#robbed
my name is august
auggie is a cute nickname
but august will always stick to my fingers and clothes
(it’s sexier to whisper when he’s ********** me)
i am kind and gentle
is it possible to be too gentle?
yes it is because why else do they leave?
why else did he leave?
(i am a pomegranate they think too much to work and unpeel. they cannot handle the juice stains that come with the fruit, that’s why they buy the already prepared ones from the store.)
im too gentle
where i find security and give love in holding his hand,
he feels cold handcuffs rusting around his wrist
when i’m done holding him there are claw marks
and blood dripping down from harshly teared skin
are my fingers razors, sharp like the blades i hold to my own wrist?
i am kind,
i am too kind that i choke the others around me
honey dripped words i force down their throat, too layered and thick for them to handle while i smile at them stupidly not knowing i am the criminal
i try to be soft, i try to be kind, i try to be gentle but i think the causing problem is that they forget i like to be called auggie
although my name is not august. it never was.
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 3:02 PM UTC
Shall I spill words?
Shall I spill tears?
Or Shall I spill blood?
Indegenious to my nature is the fact,
That it can't stay,
It needs to flow,
It needs to be felt and heard by another existence,
A much kinder and understanding one
Hitherto,
the sacrifice to spill has left a dauntingly adverse repression,
Nothing has sustained,
all has been robbed,
"Shall I spill away all that has been left of me?"she wonders
Sep 21, 2024
Sep 21, 2024 at 3:51 PM UTC
work robs me of my life
without paying enough
to compensate
for the crime
I wasn't made for the
nine till five
corporate passion
is not my style
I'm for the weekends
the holidays
work to live
not the other way round
I want the time back
to sit and stare
for boredom
drinking
self indulgent dreams
never fulfilled
Aug 6, 2021
Aug 6, 2021 at 3:55 AM UTC
Is violence
the intention
and action
to harm other people?
Is the target of violence
joyful and happy?
Ask someone who's been robbed at knifepoint?
Ask a wife who’s being bashed by her husband?
Ask a child who’s being beaten-up by a bully?
Is the doer of violence
joyful and happy?
Ask a person barking toxic speech?
Ask a mother who’s beating her child?
Ask a robber confined in prison for many years?
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 6:05 PM UTC
would it really be a crime,
for you and i to stand side by side?
would it truely bring dispare
for you and i to share
would it bring joy
for you and i to enjoy,
this soft embrace
just one time?
a kiss as soft as snow
a subtle touch of hands,
oh darling,
would it truely enrage the land
for us to just hold hands?
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 7:17 AM UTC
A mask with a face that no one knew
But you
I let you see me
Be with me
Naked and scared I lie awake now
Your selfish words still robbing me
How?
And now you say that I am guilty
But I shared with you my reality
Everything I knew about myself at that time
But after time
You began slipping
Tripping
Falling into the cracks of your own mask
So I gotta ask
Was it the pressure of your own fears that broke you?
Because I was nothing but kind to you
There for you
When the rest of the world refused to be
And now that we
are nothing but strangers
*were nothing but strangers
Somehow your walls
= my mask?
Your fears
for my innocence?
I should no longer have to suffer
From your hesitance
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 2:46 AM UTC
For the first time when I saw you
You were gossiping and giggling with your friends which I assumed them to be
Second I saw you being pinched in your naval by one of our classmates
After a year or so we had a good bond
When I saw you smooching that very guy
It felt a little bad , but still hadn't an issue
Days went then weeks and months
That giggle, your behavior had changed a bit
We had exchanged our cell no's
Had been talking late night
You're the one who gifted me something for the first time in a long
We had started altering our schedules with each other's priorities
It went for few months when
I decided to break the ice between our friendship-cum-love
I proposed you on the day of our board exam
You didn't replied for days ,just to say
BK I do love you BUT......
And that was it . At least from your side
You never called again nor did I
Friends made fun of mine when I cried
Just cause I'm a boy and boys don't cry
It's been 2 years now
I still go through our conversations,
Your pictures and every moment I could remember .....
Just to remind myself that how cheated I'd been
Never to fall in that situation again
Weather it was my "pious love" or " you attracting beauty that lead me to have a infatuation towards you"
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
she drove a block
through the middle
of my man and I
she performed it with a
callousness of ply
into his heart
she wormed her way
not a bit of feeling for
me did she display
all the time pretending
to be my friend
but only doing that
in benefiting her own end
she got what she
wanted so badly
my man fell into
her arms gladly
she hooked him
as a seductress
he was so readily
reeled into her caress
she robbed
she robbed
she robbed me blind
she pulled off the greatest robbery
robbing me blind
she took the love
of my life without any regard
only ever caring
for her home yard
she never gave a
thought to my emotions
when using her
sensual potions
my man she did
shrewdly impound
spinning her spider web
around and around
out of our bed
he did stray
she had the bait which
caused our love to fray
she robbed
she robbed
she robbed me blind
she pulled off the greatest robbery
robbing me blind
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
You won't know
They don't know
I'm still suspended
In space, beautiful blooms deadheaded.
I couldn't flow
Couldn't write.
Blinders blocking sight,
Words unspoken in my throat,
A sea of death I wasn't afloat.
All that was lost was robbed
Left alone with with a heart that throbbed.
But I didn't understand,
Now I do,
All that rain reaps only more rain,
You must find fire for every droplet of water.
Find the inferno and burn to live,
Biologically driven, life's not yours to give.
You will breath,
You have your breathe,
You fight death
And will not leave.
You have choice
Just use your voice.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 3:05 AM UTC
*my version of love
is getting robbed eight times
in a row
on the same street corner,
and hoping today will be different*
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 8:38 AM UTC
Geoffrey slipped in the shower stall
bashed his head against the wall
went to heaven
sent to hell
robbing Peter, paying Paul
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC
Time never stops.
It waits for no one.
It doesn't care
whether it's the moon
or whether it's the sun
time just marches on
and leaves us all feeling robbed
and needing more
but the worst thing about time
is the way it seems to pour
through our fingers
like grains of sand
and no matter how hard we try
seems we can never plan
to have enough
to save it up,
to make it stay
time just keeps slipping, slipping
far far away...
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 11:43 PM UTC
I've gone around the world in my life
seen wonders and monuments
hasn't taken much strife.
The sights and the smells that I've had for myself
and the stories I've heard
I cannot retell.
I've been greeted by all, sometimes hugged
but always watch your back
'cause once I was mugged.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 8:17 PM UTC
What if you were poison. This room was a gurney. My parents garage was a time machine. My drawers were a piece of unwritten elementary homework. My bed was a stalemated chess game. Every pair of shoes I've ever worn is one of the beaches I never went swimming at. My laundry were soldier's garbs. I'm living in four minute increments. Two yellow chairs are an empty wine cellar. Two doorknobs an ancient battle field. I have green pants and they might be the entire state of Florida. My book shelf is a poem by Keats, and the books on it are The Village Green. This printer is actually an English love affair. The paper inside of it a pasture, a meadow, and even parts of a rill but not the water in it. I see words scribbled in notebooks and they don't produce melodies. This is a heavy place to use candles. These are the trousers I wear when no one is watching me. Three DVD's tell a story, but no one listens to stories anymore. A carton of cigarettes is a hospital full of people working, a metaphor that doesn't need to be made but should instead be written down. Chocolate bars are all around us, better to keep them quiet. My childhood is drifting off to sleep in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white crew neck t-shirt. Hush Hush. A god hidden inside a scrap of prose that always wanted to hide away but never could. Here are the limbs I'm beating myself to death with. Here are the headaches that I rubbed from your neck; the apple juice and animal crackers that brought both of us back to life, the Wichita suitcase filled with field grains and soy that only made your Grandfather rich. I'm bruise-bent on discussing the never ending. I've filled my head with the status of ritual, I've crossed my legs and enriched my mind with dozens of proverbs, adverbs, and ad lib; nothing that ever once was could be, and nothing that has been could ever be as easy again. Each hill top is a summit worth standing upon. Every picture is a place worth returning to. If every sentence structure and bomb of the mouth was the furnace heating an article at the end of a sentence, or the sentiment with which to generate a sonnet, then