I'm frequently told to
'Stop and smell the roses'-
I have hay fever.
Also, I were to stop, I would no longer be moving so
My mind has more time to fill itself up with the little thoughts,
The ones I'm walking the streets to forget.
Rose is one of my favourite scents but
Every time I try to take it in
My cheeks swell and my eyes water;
I'll just stick to being a walker.

I wasn't aware of this, but the nose must play an important role
In the improvement of mental health because
I am also told to
'Wake up and smell the coffee'-
I don't want to wake up, though I will,
And I can't get out of bed, so,
Could you just bring me a coffee?
It might inspire me.

Within the cover of night I am sitting;
-Doing anything other than sleeping-
In bed thinking about what if somebody told me to
'Wake up and smell the roses',
I'd take that as an order to kill myself.
Surely it's a death sentence
To do a combination of the two
Which I have already explained that I cannot,
Will not

Today, I did attempt to smell those roses,
And I bought myself a latte,too,
But all I could taste and smell was ash,
Which made me panic
Because it felt like I was burning alive and
I liked that-
Now I understand that cigarette smoke can sometimes be so potent, that it
Drowns the soul.

Tobacco is a substance of which, however, I feel I can relate to:
It's grown;
Briefly nurtured;
Labelled (with a warning);
Used by many and
Set alight by a temporary flame;
Used up in a puff of smoke.

I've only ever had my lips around a cigarette end,
I often wonder what it would be like with a cock, I digress;
Perhaps sex could get me out of bed?
Maybe I'll just read a book.

I wrote this poem for my own benefit in all honesty, it's just something to help my mind unravel itself

me too.

six or seven years old,
on my Little Mermaid bed,
playing doctor or predator,
with my innocence.

me too.

eight or nine years old,
in children's church groups,
asking me why i didn't shave
or wear a bra.

me too.

eleven years old, it's the
holiday season, you're my
favorite uncle, so why do you
stroke my breast and cradle my

me too.

in high school, everyone's doing
it, it's not a big deal.
you're such a prude, why can't
you just send me a nude?

me too.

in college, you convinced me
i'm mature enough, i'm old enough,
so why did i feel so terrified to say
no? why did i cover my eyes and bite
my tongue?

Vague, but there. It's enough. Over two decades, multiple men, one survivor.
Britney Lyn Sep 9

I still love you.
But only in my dreams do you truly love me back.

Please, if you haunt me dreams do not wake me. I cannot face the reality of us.
TM Sep 4

I spent my youth
being pseudo bad

I did run away at fourteen
or fifteen
can't remember exactly

My dad broke
every part of me

he was an evil
evil person

he was liked
by everyone
that didn’t matter

A former pastor
of a church
in Guadalupe Mexico

(It) bragged
about how he could
spit his little magic
split tongue, enchantingly enough -

make people come to him
weeping for absolution

He was outwardly powerful
demanded your attention, persuasive
commanding projection


if you looked
behind his eyes
there was a molested boy
manifested into
a raging hate filled demon

shape changing

as if summoned
by an inner beast
rising above the skin
to inflict malevolence
on me, and you, alone

My dad had long fingers
and dolls eyes for children

they rolled around in his head
like marbles when he smiled at them

He died masturbating
on oxygen bottles

This is the most I have talked about him
and want to stop now

I floated along
for many years on drugs
acid, X, what-the-fuck-ever

We would drop sheets at a time
for weeks, months
at a time

I would do uppers

anything to fade away
I didn't care what it was

I just wanted to laugh
crack up

I would wake up in Phoenix
not knowing how I got there
next to skinny, white face makeup
goth girls with neon blue pussy bush

...rooms full of dicks on dicks
pillow cases covered in cum
lip stick and jewelry, sparkling
glitter-trans named Gene

I loved them

the weirder, the more fucked up
the better

I liked weird girls
weird friends
weird times

quirky, queer, broken, whatever

I ate out of trash cans
slept in cars
and abandoned houses with my shoes
and socks in my shirt
because shoes and socks were a big deal

