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"batshit" poems
*Story.. Stories I have a story to tell It's a tragic one as usual* A day goes by. Silence reigns and birds cuckoo While this happens.. Two people sit under a tree Using it as a rendezvous For usual meetings They met... Once... In ten days They enjoyed it I helped another person and he tried to help me I did a better job of helping him that's what I think.. Anyways, once they met they enjoyed it they would talk together and climb a tree Play with a dog, which was a golden retriever They are big! It was a lot of fun Often playing Videogames like.. Mario kart..? That was a day and it happened on an occasional basis when both of them could spare some time from their daily time consuming life ---------------------------------------------------------------- One day however A bright sunny day A sunday afternoon filled with birds flying about nearly the end of the school year It was all going by wonderfully We had met another time because you called me and told me to help you out and just to relieve the stress that the school year had put on us We climbed a tree with a rope on it it was pretty tall about 10 feet high I remember talking about self harm.. ..and ways to **** oneself and I gave up climbing and jumped off the rope 6 feet straight down on my back/ankles It hurt like batshit crazy but i told you I managed through it then later when talking to our friends I let it slip I told her about my failed attempt I was really depressed after that It actually FAILED! Well, now more people knew about it and these rumors spread fast as you would know I was still fine with school just.. I  became more depressed My grades were fine I was nearly at the end of the year nearly there. nearly And then I realized that Mockingbirds are similar to humans they don't talk much at the time of crisis but they remember it, and pass it onwards They don't lie. Mockingbirds dont lie
0
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
Mockingbirds don't lie
*Story.. Stories I have a story to tell It's a tragic one as usual* A day goes by. Silence reigns and birds cuckoo While this happens.. Two people sit under a tree Using it as a rendezvous For usual meetings They met... Once... In ten days They enjoyed it I helped another person and he tried to help me I did a better job of helping him that's what I think.. Anyways, once they met they enjoyed it they would talk together and climb a tree Play with a dog, which was a golden retriever They are big! It was a lot of fun Often playing Videogames like.. Mario kart..? That was a day and it happened on an occasional basis when both of them could spare some time from their daily time consuming life ---------------------------------------------------------------- One day however A bright sunny day A sunday afternoon filled with birds flying about nearly the end of the school year It was all going by wonderfully We had met another time because you called me and told me to help you out and just to relieve the stress that the school year had put on us We climbed a tree with a rope on it it was pretty tall about 10 feet high I remember talking about self harm.. ..and ways to **** oneself and I gave up climbing and jumped off the rope 6 feet straight down on my back/ankles It hurt like batshit crazy but i told you I managed through it then later when talking to our friends I let it slip I told her about my failed attempt I was really depressed after that It actually FAILED! Well, now more people knew about it and these rumors spread fast as you would know I was still fine with school just.. I  became more depressed My grades were fine I was nearly at the end of the year nearly there. nearly And then I realized that Mockingbirds are similar to humans they don't talk much at the time of crisis but they remember it, and pass it onwards They don't lie. Mockingbirds dont lie
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84
Schwinny, Baby, You were supposed to be my Bicycle. So I don't ask for anthing special. No dark Harley divas To whisk me off into the sunset. But I thought we were at least On the same road together. So please. Don't go droaning on how Life got too complicated. I mean, You've got one flimsy gear. And don't go moaning how The road got too bumpy. I mean, You went blind bonzai batshit over burnt black tar pavement. You just Let go. Threw away your Chain of reasoning Faster than I could brace for impact. So am I bleeding? Yeah, I'm bleeding. And the worst part is, I still need you! No, No, no. Not like Pom Pom pammy Needs her purple-plated pogo stick Nor like Princess Paris And her prissy pink prom queen limo, No. I mean I need I need you like Alibaba needs his golden cherub camel, Like Ben Hur his crimson-fury chariot. Because work is 37. Blocks. Away. And it starts in 16 minutes. And the bus is really unreliable. So we ride again, Guts against the wind. But now I've got all ten fingers and toes Crossed, Two by two, And point in fact, Racing down Guadalupe with Forked Philanges Gets really hairy. But your suicidal tendancies simply scare me. Your thirst to incur first degree burns, Fractured femurs, And flayed skin whittles my patience To tire track thin! Think I'll Roll my dice with a Segway. She'd be a quaint, play it safe kind of girl. Type to show off To a Mom and Dad Reveling in rosemary jubilation. Aw, son. We knew you'd land a keeper. That's my boy. But in ten days tops, I'd begin to miss your fiery imbalanced breath. I'd yearn for your bipolar 180 turns that Make my heart skip that terrible, syncopated beat. So let's just say, I'll give it one more shot. But ***** just promise you'll stick around a little longer. It's storming outside and We both got a few blocks to go.
0
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 10:17 PM UTC
Bike Breakdown
Schwinny, Baby, You were supposed to be my Bicycle. So I don't ask for anthing special. No dark Harley divas To whisk me off into the sunset. But I thought we were at least On the same road together. So please. Don't go droaning on how Life got too complicated. I mean, You've got one flimsy gear. And don't go moaning how The road got too bumpy. I mean, You went blind bonzai batshit over burnt black tar pavement. You just Let go. Threw away your Chain of reasoning Faster than I could brace for impact. So am I bleeding? Yeah, I'm bleeding. And the worst part is, I still need you! No, No, no. Not like Pom Pom pammy Needs her purple-plated pogo stick Nor like Princess Paris And her prissy pink prom queen limo, No. I mean I need I need you like Alibaba needs his golden cherub camel, Like Ben Hur his crimson-fury chariot. Because work is 37. Blocks. Away. And it starts in 16 minutes. And the bus is really unreliable. So we ride again, Guts against the wind. But now I've got all ten fingers and toes Crossed, Two by two, And point in fact, Racing down Guadalupe with Forked Philanges Gets really hairy. But your suicidal tendancies simply scare me. Your thirst to incur first degree burns, Fractured femurs, And flayed skin whittles my patience To tire track thin! Think I'll Roll my dice with a Segway. She'd be a quaint, play it safe kind of girl. Type to show off To a Mom and Dad Reveling in rosemary jubilation. Aw, son. We knew you'd land a keeper. That's my boy. But in ten days tops, I'd begin to miss your fiery imbalanced breath. I'd yearn for your bipolar 180 turns that Make my heart skip that terrible, syncopated beat. So let's just say, I'll give it one more shot. But ***** just promise you'll stick around a little longer. It's storming outside and We both got a few blocks to go.
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71
Hitchhiker My passenger seat Her eyes tear up as She talks about Placebo happiness And the Digital pineapples She never wanted As a girl About how the world really Should have been a square Then nobody'd ever fall off And more people could care About how nothing ever makes sense Up here And that she doesn't believe in Calling a piece of dirt A home And how in my heart I feel that She's perfectly Batshit crazy And that she could be the one How everything seems okay Every time she breathes out And In And I'm stunned As she gives me a look so Delicate it shatters like Glass against industrial Cold tempered Steel And the moment she says "Thanks for the ride, But I can't stay" This fifty mile fairytale of ours just Ends.
0
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
Mermaid
Batshit crazy, Batshit soup. Am I just lazy, or caught in a loop? Batshit crazy, Owl **** soup. Razor blades, Razor blades, Razor blades, **** Love is not a competition. Love is not a game. You see me as a player, and it's a downright shame. Batshit crazy, Owl **** soup. I am totally lazy, and caught in a loop-die-loop. Glass houses and baseball games Angels wings and tar SEPTA lines and pine trees Can take you pretty far Love is not a competition Love is not a war and acting like a soldier is really quite a chore! Silly souls and wacky words Dragonflies and tar I want to make some art with you but I don't know how you are it's Just another slide down the razor blade of life into a bowl of sour owl **** Batshit crazy, Owl **** soup. Am I crazy, or am I caught in a loop? Razor blades Razor blades Razor blades ****
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
Sour Owl ****
eye cantaloupe batshit Midas writer's iambic within usurp ender's egret wherewithal nearly Mykonos orangutan elsewhere eye dye.
0
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
poem
I stood across a fiery red and ended up purple. Greased thighs, dripping down and rested on knee caps too brittle. “So this is how you fall apart.” I say, “this is how you fall apart.” When it isn’t as glorious as others make it seem and the only sound you make is an inner monologue, where you berate yourself. “This is you, you **** of a train wreck example.” And then you stand and you cower at the mere sight of a figure ahead. You tug down the remains of your shirt and you wipe your busted lip dry, like it will hide the cut and bite. You wince once sweat kisses your brow and you hiss like someone hoisted you against a brick wall. You never stand. You never stand and you are excused for cursing. All the ******** the dammits, the batshit *** **** flow out like breath – naturally, an incestuous inhale and exhale of “someone give me that thingamajiggy for the pain!” But it never comes. And you are never cured. And it never goes away, when a quicksand of that stinky pile of unwritten brain farts start farting, one by ******* one. Blessed are the stoic ones, for they glorify aching. ****** are the loud ones, for the stoic ones are deaf.
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Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
(There's no) Sweet Pain like Rugby
alarm dogmatical snakebird dictator **** rooster of electro maniacal damnation wake goober eyed ithyphallic mortal yahoo yawns glacier shuffle to Midas’ bowl brush minty hairy pasty headed ******** seafoam ***** on white vanity beaches shave deceitful murderous metal cartel scraping dead shrubs from yesterday’s winter breakfast egg flour chalk smack guzzling bean kerosene work batshit bureaucratic badgers bludgeon muktuk hamsters lubricating wheels of fortune lunch butcher’s dead friend between greasy toasted cement harlot’s heavenly tomato mating cabbage cousin work taradiddle of martyrs at jargon’s temple blather babble, bumble - copulation without *********** dinner unicorn steaks, butterfly sauté, and leprechaun fingers, a side of manslaughter dolphin sleep a felon’s holiday repeat
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
A day in the life of a married white collar worker
hyper-jinxed like an old talkie scrap the fat off the cow! swipe that smile off your face to watch the sunset fade away. batshit crazy candidly rogue an eventful leap from far fetched lore gory details please spare me a big fat ***** and a way to reap the pretties from the twits. but the lee-way from the stars beyond sometimes gets trapped into hairy armpits. then their neon pink hued blue eyed trolls take their slippers to the snow.
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Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 11:24 PM UTC
Pagent Girls
Come on over, and we'll craft a new key to the kingdom, all I want is to cut the seams, pulverize the patterns, rewrite the Hamlets and all the works of Hemingway, what are you doing now? nothing? great. Come on over, I have a handle of SoCo, I know it's your favorite, we'll shoot the **** and chitty-chat about how it's so easy to drink. Come on over, and brilliant minds will strum guitars, **** ivories, croon with weary pipes, all in plain sight. Come on over, this world wasn't made for us, so let's force it into submission with controversy and batshit revelry. Let's lay on the carpet, and swoon to the love that courses in our veins, let's help me to the tile when the evening's endeavors come back up, let's write a new Odyssey, let's sing a new American anthem, let's light the apartment on fire, let's talk about how badass my girlfriend is, what are you doing right now? nothing? great. Come on over, and I'll be your slave. Whip me with criticism and fright, I'll give comfort and brighten the corners, mix you a drink, play you a Monk tune, dance like I invented it, and make you nostalgic for the 70s like I lived each millisecond of the decade. What are you right now? Nothing? Let's scare the ****** the politicians, the folks keeping scores, the drunkards down the road, self immolation? Great. When you hit the bottom, come to me, your world-savvy Midnight Man.
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Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 8:01 PM UTC
Midnight Man
I am bleeding words onto the floor Spattered puddles And random pools In patterns that make no sense None At all Because I have no cuts No wounds that issue forth It is simply nonsense And nothing more Because I have gone..... Well, you know.
