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Long ago and far away.
I drank a glass of wine one day,
But I was allergic to grapes,
Wine o'clock for me don't rate,
Just listening to you is enough,
Whine o'clock now, tough!
Feedback welcome.
Faith Dec 2018
Sometimes all I want
Is to go home
Sorry this is so random. I'm sitting here crying like a baby about wanting to go home with my parents instead of stuck at my Grandma's.
Anya Sep 2018
I bemoan the negatives
of something
to feel good about the positive
And then
I almost
hate myself
for it
Virginia Kasmi Sep 2018
We sit across each-other in our favorite bar,
discussing if the glass is half empty or half full.
But darling, we seem to not be able to realize,
that the empty ones are we,
trying to fill the void with whiskey and coke.
We pour sparkling wine into our hearts,
just so we can pretend we are not broken.
We sip until our head starts spinning,
giving us courage to finally go home.
The cab driver turns up the music,
so he won’t hear us kissing on the backseat.
But our thoughts are even louder.
We press our naked bodies against cold mirrors,
because it is the only way we can give each-other goosebumps.
Exhaling sharply we melt down on the hard ground.
We hug so tight, our bodies form the most komplex knot while we cry our pain out.
K Balachandran Sep 2018
When first-rain drenches the trees,
Mango trees full of blooms whine,
Rains wash down the pain!
Bryce Aug 2018
In the linoleum dungeon
Sparkling swiffer creature
Squirts the floor
Calls polyphemic odors

And the crazy stench of allspice
Biting lime and draconian breath
Burning the nostril coins
Copper shield bending the cilia
Oven mitts plastered with narcotic grease and decomposing meals
Of yesteryear
She speaks between steaming inspirations


Exhale the fire

It's'a hotta pasta lasagna
As the helicopters flap their handy rotories
Fast fractal birds
In circumfereferential motion
Cool down our mouths
Ice cubes in the juice
Plop a shot of gin
With that silly child's grin

And the room slowly cants
Begins to spin
As we laugh at the spots we cannot

Staring at the stellar mountain chains
Thrusted stone
Busted metal
Stabbing up into the sky

Where is the home beyond the horizon
Where we ate good meals
Not made alone
With parental guidance
As the days were stolen
By the erosive time
That spinning wheel


It's deep in us now
And the cells metastasized
That heaven is hell.
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