...got really skinny
from the cans of freon
I was sucking

I loved huffing paint
out of worn socks
and on cans of freon
a fuck ton

If you don't know what
a fuck ton is…


you could taste the urine
in those socks
and didn't give a fuck

I would pass out
drooling all over myself

wake up with amnesia

for about thirty seconds
I was not me
I was not broken

I had a lot of fun

...didn't seem like
anything else to me

still seems that way now

I was arrested
when I turned eighteen

stupid really

I was trying to steal
DJ equipment out of a house

I have been vanilla ever since

I have aspects of myself
that are still deviant
but harmless next to real deviation

I feel more abnormal now
than I did then


I have grown comfortable
under my vanilla blanket

I have been institutionalized
by the system of matrimony

just as a prisoner behind walls
wishes to dig a tunnel to freedom,
is paralyzed by high walls and razor wire

Your correspondence
these last few days
have been glints of glitter

amnesia freon
and neon pussy

A gifted
artistic deviation
digitally thrown
over my high walls

…quickly hidden under my shirt
and snuck into the corners
of my abandoned houses

Needless to say,
your emails have been
a reminder of how weird I am

…and I love that you did

I miss everything, but mostly myself

Feeling rather off lately.
Must be time to stretch my wings.
Flutter up, and out,
above ordinary things.
I feel a chill in the air, and a feeling- that familiar glare,
of red and orange bokeh lights on the freeway,
dusty clouds over head,
waking up under the overpass of your love,
and the heart beat that
beats ahead,
ahead of the others,
ahead of the crowd,
it whispers, "Stand up straight,
don't slouch, speak up loud.
Throw off the familiar,
shake off the cloud,
run with the leopards and
leap with the deer,
unbind your icy feet,
and crush the new year."

-Dm 2017

Feeling restless again. I hate feeling like I am living the same day/week/year over and over.
Apollo Hayden Aug 15

Like neo in the matrix-
hand up, palm out to stop the bullets being sent my way.
In mid air, inspecting and reconfirming with self, seeing this for what it truly is.
Some stay comfortably asleep, always revealing their true selves when you're seeking knowledge of self;
the agents of the matrix tryna sabotage and block the progress.
Still plugged in, believing the lies of this manufactured world.
Speaking through harmonic tones from one of the four chambers of the heart,
planting seeds in the ears of those who choose to hear, always hitting the mark.
It's the
poetic mystic,
swimming in the subconscious whirlpool created by two fishes;
two eyes closed and one open in triple black darkness, letting intuition lead,
In tune with the feminine energy, listening attentively.
With the Oracle I speak deep within my dreams,
fighting to recover forgotten history while they wishing that I would just shutup and go back to sleep,
but this soul burns with a desire to seek truth and so I continue to seek.

Brett Palmero Aug 10

I don't have to live in my dreams
When I can make them a reality

All it takes
Is getting up

And telling yourself
I choose to be happy

I'm low on energy
But I've got fire in my heart
I want to wake up from this sleep
My head is filled with water

The fire can't reach my mind because my head is filled with water. It stays below in my heart and has dimmed. It needs oxygen so it can grow and evaporate the water. The water makes me feel heavy, low on energy, and in a fog.
Hannah Jun 19

Medicate a generation,
So no one wakes up or asks any questions;
I'll take the pills because the truth doesn't make this worth living,
and I'll take the drugs because I'm tired of living a lie.

© John Paul Fraser

He achieved great things.
   And so did she.
     They stopped wars; Fed the hungry;
       Clothed the naked; Cured diseases;
         They chased after their dreams
           and in doing so they changed the

                What motivated them?

                 They knew that time was
               They knew there was no
              negotiating with time;

            They knew that this World was
           waiting impatiently for them to
         reunite with the Earth from
        which they Arose.

      Every night they whispered a
     reminder to each other;
       'Time is  r u n n i n g    o  u  t'

   Until one night it.
Go now, child! Do it!
Change the world around you!
We don't have much time.

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