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KCibot Jul 10

Verse 1:

A gun's pressed up
Against my head
All the time
In my mind

I see a sea
Of violet red
All the time
In my mind

I feel
A pain
That Ne
Ver fades

I hear
A scream
And then
I see


A million ways
That I could die
I feel them all

I hope that
They will come
Come and
Take me

A million ways
That I could die
I see them
In my

I pray that
They will come
Come and
Save me

Verse 2:

The executioner
Takes my hand
And leads me to
My final stand

He asks me for
My last remarks
But I have none
Just hit your mark

Cause I feel
A pain
That ne
Ver fades

I hear
A scream
And then
I see


Verse 3:

No I don't want
An easy death
I want to taste
My final breath

I want to feel
The sweet relief
That only death
Can bring to me

I wanna feel my
Final breath
I wanna sha ake
The hand of death

I wanna fe eel the
Sweet relief
Tha at

Sidney Chelle Nov 2018
the first time a girl put her hand up my shirt,
i discovered i have a, uh,
a, uh,
a, uh...
duh-uh-o, do you know the feeling when you're on the precipice of something and you're this close?
i was this close, and she asks me, "is this okay?" and i say,
f-f-f-fu-uck it f-feels guh-guh-guh-guh-uh-
GOD this feels bad, what i'm guh-getting at is i have a m-******* stutter!
yeah, maybe you won't hear it when we talk about class or work or that ******* **** that we met yesterday, but press those lips to my neck and chuh-chuh-check it out y'all!
my verbal clutter is my diaphragm's way of bouncing out ***** talk, chalk it up to muscles aflutter or some mental shudder when it comes to confronting my fee-ee-eelings, but eh-eh-every time she fu-ucking touches me my brain runs off squealing!
she turns to me, she says, “what's going on?” i say, oh buh-uh-uh-baby, i'm way too far gone.
y-your h-hands are bur-urning me up, i thi-ink i might ruh-uh-upture something if you g-get too close.
you know i want you the muh-uh-ost but guh-god my ******* tuh-uh-ongue isn't wuh-working, can i buh-orrow yours?
i took speech classes. i know how to enunciate, pontificate, exonerate, and yet never in ******* debate did i learn what to do when your anxiety won't abate.
i know this is a spate of splutter, i'm trying my best to utter what's going on in my mind, gorgeous, but my larynx is moving like a tortoise on crack, my mutter is trying to thwart us and i just can't fight back!
she says “take a deep breath,” i say g-god, give me death (and a ******* thesaurus).
let me delineate this a little more. sure, my attitude acts slack but what's wack is i asphyxiate when i step out of my comfort zone like i just stepped into outer space.
you might associate me talking like a chuh-chuh-chuh-cheap drum track with h-humiliating ****** encounters, but let me beg to differ.
i'm a p-pro at initiating, i give her wh-what she wants even if i do have a lot to uh-unpack. what can i s-say? i deliver.
so here's my th-ee-esis, ladies.
if a girl says what that mouth do, i ask her, buh-baby, what're y-you in the m-mood f-for?
i'm a g-giver, this juh-aw cl-cl-learly moves quih-icker than hu-uman brains are suh-uh-pposed to be thinking, so how about we buh-board this oh-oh-oral migr-gr-graine and ta-ake a o-one-way tra-a-ain to an ear-earthquake-sized shiver?
my t-tongue may be t-******* in knots, but i have lots of other ways to communicate how i appreciate the way you look right now. i can elucidate any spots of confusion for a beautiful being as venusian as you, because boo, in seclusion, there’s no disillusion that these college cots simply can’t bear the fusion of something as incredible as us.
but what i don't want is for you to pretend like it's ****. to s-eh-ex me can be hard; we're gonna need some hand signals, some honest discussion, definitely some patience with every kiss.
but let me ask you this:
would you prefer silence?
this is way better when it's performed but i tried to transcribe it to writing as best as i could. i hope y'all like it!
ryn Mar 6
•high in the
mountains, he grew we-
ary                 and ragged•
•                     his sight turned
                           cloudy, chin un-
                             shaven and face hag-
                                    gard•removed his boots
                                    for his feet did stink•
                                  sleep he wanted but not
                                without a drink•one big
                              swig and he downed it all•
                        then he was asleep before the
                      sun could fall•many days visited,
             many shadows cast•over this slum-
     bering man, many moons had passed
•one fateful day, his eyes did twitch
and then did open•he sprung aw-
ake to the life he had forsaken•his
musket dusty, his clothes in di-
sarray•his chin - a long beard
that has seen countless days•he
ran to his home before noontime
chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept

a lifetime•

— The End —