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Jade Aug 24
Blood clots avalanche
into the toilet bowl--

I read them like they
are tea leaves.

A confirmation
of what I have always
know:

my womxnhood

a testimony

of bad fortune.
Brumous Jun 6
What's to shout when you're all filled up and sad?
You weep like a newborn child,
Don't sit there like an idiot gone bad



No, no.
Sing it out, be mad!
Say it in a melody, make a beat
as if it's your only remedy

Express the sorrow and frustration
pretend it's your identity

Say, "Whatever, whatever"
Like everything will be in jeopardy
Such melancholy can never dance with me



If I stay forever as a child
living carefree and blind from reality...

If I become an adult with restraints
as I reach for a goal continuously...



No!
I'll just be this sick ol' me
Giddy, confusing, with a thirst for epinephrine,
naive but still learning
I was inspired while listening to neru's songs and tried to make a poem with the beat of those songs and made a reference. So, I'll put the title of the songs below. (I can't put the link since it keeps getting an error)

Life Prolonging Treatment
Re-education
FPS
Whatever whatever whatever
How To World *******
Man Jan 31
all the people i know
have stained my brain
with their misery and their woe,
don't they know?
i have them too
but i would never shovel them on you
it doesn't seem the right thing to do
when i could give you all love
and give woe the shove
i work it out myself
though there's still pain on the shelf
it's below me, not above
i have pain
because all i give is love
Evan Stephens Jan 23
"If I cannot bend the will of heaven,
I shall move hell."

Meadows of blood
are sluicing from my arm,

& courts of lithium
are bottled neatly.

This stream within me,
the red subliminal, latent,

needs beating back.
The noon sun kicks uselessly.

Something happened,
it had nothing to do with me,

it had nothing to do with
quiet cancerous woe,

nothing to do with the
underside of my mind.

I am quiet in the chair,
the blood-taker smiles at me

through alcohol bouquet,
compliments a yielding vein;

the blood pours and pours,
aching with subconscious.
Nolan Willett Nov 2020
I love the words that I read here
The ones that you leave spoken,
Your hopes and loves, doubts and fears,
The thoughts you write upon being awoken

Offering perspective,
Through a page, to see your reality,
Concocts a connection:
The power of empathy

Old, young, the chained and the free,
And especially the pariahs,
Whose words read to me
Like a personal Messiah’s

I read them from my bed,
Words of comfort, words of woe,
I suppose I could just leave it unsaid,
But I wanted to say hello.
Man Nov 2020
there were oil stains outside his house
where the car had sat
like the stains,
he bore marks
little pocks
that had worn on his face

from a life he lived

al a erosion

though each scar, skin deep
as shallow as the rest
he felt best
when they bled
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