#pocket
Can I hide inside your pocket?
So they won't see me cry.
I swear I will be really quiet
so you won't even realize.
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 10:14 AM UTC
my life is a rollercoaster
point blank period
I always know what fearlessness is
I always understand the rush of belief
but sometimes I want everything to stop
to exist in a pocket of time, to do whatever I like
not be pushed and pulled
hauled and trawled
stalled and enthralled
if I had a penny for every scream
I would be able to relish in greed
I am so envious, what would it be like not to live like this
but this is me and I am incomplete without the rollercoaster
so I guess I have to enjoy my sh*t
Dec 3, 2021
Dec 3, 2021 at 12:48 PM UTC
the feelings became an engraved key chain:
its grooves were made just for me.
I hid the key chain in my back pocket,
shielding it from the side eyes,
but when the people saw it,
they took out their own key chains,
and the designs were very similar.
now my key chain is in my hand,
and I show it whenever I want.
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 11:57 PM UTC
The chalky Cliffs of Dover crumble in my fist.
Tucked away neatly in my pocket.
I have the power to become a person completely in control.
The tension seething in my chest no longer.
All I need is the key.
A simple motion not readily accepted by the masses.
'Tis not we who wait for the dust to settle but for the dust to settle we.
The reuptake of life hidden but always near.
We care not for the hands that pass the life from person to person.
For they could be from the grimiest of grim and still our hands are cupped for their foul crooked benevolence.
We are gods and what is purity without the soot and **** and **** to define it.
Synthetic courage and emotional restraint what more could the people want.
Only a few care for the real me, the anxiety, the truth.
Why pander the rest when I have complete control within a plastic seal, tucked neatly in my pocket.
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 9:54 PM UTC
Someday doesn't mean reassurance -
a pocket for small , frail hopes.
Someday means someday will arrive.
Make her a dress.
With your own two hands.
Out of nothing and everything.
When someday comes,
make her beautiful
for yourself.
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 8:44 AM UTC
bare it straight...
the knight-fool referenced here,
me, scrabbled, scrambled writer,
moat-surround builder,
petard hole-blower in walls of captivity.
letting those inside out,
letting those outside in...
all the beloveds from
ailments hurtful,
in and ex ternality
fearful of eternality
guise of knight errant,
salve and solve,
two pocket protectors,
needy, downtrodden, love-hurting,
slip inside and hide till ready
to come out on acceptable terms
entrapped, locked down and in,
show me the walls for to break,
make the solitary unobligatory
hands holding you will lead us,
all writ on clean new chance foolscap
open sourced coded for sharing
knock knock knock
come calling,
my calling...
to come...
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Slightly warm mostly beige
This is what I wear today
Maybe stripes polka dots
Here I am at the spot
( chorus )
The laundromat's on fire
Even though the socks have no matches
Everyone's desire
Not to show off any patches
Mostly worn kinda frayed
The years are displayed
Think I found enough change
It's laundry day all the same
( chorus )
The laundromat's on fire
Even though the socks have no matches
Everyone's desire
Not to show off any patches
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC
Pickpocketed
each pocket has a purpose
church bells shatter through the surface
the worthless circus sunday service
a procession past the pickled mirthless
dispersions of persons pass pews
hoping He accepts the time served, in lieu
and thus this pocket is purposed for you
At the masqurade parade all day
That preys on insecurity
youre sure to see a bargain,
sharking, armed with curiosity
but the cost is often hidden, lost
in a forest of desire, in a silk lined pocket
and this is where they keep your wallet
search for solace in a sound structure
then ruptured synapses, flayed fluster
rebuild it all, regard life's lustre
meander melancholy with what you can muster
place them in a pocket, each respective,
one for your lessons and one for perspective
as the pickpocket of fear plays with the reasoning detective
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 8:28 AM UTC
So there's a pocket in my purse
Its unopened or maybe its cursed
Am I just indifferent or maybe I'm afraid
(I'll let you in a little secret)
It's where I keep my favorite blade
It's been in my company for quite some time
In the moments I chided, in the moments I chimed
I have always kept it close like a love another
(I don't even know how to say this)
Sometimes even closer than my very own mother
But I like how it feels on my soft skin
I carve through my teary eyes, a ****** grin
But sure I hope that I don't die
(I don't do it to **** myself)
It just gives me hope that the bad times will pass by
Its been a while since I have cried
I feel like a psychopath with no feelings to define
So I reach out for my blade in the purse to feel something
(I won't throw it away so soon)
It gives me joy to know that i can sense, even if its hurting.
