Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
toleomato Dec 2020
I wished a wish
upon a star,
a wish so small
on such so far.
I won't be sad if
it does not come true,
to have is a wish
is something too.
toleomato Dec 2020
On the bus ride home
I woke up
with my face resting
against the shoulder
of a stranger.
toleomato Dec 2020
I look at my poems
and find
that they are
worth writing
but not
toleomato Nov 2020
I peered into a sink
and a fish
at me.

such dull
lifeless eyes
struck me with
a hint of
fatalistic humour,
as if asking me
"what is for dinner?"
toleomato Nov 2020
what's with
all the arguing?
words won't solve anything.
strip him down
and take his ****
and measure it by the inch.
that'll decide it.
beat the **** of them
and whoever
doesn't die first
that's who's right.
carve chunks of flesh
out of his arm
and make him dance
while he *****
a thousand pretty women,
just so he can show
how the facts are on his side.
let him pray to god
and ask
to **** every *******
who is different
and let god do as he does
as if everyone was a *******
toleomato Nov 2020
I pen a poem
a beautiful
and think that maybe
it is about a woman instead.

in disgust,
i throw it away.

not that i hate her,
the contrary,
but to me,
it seems,
a flower cannot be a flower
and a woman
cannot be a woman.
toleomato Nov 2020
There is futility
in this relentless
that paralyzes me
like a knife
in my gut.

i revile ***
yet it is inescapable.
literature is
littered with it
as if
it's something
worth celebrating,
to be written about
over and over again
with the same words,
with the same ****** phrases
that attempt to approximate it
to something pure
something valuable,
as if it is not done
out of utter necessity
to keep
that knife
out of their gut.

the intense desire
to put a ****
into a ******
or an *******
is worthless,
yet unrelenting.
it is as bukowski has said,
a dog from hell.
it comes like the tide,
it never leaves,
whether it is satiated or not,
it's always there,
what terrible stuff.

if to truly love
one must ****
then love is not worth it,
then love itself is futile,
to give is nothing
and to reciprocate is nothing
in the face of eternity,
i am so tired of it,
let it stop.
Next page