#relevant - Hello Poetry

You ever thought that maybe to be realigned with your person they may need to miss you to appreciate you. You holding on with a death grip, constantly accessible interfering with the process. Trust the process. Whats for you will always be for you.

0

Sep 22, 2025

Sep 22, 2025 at 6:54 AM UTC

BigBaby_48

If It’s Meant

You ever thought that maybe to be realigned with your person they may need to miss you to appreciate you. You holding on with a death grip, constantly accessible interfering with the process. Trust the process. Whats for you will always be for you.

1

Two heavenly hands hold hues of their own A hell in the night we live all alone The greater and the lesser light will see She here with her one and he with his three He sleeps and wakes up to discover names The unfortunate truths of life are blamed When they choose to allow her to have this Cathar reveals itself, tetractys A maiden resides and is instead shown Not pen, but pencil to see The Lupeon

0

Feb 12, 2025

Feb 12, 2025 at 12:22 AM UTC

archedbowhandle

Prophecy in 10s

Two heavenly hands hold hues of their own A hell in the night we live all alone The greater and the lesser light will see She here with her one and he with his three He sleeps and wakes up to discover names The unfortunate truths of life are blamed When they choose to allow her to have this Cathar reveals itself, tetractys A maiden resides and is instead shown Not pen, but pencil to see The Lupeon

10

some of the best recollections i curated is that of chaos. i know you hate it, so i will make you remember. how you lolled your tongue at the sight of garlic in your porridge when we’ve got nothing else to eat on a rainy day. bowls of getting by squeezed out of tired pores, crated palms with puddles of a won day, same palms like coveted napkins on the lap of the rich wiping the long breath of hopelessness from your cheeks. reed-thin body, bones as if wafers, yet we sprung forward. not a care as we watched the jowly cheeks of wanting puff up. how hand-me-down yesterdays were worn—a tradition tied around a last name like All Souls’ Day candles. they peer from behind the stars, thoughts of them sparkle, they are reminded of fights, they are reminded why they left in the first place, just in case boredom pays them a visit. i’ve come to know, the most practical way to get a golden ticket to the land of happiness is to have it handy in my heart. but you locked it up in a gilded cage and you chased a star not knowing it’s a sunset and it just kept dipping into peaks jutting out of nowhere, you had worn out your heels and you were left with nothing but midnight instead of holding on to your blanket and watch a new day spill out of the sky. you were insane that way. remember the shame how magic belts turned us red and purple and upright, and how we were the grinch who stole baby Jesus away from his nativity set and got caught and were taught grownups pick on kids who didn’t know better? remember how mathematics predetermined our future as undisputed champs of failure courtesy of our clairvoyant aunts? it mattered little— inconsequential, so to speak. we heaved our arms, hoisted our dreams onto our scrawny frames. our bulging chests were enough for us to beat, like bongos, we fanned the flames until they voices throughout the milky way. our mother in her innocence believed we were capable of many a great things between the better parts of her mood swings. we were mirrors more than we were humans portioned in parts bitter and beauty, we rummaged through every chance hoping we could unearth change, but we never did until it was too late. yet, i always had your hand in mine. we dropped out of the line and strayed away from paths stamped with footprints of approval and wandered on roads no one can see but our hearts knew. remember the day you let go so you could hold bottles thinking they were looking glasses, thinking they fermented clarity aged in oak barrels, and day after day you took a drop until you had an ocean dissolving you? remember how i found real estate in the promises of a girl, how i grew a house there, but then, time mistook her for dorothy and blew her away like a tumble **** into the arms of another boy? how i bawled out and how you had a ball at my expense, laughing at my silence at open mic night? remember when we heard a drop of a needle the size of the moon hurtling down the earth when father sat up on his bed for the last time with his eyes open as if he saw an unseen door somewhere. somehow, we heard him skittering away while he left us a fertilizer for everyone to cry about? remember how we forgot. we dreamt under the same roof before our feet carried us away. into the mist went we, threads began to fray, we forgot. i will make you remember, before all that i am unravels.

0

Dec 2, 2024

Dec 2, 2024 at 6:48 PM UTC

Erwinism

You Will Remember

some of the best recollections i curated is that of chaos. i know you hate it, so i will make you remember. how you lolled your tongue at the sight of garlic in your porridge when we’ve got nothing else to eat on a rainy day. bowls of getting by squeezed out of tired pores, crated palms with puddles of a won day, same palms like coveted napkins on the lap of the rich wiping the long breath of hopelessness from your cheeks. reed-thin body, bones as if wafers, yet we sprung forward. not a care as we watched the jowly cheeks of wanting puff up. how hand-me-down yesterdays were worn—a tradition tied around a last name like All Souls’ Day candles. they peer from behind the stars, thoughts of them sparkle, they are reminded of fights, they are reminded why they left in the first place, just in case boredom pays them a visit. i’ve come to know, the most practical way to get a golden ticket to the land of happiness is to have it handy in my heart. but you locked it up in a gilded cage and you chased a star not knowing it’s a sunset and it just kept dipping into peaks jutting out of nowhere, you had worn out your heels and you were left with nothing but midnight instead of holding on to your blanket and watch a new day spill out of the sky. you were insane that way. remember the shame how magic belts turned us red and purple and upright, and how we were the grinch who stole baby Jesus away from his nativity set and got caught and were taught grownups pick on kids who didn’t know better? remember how mathematics predetermined our future as undisputed champs of failure courtesy of our clairvoyant aunts? it mattered little— inconsequential, so to speak. we heaved our arms, hoisted our dreams onto our scrawny frames. our bulging chests were enough for us to beat, like bongos, we fanned the flames until they voices throughout the milky way. our mother in her innocence believed we were capable of many a great things between the better parts of her mood swings. we were mirrors more than we were humans portioned in parts bitter and beauty, we rummaged through every chance hoping we could unearth change, but we never did until it was too late. yet, i always had your hand in mine. we dropped out of the line and strayed away from paths stamped with footprints of approval and wandered on roads no one can see but our hearts knew. remember the day you let go so you could hold bottles thinking they were looking glasses, thinking they fermented clarity aged in oak barrels, and day after day you took a drop until you had an ocean dissolving you? remember how i found real estate in the promises of a girl, how i grew a house there, but then, time mistook her for dorothy and blew her away like a tumble **** into the arms of another boy? how i bawled out and how you had a ball at my expense, laughing at my silence at open mic night? remember when we heard a drop of a needle the size of the moon hurtling down the earth when father sat up on his bed for the last time with his eyes open as if he saw an unseen door somewhere. somehow, we heard him skittering away while he left us a fertilizer for everyone to cry about? remember how we forgot. we dreamt under the same roof before our feet carried us away. into the mist went we, threads began to fray, we forgot. i will make you remember, before all that i am unravels.

46

(Be Relevant) By a beading table, is where i sit, a few steps across a desktop corner, a sky-lighted, cozy space, a vantage point where i see and hear clearly, as i'm easily heard and seen...close to the kitchen, where home scenes and sounds...and scents of home-made food, inspire and influence creativity. here is where i mend torn garments, repair anything that must be mended. here, i'm found when my presence, my sentiments and advice are sought, when they ask what's for dinner, or, just wanna hug...reasons for one's existence, speak loud, just as my thoughts...speak loud, too. "is this why i'm here in this world? why i was created here, and not in other livable spaces in the universe?" purposes and roles come to mind, when hope is nowhere, and thoughts of an ungrateful world, an ungrateful surrounding, drag on... while the rest are still hushed by the twilight of dawn, my eyes are half-closed, but the mind is already up and about...deaf and blind to disappointments and frustrations, oblivious to estrangements, because, family...is always a priority. no arguments, just a choice...to live through this purpose-driven life, to be relevant, to be involved, to be a part of the whole...as long as time allows. :::::::::::::::: ::::::::::: :::::: ::: sally b © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan August 15, 2021

0

Aug 14, 2021

Aug 14, 2021 at 9:43 PM UTC

sally-a-bayan

Purposes

(Be Relevant) By a beading table, is where i sit, a few steps across a desktop corner, a sky-lighted, cozy space, a vantage point where i see and hear clearly, as i'm easily heard and seen...close to the kitchen, where home scenes and sounds...and scents of home-made food, inspire and influence creativity. here is where i mend torn garments, repair anything that must be mended. here, i'm found when my presence, my sentiments and advice are sought, when they ask what's for dinner, or, just wanna hug...reasons for one's existence, speak loud, just as my thoughts...speak loud, too. "is this why i'm here in this world? why i was created here, and not in other livable spaces in the universe?" purposes and roles come to mind, when hope is nowhere, and thoughts of an ungrateful world, an ungrateful surrounding, drag on... while the rest are still hushed by the twilight of dawn, my eyes are half-closed, but the mind is already up and about...deaf and blind to disappointments and frustrations, oblivious to estrangements, because, family...is always a priority. no arguments, just a choice...to live through this purpose-driven life, to be relevant, to be involved, to be a part of the whole...as long as time allows. :::::::::::::::: ::::::::::: :::::: ::: sally b © Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan August 15, 2021

44

Why do we ask the same questions Using the same words And hope it is any more relevant And meaningful Than it was before?

0

Sep 23, 2020

Sep 23, 2020 at 7:16 PM UTC

zackripley

Insanity

Why do we ask the same questions Using the same words And hope it is any more relevant And meaningful Than it was before?

5

Time is not as relevant as they say it is. (Tripping over their very senses in the very process that’s getting them…NOWHERE!) It could be, only if “space and time” both actually mattered. Which they entirely don’t when there’s something else that should be added to both space and time, whilst one or the others should be removed (becoming their own stated claim). Meaning space isn’t as relevant as they it is, either. Instead of saying space and time, you should actually be removing the “space” itself and putting the word “pace” in it’s (once thought “spatial” place). Now calling it both “pace and time” for ALL (in due time) too essentially bear! So, if both space a-and time are not relevant, then why does it seem like time doesn’t get the credit it deserves for being the more recognized characteristic of this discussion…? Because space goes in a category of it’s very own. That’s why! Something that need’s ONLY a good pace and time too filter it on through. Because pace is nothing more than the aptitude for something that needs a good time management either (ahead of time or beforehand) for time to not become as relevant as they say it is. Showing the truth behind the matter, altogether. Time being a thing that truly does “transcend” ALL states of matter! And ALL states of consciousness! Even going beyond what any state of consciousness could ever “assess” simply what the entire magnitude of the force of “time” itself truly is about? Nor can consciousness even define its own properties against time, instead (“with time”). When its very meanings aren’t always accountable when trying to always reason through something that essentially goes beyond yourself. For consciousness tries (as it must) to traverse every property of it’s very meaning in order to redefine over and over again. But essentially, doesn’t get anywhere. Its pace is foreboding a claim that is merely (not to be). Ordering a newer service too take its rightful place. Space on the other hand, can’t afford consciousnesses claim to help traverse ALL states, when consciousness is still a very limited piece of source material of its own former limited boundaries. Making time less relevant in this scenario. S-so space and time are out! But “pace” still is the “ticking time clock” that keeps on moving forward, even if consciousness isn’t exactly doing anything. (When it truly is…it’s just tripping over it’s very senses the same way people have said “time is relevant”.) It’s still the functioning and operable thing it’s always been. So, in order to simply traverse every property of its very meanings over and over again… Needing pace in order to hold on tightly, as both space and time is limiting their own resources each time that consciousness suspects something could be wrong. Space being in a completely different category of it’s very own needs to own the newer characteristic into being defined as both space and time. Taking time’s spot. While pace takes one half of the spot that space (was once and still currently is in a way) than for it too essentially be removed in order for it to be then (in due time) called simply “pace and time”. Marking space as the newer ownership as being both itself and time (simultaneously)! All at the same point in time. However, that doesn’t exactly mean time is anywhere now but undefined…. How all this essentially works is that when time is not relevant, space takes over ALL priorities (even time itself)! Then pace comes in because time is becoming more and more nonrelevant the more the truth is truly “perceived”, than for it to be normally seen, (as a result). Forcing time to reveal why it is not in fact, relevant. When (truthfully) it is entirely something else altogether. It’s entirely made to go beyond ALL states of matter and consciousness. Simply because where time truly flows from… Or “flows out from” (to be more accurate). Is something going beyond the normal universe (as we know it today), essentially! Some type of known space (I guess too essentially call it) that’s trying to take over the normal universe’s current representations. Something like space wanting to essentially own ALL! Abruptly becoming top dog for ALL staring representations (in the current normal universe) to surround themselves in awe around and around… Showing no further representations available, anymore. Just an empty abyss! Until there was nothing left, but true…empty space!

