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Lucas Lowman Apr 2014
Waking up in a hazy fog
Regular Sunday Morning
It is Sunday right?

Bits and pieces of last night rushing to the forefront of my mind
but a feeling that there's a missing piece of vital information

aaaaaaand there's a stranger next to me
she's so still!
she's alive
God I hope she's alive
My jeans are still on so we obviously didn't do anything
wait why are my jeans ripped?
Did they come this way?
No they didn't
did they?
my shoes are still on too
well at least one is anyway
where the hell is my other shoe
how does somebody lose one shoe
losing a pair is actually more understandable

I should probably go wash the glitter off my hands
wait why do I have glitter on my hands?

aaaaand I have a black eye
who did I fight?
probably got my *** handed to me
or maybe I beat up an *******!
no probably the former
I can't fight for ****

My head is killing me
part hangover
part concussion

I should probably call somebody
help fill me on what the hell happened last night
Aw **** where the hell is my phone?
wait where the hell is my wallet?!

Well ****... ****** memory, comatose stranger in my bed, ripped jeans (although I'm 73 percent sure they came this way), missing a shoe, glitter hands, black eye, sore head, no phone, and no wallet

I ******* love saturday nights
M Clement Apr 2014
Aaaaah, ***** my side-ache
And ***** me inside

I left my mind back a couple of days ago,
I'm behind on the times

Football, Meetball, Youball, eyeball

Wordplay's for *******, and I'm oh so catty.

What's wrong with digestion?
And where's my humerus when I need it most?

I have little left to say to either you or I, but I'll keep talking so it looks like I'm halfway to a quarter of insanity.

I miss not touchés or is it touches?
Relationships, man.
What's the best of these and what's the worst of 'em?

Strap me to a bomb so my thoughts get exploded for all to see.

I never wanted to put you ahead of me,
and that's a lie.
Rory Herd Aug 2014
Under pretenses of platonic embraces
You placed me in your dark spaces
Seems i'm left to try putting pieces back together
Or dare to stop the yelling in all forms of weathered
Your wounds old as my half-life
A knife-artist with words your whetstone's worn from tears
And fears
Inspired by years of life read strife
In which dynamic characters play out their rage but there is no separating stage
To guard an audience too young an age
Witnessing rated 14 years of pain coming frequently to term in your dynamic rib-cage
Only to be released like one of Gigers beasts
Tell me how you entertain healing with your lesions so unyielding
When your brows wielding a dark frown it cues a cowards heart to fall down
I must confess my weakness' too strong to state psychological fact
Thus I would retroact as I came back after every attack
To this day my silence threatens more verbal violence
But I can't blame me as i'm not the only one to see what prunes this knotted family tree
We all suffered cuts by our lucidity
As we just try to be while on the perifery of such ugly scenes
Choosing instead to close an eye while our ears heard you mutually belie
Rather than wield the truth and be free of s(illy noise)
I wish you would truly lose it
Then this tale of anguish might end
But until then from dark pasts and burning astrology you won't be free
Your troubles need drugs emotion and stimulating company
Now which of those is most addictive to your egochemistry
Continually self-medicating to satiate such neuro-chemochotomies
The thrill of tripping skipping flipping dipping back into youth
Do we not serve to intoxicate you remake you ten times tall and years-lost proof
And in return the kitchen hordes and possibility doors we're open to yes I won’t fail to mention the gifts given above all of which was the two of you


By nature tragic
This tangent
Can't walk away once one’s chose the path of magic
So graphic
It's embarrassing to ever have had it
Hate no wit
These are the wounds I keep open from view
So no more shall I lay for you
For shame I speak then I make it true
Beggars can choose not to be fools but
These days i'm kool, gravediggin' on Dr. Seuss
( Dust Kings line: Now there's a playa who spoke the truth)

An unseen tapestry of majesty alludes to pagan revelry
only in the lines beside our eyes while the tale flows forth from the massives mind
it speaks of times of joy and height
In which we’d play and with sticks fight
the day
or contrast it’s way
For does not the dark shimmer around the bright
That we were hahh the feeling so pure
I must heed the god of audio
To which we’d all bow so low
Like hierophants the more we’d know
the more we would then grow
into a united flow
did carry us
like waterfalling up to drink supernal highs
Where boredom dares to go and dies
Shall we soar with a cccccometeor
and finally arrive
To a not so modest eden
Source of body mind soul feedin’
Where there grew a paradise of seats, and blankets, fires, sweet tea and loquatious freaks
And maybe some enlightening treats
what feats were inspired by the beats
And endless, endless pages of dreams!
And ancient wisdom stacked in reams against all walls they were the beams
which held the roof above our centers
To a place that if you did enter
Would stay inside of you forever
Ye traveller know what that threshold offers
A hospitality unmatched by emperors coffers
A spectrum of pleasures amid pain from swift boffers
And company of quality untouched by the weight of dollars
Dare to release the big red latch
and watch what mayhem unleashed that we dare catch
If one should be so lucky
and yes we found each other so very funny
and if the walls could speak they would only laugh or wryly beware
There’s just nothing to compare
To growing up and out and everywhere
As we did when we tred there

The best of times are yet to come but with no little death
And yet I sometimes wonder how much ppppparty we have left
But no words will reflect said bounties or meet the scales of justice
If that bird rocked to this scene, she’d get loose and lustrous


Not wholly tragic
Lifes tangent
I can walk where I please cast my own hands magic
Foot traffic
The best times do rhyme I know ‘cause I had it
A Deep graphic
I’ve danced with witches, fairies, kooks it’s true
What stories doth desire choose
Quite a bit of fun the two of you
Beggars learnt to live like lords it’s lewd
Aaaaand i'm still kool, gravediggin' on Alliterine Use


I learned the difference between bullstool and dreams
And it seems
That in between
So many passionate empathies and of the things you said to me which further your hypocrisy
There lies a respect not grudgingly cloaking a love of sound mind soul body which sees it’s mishaps p’raps and each repeat one agrees that ones heart feels dark when one succeeds to see what hurts a family tree
To ignore ones own lucidity Is stupidity insulting our intelligent tendencies
So now here see
We’re all ruled by our cruel feelings and selfish dreams as we all shoot for our own ending
Our heads never above our hearts it’s an ugly anatomy
Feel what I mean
So I won’t deny that by mistakes you witnessed of mine so many times I finally realised how to walk alright
And what it means for responsibility to be tried
To hold my head up so I can wield my hands and just maybe to be my own man
Those fools duels are not aside for you cried by spite to get me out of your life for just a while after you decide that what’s in your heart can hurt mine by an extreme vindictive right
So flightly I would leave nightly I’d fight me when I look back to see  where venom has thus struck thee
You didn’t see me
But one does realize what lies or rather cries inside and how it might set ones words alight


Truthfully tragic
One’s tangent
None of us seem to know all the magic
Fantastic
Let’s keep trying ‘till mastery is graspeedegh ( epic troll)
-wibblestick
I want to rob a punk band with a shoe
Pulled off with good insights and tunes
Could be a spot of fun if you’re upto
Crunk your young selves yelling to be used
Beggars choose
To be with good company who feel the blues as well as all the other hues
Atypnoc May 2015
I'm not in the hospital, hit by a car
I know I'm not online as much; I'm not far
from finally finishing out my degree!
Ten days til a Bachelor of PSYCHOLOGY!

Though yes, sad to say, the mishap from last night
Proved unsalvageable what took me all day to write.
But after the panic subsided, in spite
Of the loss I decided to invite
a CAN-DO mantra, that today still recite:

"Citing every source
providing claims; unless, of course,
the statements you express
are YOURS. Original.  Then, yes."

Would be no need to cite,
but I digress; I still endorse
vehemently: just reinforce
Pre-existing bodies,
    empiric and peer-reviewed,
Must become one with your own body,
     long before you can conclude
Much of anything; that, at best,
Could be considered misconstrued.
Which I reckon may elicit a subjectively quite rude
Swing at a pitch from your perspective you thought beckoned attitude
So rather than succumbing, and becoming quite contrite,
Just cite every sentence as though you know of no greater delight
 
AAAAAND
For the friends and acquaintances from on-the-line:
Out among ye mulls around an enemy of thine.
And by proxy, or  vis-a-vis? Uh, nemesis of mine?
Either way, it's a PHONEY! I promise I'm fine!

I wasn't mowed down while crossing a street
By a drunk driver; don't buy into this deceit!
When the hell have you known of me to be on the loose,
And outdoors by a street, with no **** good excuse!

Nah, brah; didn't get rek't, not in the ICU,
Anything 80_hospital says isn't true.
It's hard to imagine why someone would do
Such a thing, and hard to try and imagine who...

Nevertheless: til the mocking bird is absconding
Believe none are who they claim if they're responding
With something extreme, but failing to show face
And put shoe on head or something else, just in case

That for reasons beyond rational ways of thought,
Someone's chosen to wreak havoc on the distraught
At least until that jacka$$ sh!# f#@%er gets caught,
Just, my two cents? If they say "no I swear," they're not.
Thomas Owen Nov 2010
A steady stream bellowing out my nose
i wanted to play today sniveling staring at my toes
why now must i feel so, voice hoarse cannot go
cannot speak, cannot sleep, even force of will fails me.
Stuck in bed enjoing a *** head eating at my brain
as zombiesaurus might know, i too am going insane,
crumbly delight, a ******* helps fight with crunchy grain
ahd and aaaaand now i, sqhinting, can barely see.
Even so i roll with it, my thoughts and me, we are
desperation to derision, derivition a bit far
the demons within trying to be free i sternly bar
God help me, i'd feel good though if freely they'd be.
Coughing hurts again, feels i'll never win, never win i say
but through the delerium, i cut through a foggy bay
whats this i see, mom with soup, i might survive i may
warm feelings abound, a smile in my face, not the worst day.
Sometimes Starr Nov 2016
i will never be the same again.

it's not terrible
it's terrifying

it's nothing new
it's pervasive

it's nothing surprising
it's perverted

you inspire me to such extremes of my soul
aaaaand i'm sorry about it.

— The End —