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
Batshit crazy
The muse inquires, knowing that a question such as this is cannon fodder, an off-the-shoulder-blouse tease, just a hint of cleavage, a whiff of parfume, something to make poet sneeze, ejecting an answering essay without a clue where to go, but, now the fifth gear engaged, compulsion full, immédiatement, en ce moment, laisser's aller! and he knows exactly what to say what if poet possessed a special character, to define the sadness that reflects that summer has had its memory card wiped, and even though today, will be a Saturday of jeans shorts, a halter top, sort of day, the chill of dreaded winter is not coming, already present and accounted for, enchanté, déjanté, has already encased his heart in ice so thick, that even if poet drank a Joni case of his fav summer quaff, un provence rose, his seasonal loss cannot be overcome, the summer man~king is dead all that in but a single character, a precise capture, a labor and  time saving device, but a character with no character for the labor would be love lost yet you swear by your succinct emojis, their immaculate efficient composition, and I would not trade one accidental, just-slipped-out I love you even for ten thousand disheartening heart symbols would you prefer |£%!<# instead of: *I love you so much it is driving me batshit crazy!* I'm stuck with my troop of twenty six and their multiple endless quilted rearrangements call me old and out of fashion, to your question, this poem is my ask and answered at 5:13am
0
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 5:30 AM UTC
how come we can't add letters to the alphabet?
The muse inquires, knowing that a question such as this is cannon fodder, an off-the-shoulder-blouse tease, just a hint of cleavage, a whiff of parfume, something to make poet sneeze, ejecting an answering essay without a clue where to go, but, now the fifth gear engaged, compulsion full, immédiatement, en ce moment, laisser's aller! and he knows exactly what to say what if poet possessed a special character, to define the sadness that reflects that summer has had its memory card wiped, and even though today, will be a Saturday of jeans shorts, a halter top, sort of day, the chill of dreaded winter is not coming, already present and accounted for, enchanté, déjanté, has already encased his heart in ice so thick, that even if poet drank a Joni case of his fav summer quaff, un provence rose, his seasonal loss cannot be overcome, the summer man~king is dead all that in but a single character, a precise capture, a labor and  time saving device, but a character with no character for the labor would be love lost yet you swear by your succinct emojis, their immaculate efficient composition, and I would not trade one accidental, just-slipped-out I love you even for ten thousand disheartening heart symbols would you prefer |£%!<# instead of: *I love you so much it is driving me batshit crazy!* I'm stuck with my troop of twenty six and their multiple endless quilted rearrangements call me old and out of fashion, to your question, this poem is my ask and answered at 5:13am
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45
I have this theory about irony, tyranny and irrational national emergencies you see, when the foul wind blowing south out of Washington DC fails the smell test but compares well with, say, ******** cat **** radioactive batshit contaminants but, hey, try any old way, you still can’t iron any wrinkles out of the fact that what lies in the murky bottom of the Potomac our leader drinks in also flow through the faucets to sink, then down the ******** of our so-called democracy and into the lagoon down on the links of Mara-a-Lago.
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Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 10:00 AM UTC
Radioactive batshit
The rotten fruit shall be shaken --- W. H. Auden Do they somehow envision sainthood in the homeless or extol the virtue of the millions toiling for minimum wage; see themselves as the feudal overlords of trickle-down, their enormous profits banquet omelets for the common good? You know the politics whereof I speak, the Me, Myself and I of anachronistic yesterdays, the concave years of soup-kitchens supporting high-rise condos and batshit crazy presidential candidates admiring selfies.   I wonder if it's all because they can't reach ****** impotence and pharmaceuticals which fuel our economy? A nation moans from the exhaustion of despair with forgotten cityscapes of odorous blacks and blues.
