#inandout - Hello Poetry

He's got all the ins, and he's got all the outs we all know one, or two, of this, there's no doubt inconclusive indecisive a lack of all faith standing on thresholds, within, and without outstanding outdistanced outpaced and out thought leaving a stain, but, that's all that you've got wandering pastures and fields of invalid memes wondering if, all that, it seems don't be deluded, of alternate dreams he's in, and he's out..... spinning lies, and bad themes past all the stop signs and beyond all you can grasp you're bound to a world with no locks and no clasps no way in and no way to get out

0

Jul 12, 2023

Jul 12, 2023 at 12:06 AM UTC

TemporalFugue

Mr in....and out

He's got all the ins, and he's got all the outs we all know one, or two, of this, there's no doubt inconclusive indecisive a lack of all faith standing on thresholds, within, and without outstanding outdistanced outpaced and out thought leaving a stain, but, that's all that you've got wandering pastures and fields of invalid memes wondering if, all that, it seems don't be deluded, of alternate dreams he's in, and he's out..... spinning lies, and bad themes past all the stop signs and beyond all you can grasp you're bound to a world with no locks and no clasps no way in and no way to get out

26

Dear car behind me, I want medium well fries. Let's sit together

0

Sep 1, 2017

Sep 1, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC

shyguypoetry

Munchies

Dear car behind me, I want medium well fries. Let's sit together

3

When my heart beats black inside my chest, and the days I have are filled with death, and the girls I know won't walk with me, then I have my choice in misery. All the birds have died, and the plains are dry, the skyscrapers aren't lit up at night, and the city's sound sounds like nothing, then I have my choice in suffering. People talk a lot, but they hardly speak, all their voices creak in the summer streets, everybody walks but they're not moving, I try to only observe but then I start screaming. I ******* hate the way that you look at me, your skin's so ******* clean that it feels ***** your eyes move around but you're not seeing, the way I hurt each day but you say nothing. If I tried to leave you might be happy, so I sit and be and go out at night and cheat. I would break your heart, but it hardly beats. You're my walking dead, my darling zombie. Each day is second rate, I bore so easily. It's like the day we met ended your pleasantry. I startle all the time, you seem so unaware. I chose you number one, you chose to not even care. I caressed you once, and undressed you thrice, you abandoned me in the middle of the night. All the time I halved, you had your own account, of every thing we did, it wasn't the right amount. Now I hardly care about the drugs you're on. I'm quoting blasphemy out of every psalm. Even the words I write don't tell half of the truth, about the way I felt chasing after you.

0

Apr 26, 2014

Apr 26, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC

martin-narrod

dear you

When my heart beats black inside my chest, and the days I have are filled with death, and the girls I know won't walk with me, then I have my choice in misery. All the birds have died, and the plains are dry, the skyscrapers aren't lit up at night, and the city's sound sounds like nothing, then I have my choice in suffering. People talk a lot, but they hardly speak, all their voices creak in the summer streets, everybody walks but they're not moving, I try to only observe but then I start screaming. I ******* hate the way that you look at me, your skin's so ******* clean that it feels ***** your eyes move around but you're not seeing, the way I hurt each day but you say nothing. If I tried to leave you might be happy, so I sit and be and go out at night and cheat. I would break your heart, but it hardly beats. You're my walking dead, my darling zombie. Each day is second rate, I bore so easily. It's like the day we met ended your pleasantry. I startle all the time, you seem so unaware. I chose you number one, you chose to not even care. I caressed you once, and undressed you thrice, you abandoned me in the middle of the night. All the time I halved, you had your own account, of every thing we did, it wasn't the right amount. Now I hardly care about the drugs you're on. I'm quoting blasphemy out of every psalm. Even the words I write don't tell half of the truth, about the way I felt chasing after you.

4