#dye
I hate your red hair.
The way its brighter at your crown
and fades at your ends.
I hate your red hair.
It looked better brown
I wish you wouldve had it blend.
I hate your red hair?
Or atleast I thought i did
that was until I saw you lying there.
I miss your red hair.
Everyone thought it was outdid
yet nobody was aware.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 3:25 PM UTC
Every metaphor is a bridge
Connecting what's real to what's true
And only in crossing does one see
Both sides dyed the same hue
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 8:32 PM UTC
welcome to the hollow cake
buttered by cream frosting
its no fun being the rat in wax
is it?
was the garnish good, at least?
we're here only moments
and they're being wasted every minute
just like all the opportunities
that have gone on by
there's still plenty game to be had
a plentiful lot in play
pennies for each of their fads
hair changes, and ripped stockings
handmade
but when the dye fades
your mascara runs
was it fun?
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 6:21 PM UTC
My hair is longer
than before
But lately
I want a little more
so bring the dye
and bring the paste
I'm feeling purple
so hurry before it's too late
'that looks kinda red, Ash'
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 11:15 AM UTC
You might be quite bored
But don’t make the same mistake
Do NOT dye your hair
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
Start to dance,
maybe my bones break.
Start to chant,
maybe my voice dies.
Start. Stop. Start. Stop.
With this wand,
I waive rust.
With this wand,
I let blood.
Start. Stop. Start.
I don't want blood.
I don't want to buff
your sword and
your armor
anymore.
I only learned
this trade
for the portal spells.
I only want to
escape.
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 4:12 PM UTC
I'm right
on top of
things can't
you see it?
Oh! It's Friday
the 13th?
Thanks Cné.
I'm right
on top of
it, just -- just
trust me!
(An ounce of ****
per week and sleep,
dreamless sleep.)
I'm up
to date on
razor
pop culture.
Oh! It's August
isn't it? Sep - tem
- ber. That's
what I meant.
(An ounce of ****
per week and sleep,
dreamless sleep.)
Why can't I live like
Oliver Tree?
(An ounce of ****
per week and sleep,
dreamless sleep.)
Why can't I live like
Die Antwoord?
(An ounce of ****
per week and sleep,
dreamless sleep.)
Why can't I live like
Mr. Rogen?
LOL
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
Someone like me told me,
"You have to get involved."
Someone like me told me,
"You have to use your voice."
Someone like me told me,
"You're a disgrace
to your people."
I said back,
"I can't argue that."
I think, what's
the point of getting mad?
I've been called worse
than a delusional man
in women's clothes.
I think, what's
the point of the pitchfork?
I think, what's
the point of fighting language?
Someone like me told me,
"You're part of the problem."
Someone like me told me,
"You've been brainwashed."
I said back,
"Possibly."
I think, what's
the word I'd use
to describe you?
"Nonplussed."
And that's okay--
Funny even,
when you're angry.
You're funny
when you're angry.
Ha Ha Ha !
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 11:36 AM UTC
I don't want no more
cherry
light.
I don't want no more
green
in - ferno.
Once upon a time I
held dreams as close
as I went on
to hold smoke
in my lungs --
I don't want no more.
Yes: maybe Davey is right.
Which edge is the knife's edge and
which edge is. . .
Which edge is which?
Yes: maybe my Davey is right.
Complacency kills
the best of all intention.
My sleep's been in detention.
Maybe taking the easy downer. . .
Maybe taking
the easy upper. . .
I'll take back
my dreams.
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
Brown Hair
Blonde Hair
Blue Hair
Green
Dye it every color of the rainbow
And some more in between
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 12:27 AM UTC
blue drops fell
onto the rug,
the hair covered
in what we thought
could cure the sadness
is only soaked
in our emptiness.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 8:19 PM UTC
Roaring with colours
Wonderful and bright
Filled with the people
Who bring me such light
Dyed with their colours
All the reds and the blues
Staining my heart
Creating a wonderful work of art
A little bit of each person
Some a little more
Mixing new tones everyday
As each day its like an all out war
The colors they contrast
Making me who I am
Though some overpower me
Destroying parts of who I am
Though in the end I'm still me
Influence and painted by the people
Even if some parts are grey, dark and black
The rest is beautiful filled with the light of my history
From the colors of the rainbow and everything unseen
A walking masterpiece of colors
Drenched with dripping paint
Leaving my own mark on many others
Adding my own touch to who they are
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 8:57 AM UTC
There are certain parts of misery
That never made sense to me.
I never caught on to the self harm thing,
I figured I already felt bad enough.
I never drank it away,
Because a hangover was just a reminder
That putting a coat on
Doesn't stop the snow.
DABDA doesn't make sense either.
How can you be angry
About something you haven't accepted yet?
I do now understand masochism.
I certainly don't practice it,
But I get it.
The thing with masochism
Is that you really have to love it.
You really have to let go.
My nerves are just nerves.
My skin is just skin.
My eyes just make drawings out of ****
******* purple from the fourth wall
Letting the people eat a different truth.
My brain on a steady loop
Of Whose Line Is It Anyway reruns
Just waiting to invent the next thing
We all take for scripture.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 5:00 AM UTC
When dirt becomes a dye
no one has to tell a joke
people will naturally laugh with the hyenas
Howling and hiccuping
before they tear into grimly flesh.
They’ll talk to one another
in fits and starts.
Spotting stains on mopped tiles
Their tongue, the hammer of the judge,
stripping the “sanitation agencies” off
their robe of service.
Their society gradually becomes an appendicitis
It's streets drowned in ********
But it won't really bother the people
Until the day the fat maggot chokes on sewage
Then they'll gather together
And wonder what just happened
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 7:44 PM UTC
Artists paint with ink and dyes
Others sculpt with clay.
But only a poet paints with words
What never fades away
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
Husbands, raise your hands
Keep them up if you love your wife
Keep them up if you colour your wifes hair
Okay, this is for the three of us that are left....
I did my wife a favour
As I do, because I can
I help her when I'm able
Not just because I am a man
I **** bugs when requested
I do the laundry like I should
I clean the bathroom when it's *****
And by doing so , feel good
Every few weeks I will help her
Hide the grey that she can see
I don't volunteer to do it
But it's cheap to hire me
A salon visit is expensive
Doing hair, and waiting hours
I just slip on my latex hand wear
And I have a bag full of super powers
Yes, I help my wife get couloured
I take the time and do her hair
I also, get it on the tiles
Up the wall and on two chairs
The dog gets covered just a little
The rug, a window and the bed
But, we always buy two packets
So, there's enough to do her head
I have a jacket slightly mottled
It's got a few brown spots, some red
I don't know exactly how it happened
I even got some on our bed
Just call me Mr. Kenneth
In my jumpsuit doing hair
I get it where I think she needs it
And I spray it everywhere
She comes out looking gorgeous
She's always happy with the result
She always looks a little different
Like someone who believes in the occult
If you're a husband who likes money
Save it, colour your wife's hair
Your part only takes ten minutes
You need ten towels, one mask, one chair
It brings us both closer together
My arms look like a leopard skin
All my shirts are slightly spotted
But all those spots, make me look thin
I've got to go now and get cleaned up
The carpets ruined, so's the wood
But, she's happy and we all know that
If the wife is happy....all is good!
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
She dyed her hair
Every time she lost a person,
Her hair has been,
More than 15 colours.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
So yes,
Feel free to paint my scalp any color you choose.
Massage color into my listless locks, and let the pigment seep through
the tiny, pin needle cracks in my skull.
I want to see the dye behind my eyes.
I want to feel the kaleidoscope making my broken mind beautiful again.
You are an artist, a concentration of stars, the gentle breath of a wayward nebula ambling through space and time.
Stars are in your eyes, my love, and I wouldn't have you any other way.
I am a hummingbird heart on a ripped up sleeve, a bumbling creature that brims with pretty words that are too big for her halfway heart mouth.
As you preen and paint, darling, save me this. I don't care what you paint me as- another mistake, a prayer on trembling lips, or manic mumblings after midnight...
Just christen my hair with your fingers when we're done. Run them through so that I can shake out stardust afterwards. Kiss me so I can taste honey on my breathe long after you've gone away.
Love me like I'm a promise worth keeping.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
They say our bodies
Are like canvases
Waiting for us to become artists
To portray our lives, for all to see.
The canvas that I own,
Is not any less beautiful than yours
I have marks from the world,
And hair dye running down my spine
Pink and purple lines trail down my thighs
Sighing deeply I stare in the mirror,
Is my canvas tainted?
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
Red...
There's so much red.
Swirling around my toes,
Running through my fingers,
Staining my hands,
Dripping down my face.
Dying my hair red turns my shower into a ****** scene.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
Dye the ***** water with contaminates:
Blue #1,
and Sucralose, too.
Bend over to spray
the rotting road-kill with perfume.
Perfect the recipe
for what was fleshed and fruited
from animals and plants.
Photoshop the starved and diseased
with smiles
and beautiful bodies.
Clothe the *****
with lingerie, with heels,
and with stones.
Paint the roses red.
We paint the white roses red.
We’re painting the white roses red!
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC