips from the back of slaves,

Whipped to the death with debts for the pennies their master saves.

With the tears of all those mothers whose soldier sons were taken,

And were promptly returned, empty shells, to their core shaken.

With the lost innocence of a kid, forced to lie to himself just to fit in

Coerced into being trapped inside his own skin.

With the painful truth behind the anguish

hidden behind the tears that fall from the face of the almost vanquished.
Zywa Aug 2023
I ring the door with

my handbell and I'm welcome --

because it's mý bell.
Novel "The PowerBook" (2000, Jeanette Winterson), chapter "EMPTY TRASH"

Collection "Truder"
Grace James Aug 2023
I see strangers on the Internet
talk about healing their inner child.
It made me go inward.
and think
and think.

About little me.
Three, five, seven years old.
What she wore
what she ate
what she watched on TV.

How she danced,
twirled on and on
without a care in the world.

And as I saw her in my mind's eye
and felt her in my soul,
my heart was filled with a Great and Terrible Sadness.

Oh, how I've failed her!
I've abandoned her laugh
her warmth
her light.

I traded her valiance for fear,
her voice for silence.
Her smile and bright green eyes
for a dull film over too-pale features.

Oh, my poor, sweet child.
I am endlessly sorry.
I have failed you.
Failed you.
Failed you.

Those strangers on the Internet
want to heal their inner child.

But now
I wonder...
Can my inner child heal me?
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