#primary
not the prophylactic kind,
nor the rubber kiss road tire kind.
but the rubber of bodies
old and young,
tired and tense,
young and flexible
migrained, played & splayed,
pain paralyzed,
soothed by cherubic
fingertips
oiled with,
anointed by,
a-custom cream
of tenderizing aloe
and gentling, kind loving
quieting & shushing
tho mine own temples,
raging, feverish,
combobulating
as words spill as *********
and then
*she
sleepy whines:
why did you stop rubbing me?*
and for
a sleep deep,
she leaves
me,
going unanswered
but happily
nonetheless
boy be typing
The End
Jun 22, 2025
Jun 22, 2025 at 12:08 PM UTC
You’re a primary color,
The brightest of the bunch.
Even if your shape is
Slightly off from circular,
Your wedges make,
the best bitter smile.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
Through a veil, I see it all.
A building big, a building small.
Dressed up in its qualities --
An experience my sense recalls.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
*Oh, Abernathy
How long has it been
Since we left school
And went our separate ways?
Oh, Abernathy
I still think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day
All the things we used to make
All the rules we tried to break
And they say that kids will still be kids
But, oh, Abernathy
The teachers are doing fine
They were smiling
When I visited them one day
And, oh, Abernathy
I hope you're doing well
Wherever you are
Whatever may come your way
Oh, the memories I hold dear
They have all but disappeared
It's both a blessing and a curse
Oh, Abernathy
My Lawrence, Abernathy
I wonder what you're doing
To this day
There's no need to be upset
Please don't sweat this stuff or fret
I only want to let you know
Abernathy, you're still on my mind
I remember your golden hair and your pearly eyes
Our friendship will never fade away, I swear
Oh, Abernathy
Dear Lawrence, Abernathy
I just pray to God
That you are still okay
Oh, Abernathy
I always think of you
And I wonder how you are
To this day*
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 8:42 PM UTC
This isn't a new story;
In fact it's quite old
I may have mentioned it before
But now this story must be told
All through my Primary years
All I had was sweat and tears
I had no friends and too many fears
I couldn't even trust my peers
I kept my secrets hidden deep;
They began to devour me
I tried to talk to somebody,
Please oh please, anybody!
I had begun to play yard games with kids
Who weren't really my friends
They used and abused me every day
Until I felt like it was the end
I blurted it out to them
"Stop this, I can't take it!
I have Aspergers, *******
Do you know how I deal with it?"
They didn't know how I did it
They were absolutely speechless
Now I regret saying it
Till then it was only known by teachers
My simple reply
To the question I posed them
"I don't"
And a new level of bullying began
Now ****** actually meant something
******** was introduced
I regret ever opening my mouth
And helping these new taunts be produced!
Had to move schools because we were moving house
My first term in new uniform, new school and different people
I had hoped that moving would get me friends and less enemies
But no matter where you go, it seems, people are still evil!
I had a crush on a girl that year
And she was always taken
She swapped boyfriends so fast they called her a ****
If I'm not mistaken
I wrote her letters, I was too shy to talk
And the best bit? She wrote back
I kept her letters to this very day
But I did not know she would betray!
She showed my letters to some guys
These guys who used to tease me
I only found out through a friend
When he said he'd seen the pieces
She'd scattered them at the school pond
I found a piece hidden in the grass
It dawned on me that all her beauty
Hid a ******* *******
She knew I went down to the pond
I ******* SAID SO, IN MY LETTERS!
She didn't feel guilty then
I thought that she was better!
That friend who told me, by the way
I made halfway through the year
He is and was an absolute legend,
Is my friend Pal Tear
Moving on to Year 8
New Year, New Me, right?
******* hell it wasn't
First term, and already in a fight!
Betrayed again by someone who
I had the trust to call a friend
Trusting others is one of my flaws
So I get stabbed again and again
Year 9 comes around
People look but do not speak
There is no reason to diss me
I'm no longer shy, submissive and weak
Instead they **** my anger
As I found out in Year 10
Thought the torture was over
That it wouldn't happen again!
Food scraps thrown at me
Names called from afar
I pretend I just don't care
But it's all a great big façade
I started to ponder
The sharpness of blades
And how easy it would be to cut myself
And try and replace the pain
For a pain I could tolerate
That in good time I would love
The blade would be my bestest friend
When I'd had enough
And so it came to be
For I got set in bad ways
These old habits die rather slowly
I've been trying, for so many days
I made a promise to a girl
A girl I loved, now all is neutral
That I would try not to cut
That a blade is, by far, more than that kind of useful
I'm still trying to stop
To this very day
But although I do it very little
I still get by with my wicked ways
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 2:29 AM UTC
pasty white ghosts haunt
the corpse blue cornfields of Iowa
whispering wisps of smoke
shimmering shadows of the past
setting the pace for the rat race
that is the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election
senators billionaires doctors
frauds liars fools
campaigning for selection in an
archaic and outdated
form of governance
witness the spectacle
the orgastic worship
of solipsistic oligarchs
bloated by their own
sycophantic rhetoric
it's just another form
of all-American
entertainment
each orator's charismatic adage
froths forth from a
throat like a grave
pragmatism throttles hope
as we stoke the fires of
self-indulgence and neglect
the fact that we acquiesced
as another deceiver stole votes
we're choking on placebo pills
every ballot cast is another act of apathy
escapism pleading vainly for a
savior to rescue our sick society but
these hands didn't evolve so we could
collect a representative to lead us
blindly into one fiasco after another
these fingers penned
humanity's symphonies and
these calloused palms have
toiled for years under an apathetic sun
we learned to make love
using our fingertips and
with these fists
we could chart a new path
but only if we raise them in
defiance
our only chance is leaderless resistance
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
She walked around in a perfect dress, the beautiful angel we wanted.
Look at little miss innocent stroll around, what if I told you she’s not as innocent as she sounds.
Everyday, she hangs up her bag, and goes up to him and laughs.
He sits there alone, hanging his head down, crying to himself.
She stands there, in front of him, his face in her shadowed self.
He was bullied, everyday by the girl they proclaimed to be an angel,
he was crying, and wanted to get away, and wrote in the dirt,
“somebody **** me”.
She went to school, in her dress, and saw a hand gesture,
she showed her friends, they all giggled too, some reason the boy liked her too.
He wanted to show her, his affection and prove his love indeed.
He went to her, with a big little grin, and let out the words.
She laughed in his face, giggling away, it was him, she found it,
beyond hilarious, everything this boy said, as if he was a joke.
Somebody **** me, somebody **** me,
droning on in this boy’s mind, somebody, out there, punch me down,
pull me down, deeper into the ground.
She walked around in the ***** clothes, crying away, to the love songs,
she looked at her phone, another message, “Go die *****
She saw why she shouldn't of rejected him, she was the bully,
and now she is the one in the pressured world, she goes to him,
in her thoughts, and apologizes for the lies she once told.
I now wish, if I knew him now, I would cry and apologize.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC