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Joshua Haines May 2017
They say we're degenerates
as we walk with sore shoulders,
flimsy backs, fractured dreams.

The word millennial is used like
some derogatory word --
we're meant to feel like ****
because our parents failed us.

Because smartphones help us
release dopamine.

Because we're addicted to
virtual realities.

Because we **** strangers
that we hope validate us.

No one understands why
the news says this about drugs
and this about violence -- or why
we do 'those things' and if we
have any '******* sense'.

It's beyond them.
Maybe beyond us.

It's higher than our weekends;
lower than our expectations.
Saint Audrey May 2017
It's often the weak
And seemingly frail
That find themselves thirsty
Beyond the pale

The gutters churn under the strain
Blood rushes down through city veins
The streets ablaze with tinted moonlight
Devoid of any flame

As gods and heathens burn the same
The hearts all pumping without aim
No lungs to fill, and yet still choking
On the meat we flay

The needle drops
The records play
Everyone stops
Praying that the day might break

My iron rusted
Hinges combust, dusk bled
Swung open portal
Stifling chortle I open up
Progressing slowly
In soul or sprit
But running fast and flowing

Over strewn corpse cobbles
Harbinger paver, larder baubles
Stocking lye
Stalking eyes, new crime
Commit to the violence or ****** die
Perish inside then out
It's no use gasping or
Grasping
Stranger clout
 
Each new version a variant curse
Every cursed being awaiting rebirth
New age swift death
My time is little, I have **** all left
Gliding abreast
The beast glisten already
Peeter out slice and grip
My jowls are aglow
Siphoning light from the sky above
The creatures of the dark sky rip
Beneath my leather
Each new stab a death blow

I feast
**** them all
I rip out their ******* guts
And mash them
Flesh blood and bone complete
Cycles though my very being
Tearing rending breaking
Everything
**** these dogs

The heart of the city
A drum
Plucking tendon
Plucky young thing

My weapon is serrated
My steel is ****** already
I played alot of dark souls before writing this, so....
Itzel Hdz May 2017
Cielito lindo te escribo por que te extraño, para decirte que las cosas que dejaste se están llenando de polvo, no las he tocado por que la manera exacta en que dejaste todo por aquí y por allá me recuerda a esos discursos tuyos, largos y cambiantes. Me he cubierto con ese enorme suéter de lana que no soltabas mientras estabas aquí y que terminaste dándome aquel día que se acabo la leña para el fuego. Vyvyan me ha traído tus viejos discos de vinilo, me contó que tu tía Hilde se encuentra mucho mejor. Ayer saque a pasear a Balzac, no es lo mismo sin ti, cuando pasamos bajo el puente naranja espera con ansias jugar en el pasto mas allá de las escaleras de concreto, pero sabes que yo no puedo bajar ahí como tu lo hacías. Espero que el cobertor de colores que te envié te haya servido, no se como pases el clima allá. Añoro tus abrazos ahora que enfría tanto, me he empalmado de suéteres incluso el tuyo, pero este frió es diferente, me pregunto por que. Fui al medico por la gripe de Carmen y noto el cardenal en mi mejilla, le he mentido sobre el claro, pero creo que no se lo ha creído. Me acuerdo en este momento preciso de el jueves pasado, hacia las compras en el abastecedor de Darrell, había un anciano, no paraba de hablar, pero no se le entendía nada, deje a Carmencita en el carro y me acerque al hombre, me miro y me tomo por los hombros, me vio directo a los ojos, oh Noel si supieras lo penetrante que era su mirada, se callo un largo rato, y me dijo en voz baja: Usted debe saberlo, !Usted!, el hombre esta acabando con sus iguales mi querida señora, se devora así mismo ... pero...nadie hace nada. Me quede callada mirándolo asustada, y luego no supe que contestar, me soltó, volvió a su farfulle y alcance a escuchar que decía: para que mas querría alguien comida enlatada...
Fue tan extraño cariño, pero me dejo pensando y pensando, me gustaría saber tu que opinas. Quería decirte también que para cuando vuelvas podre usar ese vestido rojo que me regalaste, los golpes ya casi no se me notan, con un poco de maquillaje podría arreglarlo pero solo usare mis vestidos para ti, perdóname por aquella otra vez sabes que no se repetirá.
Te necesito tanto aquí a mi lado por las noches, he dejado a Carmen dormir conmigo últimamente espero que no te moleste.
Los días pasan como una película antigua, lento y muy confusamente, espero que puedas venir pronto, las heridas en mi espalda comienzan a cicatrizar, ha sido ya mucho tiempo lejos de ti no ¿crees? puedes volverlo a hacer para que piense en ti cuando me acuesto por las noches, o cuando me recargo en las sillas del comedor, sabes que no me importa.
Te envío todo mi cariño en esta carta para que sepas que no te olvido, que siempre te pienso, y que a donde mire siempre te veo.
Vuele pronto.
Siempre Tuya
Agnes
Nov 4/2012
Well this is not a poem but it's a little bit hmm lyrical(?) I think I wrote this because at the time I was in a problematic relationship, in which my partner hurt me emotionally but I stuck with him anyways for a long time..take care of you guys
You're waving your arms. You're trying to convince me that words are more than words. You're cracking open peach pits and looking for flies.
You're wrecking the car, darling.

We're finding places in the pavement to rest our heads, and all I can hear is: I told you so.

I'll risk the dying. I'll risk the trouble. I'll risk the risk. I'll take the keyboard and smash it against the wall. I'll call it a poem, and I'll miss you anyways.

Here, from the cracking ribs rattling toward something so close, so cutthroat, to the moment where you finally get to watch the bliss bleed out.

It's all just one big blood-pumping, give-me-now balancing act, and the things that see the walls of your fist are the feeling you can't shake.

So I will hold you tight and make a lunatic's prayer of you, the world in gloss and the *** you said made you holy. It's useless, but I still try.

Our hells may have been the same, but our heavens weren't.
There's something swimming down there.
Unseen, subcutaneous under layer and layer.
Malice in that silence,
venom in that stare.
laying in wait, to strike, break,split tear.

Peace as a siloullusion of the swelling act.
Waiting on reality's organic nascent,
unresolved affair.

Whatever it is that swims waiting for a chance,
in your terror askance.
Will soon break on out, too real for fiction:
to swallow you whole in it's gruesome glory.
alexis hill Apr 2017
perhaps life is
sharing more information with me
about this sensation
than what was done
before with that "physical"
kind of
love// language

words are not necessary
when understanding the
feeling of vibrations
in which are
brought upon me

both intuitively//
and instinctively//

this feeling is//
love.

the same feeling I was
taken out of
that is now inviting me back in//
Mane Omsy Apr 2017
Where would this end?
Wish they'd listened
Peace please descend
Would if I'm terminated

One hell,
Trapped in debts
Believe me, I'm trustworthy

Two hell,
It's too much pressure
You lost the trust in me

Im counting,
This mount is precipice
I couldn't lean upon a tree

Both ends heating up strokes
On fire, life is under a volcano
Let me burst the way out
And melt down into a rock
The perception of life under complicated circumstances.
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