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A Simillacrum Sep 17
I clean toilets
with no gloves on
my two tone hands.

I wondered why
I was born.
She told me this:

"So I wouldn't be alone."

I clean floors and
change a commode.
**** fills my nose.

I offer time
in an exchange
for my wage.

"I'm a ***** and
      I was born for this
         companionship."

I wondered why
I was born.
She told me this:

"I really wanted a kid."

Free agent, here.
I'm a bang for your buck.
Want a bargain?
Then you're in luck.

I can change a bed.
(Please take me in.)
I can tend a heart.
(It's what I was taught.)

I swallow.
(Oh, oh.)
I swallow.
(Oh, oh.)
Carl D'Souza Aug 24
Orange-Juice
tastes nice:
sweet,
hydrating,
with tiny nourishing pips
which squish on my tongue
as I swallow.
Ashley Kaye Aug 22
“Write a short poem.”
there’s too much to say,
or been said
yet to be
said


So swallow the penny
no one keeps them nowadays
August 22, 2019
swallow


I,
too,
swallow.

each groan
repressed
each longing
suppressed,
each nightmare
revisited.

the semantic fluid
stains
my teeth, my face,
no erasure endures,
tracks of my tears,
skin etched everlasting,
beyond camouflaging.

the weights owned,
that the scale
does not register,
stones of stones,
add to a total
that has no
agreeable total
but is a totalitarian oppression
of all day tongue depressions

oh god,
mercy from the weights
I have impressioned and digested
of own free will,
to misbalance my posture,
crook’d, my soul ever reciped,

stains collected,
each stain
swallowed,
see my markings internal,
you have never seen
until you have seen me
7/20/19
Connor Mar 5
I feel like life is just a pill I can't seem to swallow,
Swimming in my mouth, bitter, disgusting, I wallow
My first attempt at a couplet.
Aspen Welsch Feb 24
Stop looking at me
as if I’m some
- thing
to swallow up
or spit out.
A berry, black, swollen
ready to be chosen for your
consumption. I sour on your
tongue, assaulting your
taste buds because you
thought the only
- thing
that mattered was the purplish black,
the juice that produced for your
pleasure, my ripe, plump bumps,
my green hands
outstretched ready and there, for you?
Still you pluck and **** and stare
and **** me up with your
barren compliments stripping
my sweet substance
one by one
by one, you
extract it out
of me
Well, you're swallowed by isolation,

And you call it 'peace'.
Latifah Nov 2018
Mother,

Please forgive me
For the person that I have become
Is not someone to be proud of
But your absence
Is a kind of torture
That I never tasted
And I can’t swallow
It chews me alive
Everyday.
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