Selfish girls with plastic faces
Lacking in all social graces.
Reckless boys, the glorified players wearing too much gold
Their meager skills have made them bold.
They see no harm in their brand of fun,
A generation of uneducated doomed to die young.
Destroying what remains of their feeble minds
A once proud culture left behind.
Bought too easily with paper lies
Drowning in ***** and ******* highs.
Watch as they proudly kiss life goodbye...

Guess it means nothing
95 or not
Drop out
Drag on
**** up

I hate this potential
Nervous burns wander my skin
Reciting old poetry

Expect nothing
I keep saying
Expect nothing

Remember the morning after
How we bathed in cypress
So we’d live forever?

I talked circles round your neck
And settled in the empty space your body left

You say you came back for me,
Yet here I am completely alone.
The day you came back to me,
It almost felt like I was at home.

I don't even know what to think -
Your silence has alarms sounding.
So I guess I'll have another drink -
I can't swim and I am drowning.

To you, I'm just not important;
You put everything above me.
I grab for something imported;
My whiskey always loves me.

So another line I start pouring,
As my feelings are faded -
It's six fifty five in the morning,
And I am ******* wasted.

-Corbin

the sand pours out my cracked hourglass
and into your cupped palms
claiming time you don't deserve
time better spent anywhere but here

how long must i waste my hours on thoughts of you
letting the water drip from my flask
as i try to savour each drop
in this emotional desert

the longer i let these wasteful thoughts linger
the less chance of finding my oasis
where the palm trees fan me in its shadow
and i drink from the reservoir of reignition

I've wasted much time on people who played games. People who don't tell you where you stand. People who don't know the meaning of "I love you"

All I could think about
Were all the poems I haven't written yet
And all the poems I'd already written that should have been for you.

there it is
that reminder
something is missing
though i never had it

what is it
it was a plan
i thought anyway
a task i need to do
maybe it's not important

is it real
did it exist
maybe i'm broken
is this a metaphor
is this moment my whole life
a string of useless empty thoughts

another day
another underscore

do you know the feeling
the twisted tremors
the slippery shivers
that linger in the
pit of your stomach
the feeling that something is wrong
the feeling that you
are left out
messed up
wrong
when you did nothing
and it seems that maybe
if given the chance
you could've done something
been somewhere
accomplished something
but the feeling in the pit of your stomach
only serves to remind you
of time wasted