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder
if the smile I gave you
is long gone
or do you keep it in your pocket and put it on from time to time
in the darkness of the night
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
with violin in hand with
sand in your pocket
i go i step again
where will i find that
golden bird
I live I want to live
find the last treasure
to burn to burn
and darkness and darkness
never know
play a tune
one melody of the world
play the misty of mist
but fog and gloom
and not know darkness
13.12.18
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
I just realized
As I was shuffling
Through my poems
A majority of
My poetry
Seems
To be
A
Pocket
For my
Insecurities
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
When i was fourteen
I learnt how to tie a rope
And practiced on a small string
until i could tie it with my eyes closed
i kept it in my pocket
i placed it in my bag
I played with it when i was lonely
and held it in my hands
Now i'm nineteen
I no longer remember how to tie a rope
But i still keep my small string
In the deep corner of my drawer
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
Oh! Let me be you.
Who walks with a sun in your pocket
for every rainy day.
Who stood at crossroads
and decided which road shouldn’t exist.
Let me be you for a day.
So that I am not the one
who hides in hollow words,
who makes her bed on the dreams of others.
Let me be you,
so that I can put out my hand
always with the confidence
knowing that the love I ask
shall be given.
But what is this that I feel?
Why my hands shake?
Why my heart cries?
Is it because
the one who is breaking the wall
with bare bleeding hands
has the same pain, same fear
as the one who is hiding behind that wall.
Is it because
this love, this life
leaves no one without scar.
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
your curtains were walls
the lights shined
on
you
tears
as
beautifully
placed water falls
your curtains
we're
your walls
?
...
..
.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
By my dearest angel Zadkiel as he moves in a clear path, round,
rhytmically, step by step his gears lead him through the passing time.
A golden sight, sparkling, twinkling from the reflection of light.
Locking me, tugging me, embracing me into the deepness of my
own thoughts, which unfold, bloom and become happy memories.
As reality and illusion become one, on the peak of their pleasure,
By time ticking on, now they share the same heart.
This golden coloured pocket watch, cuts through the darkness
within me, with my very own wishes as I yet sink deeper into
deeper thoughts, hypnotic, pleasant, I watch how the minute passes.
The memories created by these thoughts are becoming love,
So that the world I inhabit in is filled with even more light
Tick, tock, making delicate sounds, as he moves unconditionally,
Round and round again until the time has come and he is put to rest.
As then with newfound strengh, he repeats his daily duties as
an source of energy, an ember of determination enters him.
And so, another smile has been cast on me by his gentle movements.
~ Umi
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
I'm tripping the breaker.
Soaking in the burn of the wires,
Tracing the line back to an old fuse box
With a broken switch
And a battered shell.
Grey with ambiguity and boredom
Seeping productivity like an oil spill,
Diluting the green.
Twenty one centuries.
And some pocket change
Just so we can all act
Like the pressure was worth the diamond.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 4:04 AM UTC
if we walk together,
i will leave the hand
closest to you out
of my pocket in case
you want to hold it.
but i remember how you
told me you want to
feel up my thighs.
i will sit next to you instead
and place your hand on my thigh.
you make me tremble.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
Imagine the worst soccer team in the world.
Now go deeper
and try to picture every single player.
I bet you think they're all ****** talentless ****** right?
WROOONG!
They are the most talented and witty players
on the crippled face of this earth,
each of them with 2 or 3 MVP titles in their pocket.
They are so good as individuals
that make a terrible team.
and, on top of that,
you get to be the goalkeeper.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWGE9Gi0bB0
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
i gave my heart to him
in the form of a music box
he opened it to hear a soft tune
of my feelings i kept within
he hummed to the song
i made up for him
and danced to the rhythm
of my pulse beating
the entire moment was a loop
which didn't want to cease
it would only be so
if i took my heart back
or if he stopped dancing
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC