#scrape
the sun is a done
bun hon'.
worry now,
it can't be undone.
hurry now,
your pens and paper for fun.
you know it's too soon
to feel the flurry bow
down to rend bones
into red and vapor for fun.
so **** my **** and call me cherry.
pour the sherry one more time,
I can feel the divine
flesh and scrape her for fun.
knives and saccharine,
guns to blow the *****
off each and every one.
don't worry hon',
it's just for fun.
Mar 15, 2022
Mar 15, 2022 at 4:15 PM UTC
Four dandy buildings,
Jostling to scrape the sky.
One seems to be hiding,
All the rest quoth"Why"
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 11:49 PM UTC
this ******* thing came to this:
two brains, sever and split.
two pigs, top of the town,
made marquee marked on the ground!
punctuate!
i'm smothered, but
the fourth wall's
done getting scraped!
version one point one was nothing new,
these scrapes make room for version one point two.
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 2:22 AM UTC
Sometimes I feel
I am no longer writing for myself,
but rather becoming more like an elf.
Working and writing for everyone,
but myself.
I feel the need to keep my followers
entertained consistently and constantly
out of the fear I may lose my audience.
I feel I lost the purpose of my writing,
finding myself writing to the others liking
rather than expressing the voice within me.
For, once writing felt like a destress
but now it seems more of a stress.
I find myself beating my mind,
scraping for ideas,
juicing what's left within me,
to be drained
just to post consistently.
It's important to remember
to put yourself first above others.
To express to your likings and authenticity.
To not lose one self in the muddle of others
demands, voices and likings.
To remember the reason,
why you initially started.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
my ribcage scrapes against my heart
body
soul
but isn’t supposed to
protect me?
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
I basked in the light
Of the present moments sight
But all of a sudden
Your words triggered a bitter memory
And now I want to visit an infirmary.
But oh wait this can’t be bandaged to heal
For it is a resurface from a wreckage.
It crawls from the breakage
With a clinging message
that causes landslides
and scrapes my insides.
My thoughts collide
as my emotions become tide.
My lips become sealed
As I no longer want to speak.
But then I’ll lose my mystique
And become invisible;
Vincible
In the hands of my shadowy past.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:54 AM UTC
When we scrape our knees as children,
our parents taught us to get up and keep a going.
See obstacles in life
the tornados, hurricanes, and walls,
like scratches, cuts, bruises, and sometimes breaks.
See them as opportunities to rise up
and face the new day.
To keep going with optimism,
as taught but sometimes forgotten.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
I'd like to cover
our concrete fence
with white paint all over
:::::::::::::::::::
it is right now, choking
with an overgrowth of healthy moss...
i intend to wipe the spreading green
off its surface
:::::::::::::::::::
............it seems too cruel, though,
plucking....scraping....or pulling something
.....away from its habitation,
......................its comfort zone
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
i thought it similar to something
that had happened a long time ago...
..................it left us with no choice,
.........we had to leave the house
where we were born
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
my mother, my siblings and i,
we moved in
....with my aunt and her family,
.....................in a faraway place
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
things weren't the same again
.............after my father died...
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright September 15, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
I drag my nails down my thighs
creating furious jagged lines
surrounded by cloudy milk white.
it stings less than the sadness I feel.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC