#deadpool - Hello Poetry

* *Like a Marvel of the Phoenix All ends with begin-nings What keeps the Force spinning (uh) X-Force is beginning...* *We have let go...and feel-ing Mex-i-co Let's raise the Bell, serving tacos, escape this Hell?* * * *"She's up and hungry for fun, I'm up all night to eat some She's up all night so let's run We're up all night to eat tacos...* * * *We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos...* * * *"We eat ta-cos 'til there's sun Stayed up all night to eat one Got hungry, -and made 'Ah' run We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos...* * * *Taco Bell, it sets no hours... ...and it's raining, -taco showers? What is this I'm feeling? Seeing tacos on my ceiling?* * * *We've come too far to give up who we are So… * *"We eat ta-cos 'til there's sun Stayed up all night to eat one Got hungry, -and made 'Ah' run We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos...* * * ...Taco Bell allow guns inside? * * *"We eat ta-cos 'til there's sun Stayed up all night to eat one Got hungry, -and made 'Ah' run We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos...* * * *"We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... I'm up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos... We're up all night to eat tacos....* * *...Taco Bell allow guns inside?

0

Jun 30, 2018

Jun 30, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC

david-john-mowers

Deadpool(Taco Bell) Dafty

55

* *"Never jump into the **** of Elk horn sideways, it'll make you ***** and chiropractors can't fix that!"* *

0

Dec 25, 2016

Dec 25, 2016 at 8:47 PM UTC

david-john-mowers

Deadpool

* *"Never jump into the **** of Elk horn sideways, it'll make you ***** and chiropractors can't fix that!"* *

2

you know how the song goes: a stitch away from making it and a scar away from falling apart. holding on gets hard when the light at the end of the tunnel goes dark. my friend told me he doesn’t purposely befriend actively suicidal people anymore. so when a 14-year old friend was hospitalized for an attempt, he was shocked. I’m not fourteen and i don’t go to the hospital for anything, but when i was fifteen i asked my mom to start taking me to therapy. she told me, sweetie, you can just talk to me about anything. so i started writing poetry instead. but poems can’t diagnose me, poems can’t prescribe me meds to fix the chemical catastrophe in my head poems can’t cure me. but neither can people. there was a boy that i used to call sunshine, but he told me that he would rather be the moon. i deleted your number from my contacts once you stopped using mine. you don’t keep me up at night. i’ve stopped losing sleep over you. i haven’t broken the habit of checking people’s wrists when they move because of all the girls i knew in grade school. i have a friend with the first letter of help permanently scarred on his stomach. we’ve never talked about it. i don’t know if either of us know how to, or if either of us really want to, or if either of us really need to. when my brother was 18, he was convinced that he wanted to go into psychiatry. i think the closest we’ve ever been was when i had a mental break over orange juice at one thirty in the morning, watching him play GTA on his Xbox 360. when my brother was 17, he was convinced that his future was in professional photography. i’m 17 and i don’t have a ******* clue. I’m 17 and i don’t think I’ve ever felt so much like I’m just constantly drowning. they say a captain goes down with his ship and I’ve set myself up for losing all my friends. she’s got year-round summer skin and winter has never been my friend. i sleep seven hours a night and i wake up exhausted. my cat has all his claws and when he crashes through my bedroom when i’m on the brink of extinction it leaves me haunted, hearing breathing and footsteps that aren’t really there. so i’ll put studs in all my jackets and wrap myself in blankets. i wish you were here, i wish i was there. the first rated R movie that i saw when i turned 17 was that one that brought back ryan reynolds, starring a moody teen with the best superhero name ever, a CGI man who acted as her mentor, a pretty girl like a damsel in distress, and the bad guy called himself ajax but his real name was francis. i cried a lot. i’m not sure why, really, but when the credits started rolling and it was everything that i’d been waiting for in a movie for the anti-hero that I’ve been in love with since i was 13, i sat in those velvet seats and started sobbing. when i was six, my dad took my 9 year old brother and i to see ‘revenge of the sith’ when it came out in 2005. the scene on mustafar, the volcanic planet, the downfall of anakin skywalker stuck with me until i was 12 and rewatched all six of those old movies, stuck with me until i was 16 and rewatched all six of those old movies. when i was a kid those scenes were scary, now i see a mimic of Shakespearean tragedy. i pick things apart until i know that they’ll scar, but scars have always faded for me. the first mark that ever lasted for more than a month was when i burned myself getting a cake out of the oven. i remember my brother telling me that he wouldn’t care about the burn if i ******* up the cake. we laughed about it because it was a joke. i still think about it. i still check to see if you watch my Snapchat story. i rip the hems out of all of my clothing compulsively. I’m sorry. i’ll pick up all the balled-up threads from the carpet eventually. i keep ticket stubs and scraps of notes hazardously strewn across my bedroom, because i’m too sentimental for my own good but organization has never come naturally. solar systems are borne from my fingertips. supernovas power my lungs. stardust glitters in my veins (i tell myself these things in order to keep thinking straight) hey, look at the moon. see how she reflects the sun for you? it’s because she’s got nothing of her own to give away willingly. i gave you everything willingly i spent too many nights shredding notebook paper into pieces of white birthday party confetti. i swallowed six painkillers today. I’m passive like aggressive, letting my liver slip into uselessness. it’s really hard to write poetry about bruises.

0

Feb 26, 2016

Feb 26, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC

hutchinson

collective unconscious

you know how the song goes: a stitch away from making it and a scar away from falling apart. holding on gets hard when the light at the end of the tunnel goes dark. my friend told me he doesn’t purposely befriend actively suicidal people anymore. so when a 14-year old friend was hospitalized for an attempt, he was shocked. I’m not fourteen and i don’t go to the hospital for anything, but when i was fifteen i asked my mom to start taking me to therapy. she told me, sweetie, you can just talk to me about anything. so i started writing poetry instead. but poems can’t diagnose me, poems can’t prescribe me meds to fix the chemical catastrophe in my head poems can’t cure me. but neither can people. there was a boy that i used to call sunshine, but he told me that he would rather be the moon. i deleted your number from my contacts once you stopped using mine. you don’t keep me up at night. i’ve stopped losing sleep over you. i haven’t broken the habit of checking people’s wrists when they move because of all the girls i knew in grade school. i have a friend with the first letter of help permanently scarred on his stomach. we’ve never talked about it. i don’t know if either of us know how to, or if either of us really want to, or if either of us really need to. when my brother was 18, he was convinced that he wanted to go into psychiatry. i think the closest we’ve ever been was when i had a mental break over orange juice at one thirty in the morning, watching him play GTA on his Xbox 360. when my brother was 17, he was convinced that his future was in professional photography. i’m 17 and i don’t have a ******* clue. I’m 17 and i don’t think I’ve ever felt so much like I’m just constantly drowning. they say a captain goes down with his ship and I’ve set myself up for losing all my friends. she’s got year-round summer skin and winter has never been my friend. i sleep seven hours a night and i wake up exhausted. my cat has all his claws and when he crashes through my bedroom when i’m on the brink of extinction it leaves me haunted, hearing breathing and footsteps that aren’t really there. so i’ll put studs in all my jackets and wrap myself in blankets. i wish you were here, i wish i was there. the first rated R movie that i saw when i turned 17 was that one that brought back ryan reynolds, starring a moody teen with the best superhero name ever, a CGI man who acted as her mentor, a pretty girl like a damsel in distress, and the bad guy called himself ajax but his real name was francis. i cried a lot. i’m not sure why, really, but when the credits started rolling and it was everything that i’d been waiting for in a movie for the anti-hero that I’ve been in love with since i was 13, i sat in those velvet seats and started sobbing. when i was six, my dad took my 9 year old brother and i to see ‘revenge of the sith’ when it came out in 2005. the scene on mustafar, the volcanic planet, the downfall of anakin skywalker stuck with me until i was 12 and rewatched all six of those old movies, stuck with me until i was 16 and rewatched all six of those old movies. when i was a kid those scenes were scary, now i see a mimic of Shakespearean tragedy. i pick things apart until i know that they’ll scar, but scars have always faded for me. the first mark that ever lasted for more than a month was when i burned myself getting a cake out of the oven. i remember my brother telling me that he wouldn’t care about the burn if i ******* up the cake. we laughed about it because it was a joke. i still think about it. i still check to see if you watch my Snapchat story. i rip the hems out of all of my clothing compulsively. I’m sorry. i’ll pick up all the balled-up threads from the carpet eventually. i keep ticket stubs and scraps of notes hazardously strewn across my bedroom, because i’m too sentimental for my own good but organization has never come naturally. solar systems are borne from my fingertips. supernovas power my lungs. stardust glitters in my veins (i tell myself these things in order to keep thinking straight) hey, look at the moon. see how she reflects the sun for you? it’s because she’s got nothing of her own to give away willingly. i gave you everything willingly i spent too many nights shredding notebook paper into pieces of white birthday party confetti. i swallowed six painkillers today. I’m passive like aggressive, letting my liver slip into uselessness. it’s really hard to write poetry about bruises.

131