0

Jul 25, 2020

Jul 25, 2020 at 4:15 PM UTC

simon-7

Time is not relevant!

Time is not as relevant as they say it is. (Tripping over their very senses in the very process that’s getting them…NOWHERE!) It could be, only if “space and time” both actually mattered. Which they entirely don’t when there’s something else that should be added to both space and time, whilst one or the others should be removed (becoming their own stated claim). Meaning space isn’t as relevant as they it is, either. Instead of saying space and time, you should actually be removing the “space” itself and putting the word “pace” in it’s (once thought “spatial” place). Now calling it both “pace and time” for ALL (in due time) too essentially bear! So, if both space a-and time are not relevant, then why does it seem like time doesn’t get the credit it deserves for being the more recognized characteristic of this discussion…? Because space goes in a category of it’s very own. That’s why! Something that need’s ONLY a good pace and time too filter it on through. Because pace is nothing more than the aptitude for something that needs a good time management either (ahead of time or beforehand) for time to not become as relevant as they say it is. Showing the truth behind the matter, altogether. Time being a thing that truly does “transcend” ALL states of matter! And ALL states of consciousness! Even going beyond what any state of consciousness could ever “assess” simply what the entire magnitude of the force of “time” itself truly is about? Nor can consciousness even define its own properties against time, instead (“with time”). When its very meanings aren’t always accountable when trying to always reason through something that essentially goes beyond yourself. For consciousness tries (as it must) to traverse every property of it’s very meaning in order to redefine over and over again. But essentially, doesn’t get anywhere. Its pace is foreboding a claim that is merely (not to be). Ordering a newer service too take its rightful place. Space on the other hand, can’t afford consciousnesses claim to help traverse ALL states, when consciousness is still a very limited piece of source material of its own former limited boundaries. Making time less relevant in this scenario. S-so space and time are out! But “pace” still is the “ticking time clock” that keeps on moving forward, even if consciousness isn’t exactly doing anything. (When it truly is…it’s just tripping over it’s very senses the same way people have said “time is relevant”.) It’s still the functioning and operable thing it’s always been. So, in order to simply traverse every property of its very meanings over and over again… Needing pace in order to hold on tightly, as both space and time is limiting their own resources each time that consciousness suspects something could be wrong. Space being in a completely different category of it’s very own needs to own the newer characteristic into being defined as both space and time. Taking time’s spot. While pace takes one half of the spot that space (was once and still currently is in a way) than for it too essentially be removed in order for it to be then (in due time) called simply “pace and time”. Marking space as the newer ownership as being both itself and time (simultaneously)! All at the same point in time. However, that doesn’t exactly mean time is anywhere now but undefined…. How all this essentially works is that when time is not relevant, space takes over ALL priorities (even time itself)! Then pace comes in because time is becoming more and more nonrelevant the more the truth is truly “perceived”, than for it to be normally seen, (as a result). Forcing time to reveal why it is not in fact, relevant. When (truthfully) it is entirely something else altogether. It’s entirely made to go beyond ALL states of matter and consciousness. Simply because where time truly flows from… Or “flows out from” (to be more accurate). Is something going beyond the normal universe (as we know it today), essentially! Some type of known space (I guess too essentially call it) that’s trying to take over the normal universe’s current representations. Something like space wanting to essentially own ALL! Abruptly becoming top dog for ALL staring representations (in the current normal universe) to surround themselves in awe around and around… Showing no further representations available, anymore. Just an empty abyss! Until there was nothing left, but true…empty space!

1

Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone, However, on this summit - no person can stand alone, Cast the zealot from the thorny throne, Beat them until you hear their soul groan. For it is this persons' mad ignorance, That caused civilisations to be ravaged by pestilence, Causing man to **** man in profitable wars, Bodies of innocence - dream on the calm shores.

0

May 2, 2020

May 2, 2020 at 9:08 PM UTC

TeddyMaloney

Mad Ignorance

Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone, However, on this summit - no person can stand alone, Cast the zealot from the thorny throne, Beat them until you hear their soul groan. For it is this persons' mad ignorance, That caused civilisations to be ravaged by pestilence, Causing man to **** man in profitable wars, Bodies of innocence - dream on the calm shores.

8

Light years away You can find what you’re looking for You feel like you’re trapped In the same routine, it’s monotonous I know But life has its responsibilities And if it didn’t How long can you hold for Because it takes time to change things It takes effort to do things And it takes passion to be patient For you’ll never know What the future holds Some look for happiness Some look for love And others wonder What’s up there up above The clouds hold the truth As the sun spills its secrets The Earth spins round and round To keep you safe and sound We are all walking paradoxes Waiting for our turn to be relevant Light years away I hope you’ll find what you were looking for

0

Apr 18, 2020

Apr 18, 2020 at 5:56 PM UTC

sergwtp

Drones

Light years away You can find what you’re looking for You feel like you’re trapped In the same routine, it’s monotonous I know But life has its responsibilities And if it didn’t How long can you hold for Because it takes time to change things It takes effort to do things And it takes passion to be patient For you’ll never know What the future holds Some look for happiness Some look for love And others wonder What’s up there up above The clouds hold the truth As the sun spills its secrets The Earth spins round and round To keep you safe and sound We are all walking paradoxes Waiting for our turn to be relevant Light years away I hope you’ll find what you were looking for

25

coexistence: intr.v. to live in peace with another or others despite differences, especially as a matter of policy. she had a bumper sticker on the back of her car with the word made up of differences that at the time seemed impossible to be able to live in the same world that car was my childhood even though i never really took the time to think about interwoven ideas until now when it feels like values are being torn in half with a line down the middle separating good from good from bad from bad in greyscale coexistence seems possible in many things. but as much as i want it to be, i don't think this is one of those things. and i'm not ready to lose friends over this when i'm not even sure what i believe.

0

Jul 12, 2019

Jul 12, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC

starsnwaves

this is relevant (just take a sec you'll figure it out)

coexistence: intr.v. to live in peace with another or others despite differences, especially as a matter of policy. she had a bumper sticker on the back of her car with the word made up of differences that at the time seemed impossible to be able to live in the same world that car was my childhood even though i never really took the time to think about interwoven ideas until now when it feels like values are being torn in half with a line down the middle separating good from good from bad from bad in greyscale coexistence seems possible in many things. but as much as i want it to be, i don't think this is one of those things. and i'm not ready to lose friends over this when i'm not even sure what i believe.

20

atomic thunder baby the random things my mind can conjure at this time and hour is amazing i dont even have anything to write about. i just found a draft entitled "Atomic" with nothing on it then like lightning, a sudden surge of verbal impulse got me thinking of an atomic thunder baby i dont even know what it means but it sounds epic and cool hays. what am i even doing with my life why cant i be smart or witty or athletic or have a lot of friends or be mysteriously fascinating or relevant. why cant i be an atomic thunder baby?

0

Feb 9, 2018

Feb 9, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC

Enzomniac

Atomic

atomic thunder baby the random things my mind can conjure at this time and hour is amazing i dont even have anything to write about. i just found a draft entitled "Atomic" with nothing on it then like lightning, a sudden surge of verbal impulse got me thinking of an atomic thunder baby i dont even know what it means but it sounds epic and cool hays. what am i even doing with my life why cant i be smart or witty or athletic or have a lot of friends or be mysteriously fascinating or relevant. why cant i be an atomic thunder baby?

13

women are not beautiful. they are magnetic, majestic, magnificent, they are more than doll bodies and ****** eyes, they are more than what they were born with. women are not beautiful. they are effervescent, enigmatic and evergreen, they are more than paper-thin waistlines and cherry lips, they are more than what the eyes can look upon. women are not beautiful. they are powerful, passionate, and puissant, they are more than barbie figures and pink hemlines, they are not beautiful simply because they are more than that.

