kas Dec 9

i'm constantly stuck between
bones and blood and amphetamines
i keep thinking that
i can have it all if i just find the right scene
and i can see toxic thoughts like toxic waste
contaminating the oceans of my mind
a bitter aftertaste, a better nursery rhyme
the glowing eyes of my demons
reflecting off the blade of a knife
and the half smiling rings on the coffee table
are the only things keeping me
company at night
i never thought i'd ever describe pain as
"bright"
"vibrant"
"almost warm in the right light"
i'm stuck here, falling apart
a glass object breaking in slow motion
becoming bones before tomorrow starts
fissures turn to fractures, an explosion
kids these days call that abstract art
who i am hates who i used to be,
and who i was always wanted to be
this
a human typewriter who knows
how everyone's stories begin and end
a tree limb that never breaks, only bends
the back end of a horse
a street with a dead-end
a best friend a godsend
wind me up and watch me pretend
turning circles and spitting up my
heart on my bedroom floor.
"this is as good as it gets, my friend."

reckless
SwordNPen Dec 5

I put pen to paper every single day
and my pages still end up blank
I have no muse this deafness is
like a noose. Im living in a world
with no words. What can I do?

and
I miss the way I use to write constantly. the way words, feelings and emotions surrounded me, grabbing me ever so tightly. bringing meaning into my life. the way my words cut the silence, like a cut from a knife. man how I was so powerful and just so sure. now I find myself carefully choosing words. I think I lost sight of what it really meant to write. not so much thinking but just allowing my words to take flight. pulling you closer allowing you to feel exactly how I feel. shit so real, for a moment your soul is what I steal. I felt like I lost it, like I was just lost in the world. another being trying to find peace but my thoughts in a swirl. can i capture your soul like I use to do. of course I can. I was solely… made for you. I was made so you’d b able to feel me. for you to capture who I am. free willingly.
tap into my mind and inhale thee.
 well look at that, Im alive b

3 years ago

Staring at blank screen
Dark night and caffeine
From wasteland trying to inspire
Barren- and true to nature I desire
To have what I can’t hold
To possess what can’t be sold
Life to fill this mortal frame
Not with child but with flame
In vacuum of my own making
All things numb to stop me breaking
Can’t survive like this for long
I imagine myself strong
Force my eyes to adjust
Force myself to trust
That the night holds beauty in a different way
Revealing what can’t be seen by day
But see no purpose to this torture of my soul
Except I know I’ll be stronger when I’ve crawled out of this hole!

I can't write poems.
I know I can't. Everybody knows.

Poetry is for the soft ones.
For the hurt ones.
For the broken ones.
For the talnted ones.
For the edgy ones.

For the special ones.

And I am certainly none of those.

Pretty damn sad, huh?

Yet, poetry is for everyone.
Because... Art is for everyone,
right?
Because you're supposed to feel comfortable while writing it. While creating it.

Art is for everyone.

But not
me.

I know I suck at this.
I must admit I enjoy writing down my feels.
I must admit poetry is one of my favorite types of therapy.
But I also must admit I suck at this.

I'm not going anywhere with this poem, to be honest.
I'm just wasting your time.
I'm just wasting my time.

I'm a waste of time.

And I am so
sorry.

lndsytyn Jun 9

His love is dry toast
On a counter
And I'm chewing gum on a lawn chair
In the hottest trailer park in the country

My love expands in water
In the fish tank of your parent's house
Waiting for you to take me out
Or for you take me anywhere

Your love is a desk drawer with dry ink
Shining in the light of the lamp your dad keeps on his desk
The smell ruminates for years
Dull. Uninspired. But still haunting.

I don't remember a single interesting thing you told me
I don't remember what it's like when you hold me
I'll chew gum and wait for clouds
But I'm here for now

emme m Mar 14

it's like i'm swimming from coast to coast
but still i'm drowning everyday
by body is an unwanted host
that dosen't listen when i pray

it's like my soul is so tired
that it wants to exhaust
i'm mad and uninspired
i'm lost

Leigh Marie Mar 5

haven' written in a while
its not cause I haven' been inspired
just been traveling the world
and growing into myself
been growing into the world
maybe its cause I don' feel the same
pain anymore or cause I don'
think bout you anymore
which isn' quite true but I don'
think about you like I used to

Poetic Apathy.
Anger over the Environmental Policies
Of President Donald Trump
Has flowed into a dried up,
Toxic Lake Bed of Sorrow.

I lack the motivation
To do something
With this canvas

I want to fill it
With abstract colors
With disorderly passion

Yet uninspired and
without leading I go
And this canvas remains

Blank.

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