mornings could be the clusters to every ache and evolving vowel. Each and every worry would be a giant and the juggernaut which knocked him down. Maybe your ****** is a tooth brush. Maybe mine is just ****** Maybe every inch of my body is made up of locks and caveats. I could retreat to the wilderness, a place where the trees are ornaments to the sky, and the stars are just the songs we don't hear. Heat is a conundrum, the water and the air too. We're longing our way to infinity, chancing ourselves by adhering to dross and sinching our hearts of blood. What if Chicago was the biggest love story of all and I was just not observant enough to notice. I've gone down in three hundred airplanes. What if worry was the tea I declined, heartache the questions I didn't ask and the wishes I never answered. What if your mother was also poison, your sister the true love I unrequitted, your brothers the Roman soldiers which saved us all. I long to be close to the ocean, I retch and thrash, drawing shivers up and down my spine. Here are the shadows aplenty. The heaviest of the hours that save on us like we were up from zero, still and counting on ourselves. These are the lines that I'm petting heavily, washing up and down, left to right, horrific nightmares that come and go as they please. All is left to be said again. Castes are bids meant to be said again. I've been taught to live well even as a quiet mess, to be white while the day's break is still to come. What if leather was the only way I knew how to fly. Bubblebaths the only luxuries I never settled. Your kitchen the last place I felt fully loved. Here is where I reappear. Countries that I've traveled to in languages I taught myself to speak. Wit the wild bunch of berries I crushed into my own craft cocktails. I'm quaffing and I'm trapping. I'm riddled with night and I still can't stand up straight. This is the last place I remember being. Turning over in my gravest stare, and gazing long into the never ending stereotype of my merchant birth and stately hide. This may be the song that sets my tone. This might be the song that describes me best. Never published or punctuated. Always thriving in bated breaths. Always living just an inch from the soon. Here where the moon men trip and fall. Here where the pronouns leave every thing left unsaid.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 3:55 AM UTC
Maids at noon
Performers in the eve'
Maria and Ayla worked,
For every penny they stole.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
It was that night everything changed,
How it would make all my sweet and innocent memories fade.
It was just a party,
I was with older kids,
I would be fine…right?
It started to get a bit chilly,
The wind seemed to pierce my legs and arms like mini needles,
Maybe I shouldn't have worn this outfit.
I asked her if I could borrow a sweater,
She said to go ahead and find one I liked,
I was looking for one in her closet when I felt cold hands grab my waist,
It has him.
Him.
The one who has stolen who I used to be.
He pulled me against him,
it hurt, and
I screamed out,
Nobody heard me.
I got pushed to the wall,
my skull throbbing in pain,
I couldn't care less,
I was paying attention to the look in his ice cold eyes.
He pulled me up by my hair,
I was kicking him as hard as I could to get him away from me,
Nothing I did could stop him now.
He grabbed my face and forced a kiss,
His lips were chapped and tasted of alcohol,
It tasted disgusting.
He shoved me and I tripped on to the bed.
Laying on my back,
Faced up,
When I saw him appear above me I started to swing my arms to hopefully hit him.
He pinned me down and I began to realize what was happening.
I tried to scream but nothing came out,
How could I be so stupid?
He ripped my shorts off of me,
And he took his jeans off.
Why would any monster do this?
“Please…”
"Stop..."
"Why are you doing this to me?”
He had a grin on his face,
He was content with what he saw,
All I wanted to do was slap the look off his face.
I shut my eyes,
And counted to make it all go away.
I tried to picture a field,
You know like the ones with lilies and dandelions all around.
And then that’s when he started speaking.
“Tell me you like it..."
“Tell me how good I am.”
His voice so deep and raspy,
Making me shiver as it echoed into my right ear.
He knew what he had done,
And he didn’t care.
He didn’t care that I would have to remember this moment for the rest of my life.
He didn’t care that I would have to live with pain and fear for the rest of my life.
He didn’t care that he was robbing me.
Robbing me of my real smile,
my real laugh,
my sanity,
my sleep,
my virginity.
Me.
He robbed me of who I was.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC
Searched for razor sharp teeth
To tear at my benevolent heart
But my monster
Never hid under my bed
Or rested in my head
His disguise was a smile
Stitched
To perfection
Searched for the man in a mask
To raid me
But he never stole anything tangible
Or that could be replaced
His camaflouge skin was
Stretched over
Empty bones
I searched for signs
Yellow like the sun
Caution
But my assailant
Looks just like
You and I
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC