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mjad 8h
Of all the fun I've ever had
Almost all I've never told you
From getting tattoos
To house parties with my crew
Almost all I've never told you
Seeing rappers you hate
Spending more than I earn
Staying out till the suns back up kinda late
Crashing at boys houses and talking to their mom
While smoking cigars and sharing more than lip balm
My friends knowing all the stories I've never told you
But you never knew, never found out about
The times I don't want to forget
You don't know about them yet
And my only regret out of all of it
Is that I can't tell you one bit
Part 4 to "Fun"
hannah b Sep 23
i am a hypocrite

for a long time i wanted that word tattooed
somewhere on my body and i still do,
i think.

i cherish my ability to value the
wellbeing of others above my own…
that’s not why i do it
but that’s how it seems, isn’t it?

doesn’t my own lack of motivation
seem so **** selfless?

hypocrites only run into trouble
when they make it obvious.
for some reason, not heading your
own advice makes people very
upset with you.

i do it because
when the fall leaves break
off the trees and there’s
crimson on the sidewalk,
crimson dripping from the palms
of our hands…

well, the winner would be
whoever threw the first punch.
Pyrrha Sep 20
I want to tattoo his love into the universe
So it becomes permanent and never strays

I wish I could wrap his words around me like a blanket
So on the coldest nights I can feel his warmth surround me

He like a safe place; a security blanket
He makes life feel surreal
The truth is
I don't want to ever stop thinking about you
But I have to
Or else I won't fall asleep at night
Or if I do
I'll dream only of your eyes
I don't want to think of you like that

And at some point
One of us has to look away
The world won't stop spinning
For our less than platonic moments
We need to move on
You surely seem to have no trouble
But I can't tear my gaze away
From your retreating form

Those glimpses I catch
Of you sitting in class
Might as well be poison
Injected straight into my veins
The softness of your hair
The outline of your face
Is a drunk tattoo in the front of my brain
One I can't erase

You're my heroine
Take or leave the "e"
And I might be a willing addict
But I'll go to rehab eventually
I'll force your face to fade
Covered up with inky flowers
Scattering my legs

I'll leave your eyes
Turquoise and green
You can watch me from the bushes
Peeking out from between the leaves
Like a fairytale character
I bet I'll wonder who you were
And what you meant to me
Title stolen from Justin Courtney Pierre. If this is secretly another cover I don't know about... Educate me, Captain.
achen Sep 8
you write as if all the letters
in the alphabet are scribbled in your mind,
and all the words are memorized.

you tattooed poetry in all the parts
of your body, and you help me to
let my insides be one of them.

poetry is stained in you,
but the blood of hesitation
in doing what you want remains
been a while... something from 2017
Amira Aug 31
The 21st generation,
A generation of rebels and fools they say

Because we are,
A generation that crackle at the face of the odds,
A generation with emotions etched on their skin,
A generation that jeopardizes oneself to meet society’s standards ,
A generation that hardly express emotions veraciously,
A generation that depend on narcotics to filter the pain,
A generation of fabricated souls in grave need to fit in,
A generation willing to risk it all for the intense feelings of love,

Perhaps there’s hope for us
this unfathomable generation
because every cloud has a silver lining.

Ylzm Aug 13
tattoos, the mark of Cain
instinctively inducing revulsion
stirring a mix of fear and hate
and of contempt and pity

today a common mark of man
mistaking individuality for identity
abhorrence for affirmation of being
and grotesque debasement for beauty

the mark of exile, rejection, and wickedness
now of fellowship, freedom, and choice
embracing the perverse to shock as all children do
now permanently etched, defiant without understanding

perhaps it is fitting and timely now
for the world is going the way of Cain
the mark of man is yet another sign
manifesting openly for those given to see
Panoply Aug 5
they want me to be happy
or else i’ll spoil the mood
so I pour the drink right over
kiss the boy, who’s honestly pretty rude
spin a bottle, bruised lips on hers
“come with us,” they murmur
as they beg me to get ink
so after downing a drink i
rides the bus with windows open
letting the poison air in
past watercolour rain
on buildings with blood stains
the sky looks so numb
and “let us have a little fun”
stumble on the sidewalk
i like the way you talk
tattoos, we’ll regret
“light a cigarette”
you’ll choke
but not to death
and we’re living life
always on the edge
Theo Jul 19
We've been rocky
like scissors and paper
fire and water
two opposites craving one thing.

The withered rose on my bed
caresses my feet
The petals remind me of a love
that used to be.

Your touch tattoed
in the back of my mind
Your smell imprinted and
laugh carved on my skin.

We've been rocky.
Jon Thenes Jul 11

[Note : i am flushed with heartbeats,
fast panic breaths
and thought.
i have overwhelming stream of ideas]’s ridden through in our flooded veins

it’s furnishing our museums

  it’s marred out on parchment

     it’s mated together in privacy

      [Note : i tighten my eyes closed for relief]



     tried and executed

    preserved in wetland peat

   it can be called out

without the feed of the moon

without the woe of the ocean

 [Note : i clamp my hands over my ears]




genetically vetted

it can be rutted out

  falling **** through the generations

    the speed of the molecule

   or flitted across our grid electrically





      morse distressed




  and invested against

through historical text

it’s collected in your visage

and yawned back at you

  off of your morning mirror

   it’s in your needings

    your trolling of prayers and personalities

     and the breaking of your vocal jockery

     [Note : i dry gag and go silent]

     information is energy

    not erased

  but converted...

   ...and then nothingness

    an unwearable yelling void

     expanding pressure-less



     the immense feeling

    of feeling nothing

   the code/no-code

  the necessary ill behind the facade

of the purpose currency

[Note : my thoughts slow,
i note my breath
and my heart]
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