0

Feb 5, 2018

Feb 5, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC

valerietan99

women are not beautiful.

women are not beautiful. they are magnetic, majestic, magnificent, they are more than doll bodies and ****** eyes, they are more than what they were born with. women are not beautiful. they are effervescent, enigmatic and evergreen, they are more than paper-thin waistlines and cherry lips, they are more than what the eyes can look upon. women are not beautiful. they are powerful, passionate, and puissant, they are more than barbie figures and pink hemlines, they are not beautiful simply because they are more than that.

12

I can’t enjoy the present I’m busy waiting on the future Working hard to produce so I can be a consumer And my consuming habits have made me decadent Keeping up with the trends in hopes of being relevant Waiting for the next fad to infatuate our mind Mindlessly ******* up our money and our time Timelessly circling in repetitive motion Going through the motions and coming to the notion That life's too short to let it pass you by But now time has passed and it's soon time to die And oh my Give me something to distract my mind I liked the way things looked before when I was blind

0

Jan 30, 2018

Jan 30, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC

andrewknepps

Decadence

I can’t enjoy the present I’m busy waiting on the future Working hard to produce so I can be a consumer And my consuming habits have made me decadent Keeping up with the trends in hopes of being relevant Waiting for the next fad to infatuate our mind Mindlessly ******* up our money and our time Timelessly circling in repetitive motion Going through the motions and coming to the notion That life's too short to let it pass you by But now time has passed and it's soon time to die And oh my Give me something to distract my mind I liked the way things looked before when I was blind

25

I am nothing more than a journal. People pour their soul into my skin and spine, Slowly watching me break and wither, but they continue. I am drowning in pages of sorrow and sadness. And I cannot come up for air. But that is okay, I am nothing more than a journal. People pencil in their stories with hasty tongues and hurtful hearts. They do not see that in turn I am hurting too. For with every tale written, I am losing myself. Not many pages are left. But that is okay, I am nothing more than a journal. People use me to indulge in their thoughts, and once they have had their fill, they are gone. There is a new journal to seek. I am left battered, Destined to be picked up once again, Only to be read and reflected on, Because I am of no substance, I am just a keeper of Theirs. People read me but do not READ me. Because I am nothing more than a journal, And my true contents are blank.

0

May 26, 2017

May 26, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC

phoenixfire

Journal

I am nothing more than a journal. People pour their soul into my skin and spine, Slowly watching me break and wither, but they continue. I am drowning in pages of sorrow and sadness. And I cannot come up for air. But that is okay, I am nothing more than a journal. People pencil in their stories with hasty tongues and hurtful hearts. They do not see that in turn I am hurting too. For with every tale written, I am losing myself. Not many pages are left. But that is okay, I am nothing more than a journal. People use me to indulge in their thoughts, and once they have had their fill, they are gone. There is a new journal to seek. I am left battered, Destined to be picked up once again, Only to be read and reflected on, Because I am of no substance, I am just a keeper of Theirs. People read me but do not READ me. Because I am nothing more than a journal, And my true contents are blank.

25

0

Dec 2, 2016

Dec 2, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC

Moi-Cherie

"Just A Thought Today"

3

Do you ever miss me? Because I always miss you I'm starting to question everything I don't know what to do I can't let anyone in It feels like I'm letting you win You don't want me to be happy with someone else You want me to be miserable by myself

0

Sep 15, 2016

Sep 15, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC

mrm

Lost

Do you ever miss me? Because I always miss you I'm starting to question everything I don't know what to do I can't let anyone in It feels like I'm letting you win You don't want me to be happy with someone else You want me to be miserable by myself

8

Searching for some sort of relevance Something to tie me down -or lift me up Something to keep me in motion -out of my emotions On a path forward Not back around To when I was Sad and Disillusioned

0

Apr 13, 2016

Apr 13, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC

angelique

Relevant

Searching for some sort of relevance Something to tie me down -or lift me up Something to keep me in motion -out of my emotions On a path forward Not back around To when I was Sad and Disillusioned

9

Have you ever looked into a mirror? Of course you have, we all have at some point; but have you ever really looked, deep inside? Like a vortex it will **** you in and you will become committed to picking out each flaw of yourself, as if you were to blow away the delicate petals of a dandelion; one at a time. Honestly and truthfully, do not lie, we would all like to be cynical and selfish, to love ourselves would be one of the greatest pleasures, but mirrors; they are hazardous, distorting our true image until we no longer have anything left to pick out. Yet we still insist on persecuting ourselves? Maybe it is we who distort our own image.

0

Feb 10, 2016

Feb 10, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC

gorexbxby

Mirrors

Have you ever looked into a mirror? Of course you have, we all have at some point; but have you ever really looked, deep inside? Like a vortex it will **** you in and you will become committed to picking out each flaw of yourself, as if you were to blow away the delicate petals of a dandelion; one at a time. Honestly and truthfully, do not lie, we would all like to be cynical and selfish, to love ourselves would be one of the greatest pleasures, but mirrors; they are hazardous, distorting our true image until we no longer have anything left to pick out. Yet we still insist on persecuting ourselves? Maybe it is we who distort our own image.

8

What a hopeless excuse for a human, you plague my brain like a cancerous disease. Tarnishing my will to ever trust again. Your breath is an utter waste, using up oxygen, you still live on unaffected by your wrong-doings. To want you dead would be too kind, as you deserve nothing bar heartbreak and to never find love, slowly killing your mentality until you yourself become nothing. You are no longer worthy of a single thought in my clear and beautiful mind. No more shall your name constrict my vocal cords, restrict my breathing or bring a tear to my eye. This shall be my last thought of you. My last mention as you are vile and I am happy. 'What a hopeless excuse for a human.' THE END

0

Feb 9, 2016

Feb 9, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC

gorexbxby

A true synopsis of Him.

What a hopeless excuse for a human, you plague my brain like a cancerous disease. Tarnishing my will to ever trust again. Your breath is an utter waste, using up oxygen, you still live on unaffected by your wrong-doings. To want you dead would be too kind, as you deserve nothing bar heartbreak and to never find love, slowly killing your mentality until you yourself become nothing. You are no longer worthy of a single thought in my clear and beautiful mind. No more shall your name constrict my vocal cords, restrict my breathing or bring a tear to my eye. This shall be my last thought of you. My last mention as you are vile and I am happy. 'What a hopeless excuse for a human.' THE END

9

He frustrates me, more than you could ever imagine. Twisting my mind until I become dizzy and disorientated from the confusion. The web he weaves of contradictions and uncertainties cuts into my soul, with sharp words. Sharp enough to **** someone, or bring them into insanity. Constant on and off thoughts of "does he want me?" cloud my brain like a song; but I keep going back for more, as he is addictive. He frustrates me, more than you could ever imagine; but my God those eyes, hypnotic, bright. That smirk, as if he knows he has me wrapped around his finger. And I am, he feels like home, in the most beautiful of ways. Warm skinned and cold-hearted, without even a word he keeps me. I am held captive by that gaze, my God those eyes! He frustrates me.

0

Feb 8, 2016

Feb 8, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC

gorexbxby

I am held.

He frustrates me, more than you could ever imagine. Twisting my mind until I become dizzy and disorientated from the confusion. The web he weaves of contradictions and uncertainties cuts into my soul, with sharp words. Sharp enough to **** someone, or bring them into insanity. Constant on and off thoughts of "does he want me?" cloud my brain like a song; but I keep going back for more, as he is addictive. He frustrates me, more than you could ever imagine; but my God those eyes, hypnotic, bright. That smirk, as if he knows he has me wrapped around his finger. And I am, he feels like home, in the most beautiful of ways. Warm skinned and cold-hearted, without even a word he keeps me. I am held captive by that gaze, my God those eyes! He frustrates me.

8

We all have addictions, you were mine. As much as I'll never admit it to you, you run through my veins and poison my blood. They say to not smoke past the number on the bottom of the cigarette but I do anyway in hopes of burning your breath out of my lungs, giving myself a new reason to struggle to breathe rather than the thoughts of you. Tainted like an iron brand your name is imprinted. I scratch at the deepest corners of my mind trying to get rid of it but somehow you're still there. My lips, memories of yours on them, biting off skin hoping it will take off your old touch. I have changed the bed sheets more times than I can count but still your presence lingers, sitting on the edge, smirking. All these thoughts of you and still I know I do not even cross your mind. I thought you were gone permanently but forever was mistaken for just a moment in time, and here you are again, clouding my mind.

0

Oct 14, 2015

Oct 14, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC

gorexbxby

Clouded

We all have addictions, you were mine. As much as I'll never admit it to you, you run through my veins and poison my blood. They say to not smoke past the number on the bottom of the cigarette but I do anyway in hopes of burning your breath out of my lungs, giving myself a new reason to struggle to breathe rather than the thoughts of you. Tainted like an iron brand your name is imprinted. I scratch at the deepest corners of my mind trying to get rid of it but somehow you're still there. My lips, memories of yours on them, biting off skin hoping it will take off your old touch. I have changed the bed sheets more times than I can count but still your presence lingers, sitting on the edge, smirking. All these thoughts of you and still I know I do not even cross your mind. I thought you were gone permanently but forever was mistaken for just a moment in time, and here you are again, clouding my mind.

7

her eyes were heavy, her lips, sunken, she couldn’t even pull a smirk. her body felt cold, mind distant. everything felt like work. she tried so hard to impress, from the way she talked, her personality, even the way she dressed. but here’s the thing no one knows, the letters she would write, the secret codes. No one picked up how sad she was, until it was too late, she was already, a lot cause.

0

Sep 19, 2015

Sep 19, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC

gorexbxby

Lost

her eyes were heavy, her lips, sunken, she couldn’t even pull a smirk. her body felt cold, mind distant. everything felt like work. she tried so hard to impress, from the way she talked, her personality, even the way she dressed. but here’s the thing no one knows, the letters she would write, the secret codes. No one picked up how sad she was, until it was too late, she was already, a lot cause.

17

the freckles that paint her skin make for the most interesting constellations. it is as if galaxies fill her cheeks and reflect into her eyes. but do not connect too many as you will lose count of her. if you look close enough past the light, you'll see her soul, but beware not to wander too deep in fear you'll get lost in a twisted, endless maze known as her mind. although dangerous, she has a beautiful spirit, much like the ocean. cold, lonely and impulsive but inviting, mysterious and deep.

0

Sep 16, 2015

Sep 16, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC

gorexbxby

Being

the freckles that paint her skin make for the most interesting constellations. it is as if galaxies fill her cheeks and reflect into her eyes. but do not connect too many as you will lose count of her. if you look close enough past the light, you'll see her soul, but beware not to wander too deep in fear you'll get lost in a twisted, endless maze known as her mind. although dangerous, she has a beautiful spirit, much like the ocean. cold, lonely and impulsive but inviting, mysterious and deep.

3

she was 17 wishing she was 6, feet under, not years old. The sun had never felt so distant. although alive she was not living, unlike the plants that grew beside her, but like the ones inside her, tainted and uncontrolled . he was 17 looking for galaxies in the eyes of people who didn’t deserve even a star. wishing on dead dreams with a broken heart. although breathing he was drowned by the alcohol he immersed himself in, found washed up and barely conscious in the local bar. they were 17 rotting at the soul, waiting for the moment they would fall, lonely. although exhausted and ready to go, found themselves not so much alone. staring in the eyes of one-another, lost no longer, but now found and feeling at home.

0

Sep 16, 2015

Sep 16, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC

gorexbxby

Us

she was 17 wishing she was 6, feet under, not years old. The sun had never felt so distant. although alive she was not living, unlike the plants that grew beside her, but like the ones inside her, tainted and uncontrolled . he was 17 looking for galaxies in the eyes of people who didn’t deserve even a star. wishing on dead dreams with a broken heart. although breathing he was drowned by the alcohol he immersed himself in, found washed up and barely conscious in the local bar. they were 17 rotting at the soul, waiting for the moment they would fall, lonely. although exhausted and ready to go, found themselves not so much alone. staring in the eyes of one-another, lost no longer, but now found and feeling at home.

3