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Ksh Nov 2019
There's a cigarette between my lips.
I taste the flavor, inhale the familiar scent
even before I flick the lighter to life.
There's something to be said about the difference
between the thought of smoking, and actually seeing it through.
I'd be the one to say it, but my mouth is currently preoccupied.

The first inhale is like a breath of fresh air,
which is ironic, given the nature of the vice.
But there it is -- a sweet escape, a brief release from the world that I've been in and decided that I've stayed for one second too long.
A dark, smoky finger invading my senses
as a cat grazes against your leg,
soft, but heavy; intending to make its presence known
with the gentlest touch, the murmurs of a purr.
It fills my lungs, and in a moment of hesitation
I feel peace as though, at any moment,
I could decide that I wouldn't want to breathe again.

The exhale is slow, the puff slowly escaping,
ascending to the heavens, dissipating like
dew on the grass on some mornings,
the fog that covers the skyline.
All that's left is the ghost of what was,
for a fleeting moment, an affair from the reality I've known.

And when the fire dies down
and the **** gets extinguished,
there is only what remains on my lips.
Nicotine, your name, whatever the hell it is --
I just know that it's intoxicating, addicting;
every time I run my tongue over chapped skin,
it's as if I'm chasing the very last time I've ever tasted you;
And every swig at the cold, hard rim of a bottle
makes me think of sloppy kisses on a cold winter night,
hands fumbling, nervous giggling;
of promises pieced together through incoherent moans breathed onto flushed skin;
Of empty sheets and ***** clothes,
no phone numbers to call, no names to tattoo,
nothing that can tie me to the possibility of a 'next time';
"Because there won't be a 'next time';
there can be no 'next times'."
But I guess --
I chose the wrong day to quit.

The cycle repeats, the toxicity stays,
and yet I revel in the concept of
not thinking, not planning,
just -- being.
In that moment, under the stars:
As if Time had stopped, and the sky was alight,
and I felt like I had the whole world
fit in the palms of my hands.

Because for someone that tastes so, so wrong,
you feel so, so right.
byron Johnson jr Sep 2019
One click, two click let's count them together.
One makes you happy but many makes you famous.
A house hold name is what everybody wants to be.
A face recognized by millions and a name worth it's weight in gold.
How many clicks can you get when honesty is all that is told.
How valuable are the memories once they are sold?
The price they would pay isn't paid in gold.
So why do we do it?
All it does is drive us insane.
Why do you care so much if others call you plain?
So you dance in many circles, You mimic birds and books.
You've had troubles in a space that comes straight from your looks.
Flipping through pictures of a story meant to lul people to sleep.
All for what instant gratification?
So many clicks from a stranger, I'd call that obsession.
An invasion of privacy but then again you let them.
Now all eye's are on you and all you have is aggression.
The bad out weighs the good.
It's currency is called depression.
We've spent all of the happiness on clicks and called it a profession.
As long as it fills our ears, the ones covered in LV.
They cost us so much and now we can't afford to lose.
Click three and click four look better than before.
Click five and click six and now your as big as bricks.
Keep counting you might make it someday.
You could be famous!
They already abhor you!
A place filled with toxicity.
Influence speaks with fluency.
Flaws are under scrutiny.
Opinions are mutiny.

Gossiping is trendy
and always up to date.
Colleagues are user-friendly,
greedy and full of hate.

If only I could stay at home
with no worries or headache, I would.
But it would be best to stay calm
while in this place, for family's sake.
This piece is about the struggle of the employees in a toxic workplace.
Your eyes were made
to glisten in the pale moonlight
and to sparkle when you laugh,
not to shed tears because of him every night.

Your ears were made
so that you can jam out to your favorite songs
and to hear your family tell you they love you,
not to listen to him insult you for so long.

Your nose was made
to rock a little silver nose ring
which boosts the self-esteem that he shattered,
not to be covered in makeup trying to hide everything.

Your voice was made
to declare your own happiness and find peace
by standing up for yourself and finally leaving,
not to be silent…just letting the toxicity increase.

You were made
to be happy and to be loved in every way.
You deserve better than the cards you’ve been dealt,
and I truly hope you realize that one day.
I wrote this a year ago as a pep letter to myself before I chose to leave my husband. I stumbled upon it today, and it brings back all kinds of emotions. Maybe someone can relate.
J Jul 2019
we never think about the impact one human can have on us as individuals.

the memories of you flash through my mind, like a projection. a live action film.

the smiles, the laughs, the loved exchanged.

everything was so simple.

now in the present, we both look into each other’s souls as if we are strangers.

as if all the promises, the touches, the euphoria;
were erased from reality.

my subconscious is evil to me, reminding me of the demons that plague my heart, you.

you once being the angel that was bestowed upon my existence by the universe, now resembling a soul ******* succubus, draining me dry of all i have left.

the thought that this movie that we call ‘love’ could suddenly come to end, tears the pages of everything i had written for this never ending script.

but i guess what i really have to ask myself is, did you ever really love me at all?

or was this meant to have an ending of tragedy?

the kind of tragedy that you never really have any answer as to why things happened the way they did, or what would’ve came after if there was a different turn of events.

now i look at myself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of a girl whom has drowned herself in the sea of love.

what is next?
J Jul 2019
feeling alone in the big world,
life is pushing me under.

starting to feel like i don’t matter to you,
or anything you could muster.

you feel cold.

you feel empty.

tell me what could i do to stop your heart from feeling so heavy?

i have the feeling you’re restricting truth,
even about the most minuscule things.

tell me why can’t you be honest?
is it something that lies within?

you have a tendency to be selfish,
while i give you my heart and soul.

why can’t i feel your desire to give?
is it because you are only starving to take? leaving me malnourished, while you are well fed?

if so, as much as it pains me;
i must leave from this barren well.
so goodbye my love,

as i continue to feel alone, in this big, cold world.
Bugi Jun 2019
Let’s talk about here and now.
I know you’re no longer in control of your own soul.
What changed you?
Was it the hole in your heart that caused your body to burn like a California wildfire?

Open up to me, please.
Tell me about your wildest dreams.
When I show you the darker side of me
What is it exactly that you see?

Do you not like all of my questions?
Do they make you squirm in your seat?
Tell me, please.

Let me fill that hole for you
Put out that raging fire
Cause the longer you burn
The bigger your flames get
The more I start to melt away.
Gracie Mar 2019
There’s toxic in the air
You can hear the footsteps
They are always lurking
For their next pray
Pulling you in
Then
Pulling you out.
Pushing you down
Pulling themselves up
Until you finally say
No
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