What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from it's prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?
who's real and who's fake
people make my head ache
Drink. Drink. Write. Write.
Think. Think. Fight. Fight.
Drink to get drunk.
Get drunk to get angry.
Get angry to get passionate.
Get passionate to write.
Write with passion.
Write with soul.
Write with honor.
Honor thyself.
Love thyself.
Love your thoughts.
Cherish them.
Especially the thoughts
That make you crazy.
Too much thinking results
In too much entanglement.
Break free from the webs
Of hopelessness.
Fight your way through them.
Fight the demons in your head.
Fight the problems as they
Come along.
Fight the living on sour ground
In this bitter world.
Fight to keep to writing.
Fight everything until it is faded
Or gone
Like the smell of your woman’s
Cheap perfume.
But this bottle of wine is here
To stay.
And no amount of sleep will
Dissolve this hangover
I have today.
No editing, no giving lots of thought- just putting whatever comes to my head down and posting it. Completely raw.
What are we
To ponder and think
To walk and jump
To swim and blink
To process a world of information
To have extraudenary potential in every aspect
And to sit
For years
Behind a brainwash brick
To watch for years as we destroy our world
To smile as human rights are ripped by force from the innocent half a world away
We sit
And we watch
And we do
Into my house, he came, a prophet seeming,
not desperate. From the garbage to the knob,
and not robbed, but met with an intellect
so far from my understanding that I wept.

Sit a minute with me.
Let your ears be ears.
Let your eyes be eyes.
Gaze a moment in me.

Feel that which your words deny.

Into my mind, he came, a reader, he said,
but of the past. From the future of the world,
the wanderer spent his time on me, the wretch:
as far as he saw mine; not all wasted, yet.

Sit a minute with me.
Let me hear your heart.
Let beat yours in time.
Gaze up from upon me.

Feel the one common thread your edits deny.
For Harry.
Thank you for helping me.
You're right. It's no contest.
Amanda 3d
Lately I have not been able to sleep
Instead ride a dangerous wave
Thoughts careen around and back
Crashing into a rocky cave

Lie awake in bed and stare
At the ceiling or the wall
Thinking until I am almost numb
Until I cannot think at all
Relentless thoughts
I write to praise my fear
I write to numb my wounds
I write to hide my shame
I write to fill my voids
I write to console my heart
Which has a cavity
I feel every night
Before sleep sedates me
I write like a fighter
I fight like a writer
Words are vines
And my hands
My winepress
Makes the best wine
That levitates me
And makes you feel fine.
You're not alone!
Through pain and misery.
Write On, Ride On And Tell your Tale
I haven't wrote anything original in a while,
(They don't like your rhymes,
They don't like your style)

I can't write with a heart I don't possess,
(They cut open your chest,
You were too obsessed)
Kira 6d
I have so many words inside my mind
racing around my consciousness

I thought, I wanted, to be a poet
I didn't think I would feel so bottomless

I can't stop thinking about rhymes and signs
and what words seem to have the most feeling
"Do the words I hear inside my brain actually have any meaning?”

I thought, it would be, a way to express myself
A way to keep my heart beating

But the more that I write, the more words I find
circling through my head

They keep me up at night, not a soul in sight
Can I please just go to bed
I wrote this up pretty fast. I wasn't sure if how I hear it in my head is actually how it would be read. Let me know what you think?
molly 7d
If I think too hard

I can still feel their hands on my body
Four of them rubbing and squeezing and grabbing my skin
Desperate for my oblivious being.

If I think too hard

I can still feel the scratch of his stubble
As his skin rubs mine
And the other caresses me
Taking away my control.

If I think too hard

The world still spins
I can hear the moaning
And the distant sounds of nature
Outside of our tent, but so far away from my reality.

If I think too hard

I can hear their comments of praise
To each other
As I lay there blind drunk
And they do with me what they please

If I think too hard

I try desperately to shield the memory,
The three of us entangled
And together,
A trio of drunken disgrace.

If I think too hard

I cringe and cry
And my legs clamp shut
Disgusted at my stolen consciousness
And forever violated by my memory.

If I think too hard

I hate myself for what happened
I hate him for being drunk
And I hate the other for being selfish,
Breaking my heart and my trust
written during a very difficult time of accepting that some things you wished never happened, did.
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