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Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
As the Days Decay
I've always said that I don't need perfection I need affection Someone needs to invalidate my insecurities They sting me and I hide them deep beneath skin So deep that no one can seek them or sense them or touch them I often ask myself why I don't have an official companion A person who can love me and give me affection and make me happy It sounds stupid because a lover doesn't make one happy But I feel like I've crossed out every other thing on the list Introspection? They tell me I need to understand what and why and how However the mere fact that I have thousands of words depicting my every emotion Should mitigate this false sense of intelligence that a therapist has I don't need someone to bring me flowers Or chocolates or stuffed animals I don't need to be given the world because I can get that on my own But I do need someone to hug me and kiss me the way you do...when we're alone And then I need that same person to be able to effectively communicate with me I need them to understand the notion and the implications of a relationship And I need them to be fully committed to making me a better person And me making them a better person Because once all of that happens, all I'll need is for them to love me Love me The real me The person who is blunt and blatantly obvious The person who can capture a room with intelligence The person who hates the evils in the world The person who doesn't believe in god The person who cares about other people but has trouble showing it The person who works for everything The person who has suffered enough The person who wants to be loved by you And in some sense It's been established that you can't love me Simply because you don't And that's fine even though it pains me deeply But if it can't be you And you not caring for me is true Someone needs to sweep me away and love me for me Because I believe in human nature and I also believe in Darwinism But when it comes to me Human nature and Darwinism are contradictory Because human nature would be the act of two people loving each other for the sake of loving each other and wanting to be together But Darwinism says that my genes are too weak to compete in the gene pool Therefore it is difficult for one to seek my affection Because it subliminally implies that we're seeking "a mate" And I wouldn't be a good mate A) because I have a chronic illness B) I'm batshit crazy So I don't even know what to do at this point Maybe I was designed as a solo Rather than a duet That happens It's a possibility A horrible one But the most hurtful thing right now Is the idea that you may not love me And you never will
0
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Iris
I've always said that I don't need perfection I need affection Someone needs to invalidate my insecurities They sting me and I hide them deep beneath skin So deep that no one can seek them or sense them or touch them I often ask myself why I don't have an official companion A person who can love me and give me affection and make me happy It sounds stupid because a lover doesn't make one happy But I feel like I've crossed out every other thing on the list Introspection? They tell me I need to understand what and why and how However the mere fact that I have thousands of words depicting my every emotion Should mitigate this false sense of intelligence that a therapist has I don't need someone to bring me flowers Or chocolates or stuffed animals I don't need to be given the world because I can get that on my own But I do need someone to hug me and kiss me the way you do...when we're alone And then I need that same person to be able to effectively communicate with me I need them to understand the notion and the implications of a relationship And I need them to be fully committed to making me a better person And me making them a better person Because once all of that happens, all I'll need is for them to love me Love me The real me The person who is blunt and blatantly obvious The person who can capture a room with intelligence The person who hates the evils in the world The person who doesn't believe in god The person who cares about other people but has trouble showing it The person who works for everything The person who has suffered enough The person who wants to be loved by you And in some sense It's been established that you can't love me Simply because you don't And that's fine even though it pains me deeply But if it can't be you And you not caring for me is true Someone needs to sweep me away and love me for me Because I believe in human nature and I also believe in Darwinism But when it comes to me Human nature and Darwinism are contradictory Because human nature would be the act of two people loving each other for the sake of loving each other and wanting to be together But Darwinism says that my genes are too weak to compete in the gene pool Therefore it is difficult for one to seek my affection Because it subliminally implies that we're seeking "a mate" And I wouldn't be a good mate A) because I have a chronic illness B) I'm batshit crazy So I don't even know what to do at this point Maybe I was designed as a solo Rather than a duet That happens It's a possibility A horrible one But the most hurtful thing right now Is the idea that you may not love me And you never will
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58
At 14 I was sent to the hospital twice because I was hallucinating which is a fancy way of saying hey, you’re batshit crazy so we’re going to pump you full of medication Turns out all of the walls I had been seeing crashing down and the fires that were never there were always just a side effect of my depression medication because I was on too high of a dose for my weight And I told my ex-boyfriend this when I was 16 and now, 8 months later he is telling everyone I am schizophrenic like baby there’s a lot of things I am but that’s not one of them Like there’s a lot of things you are but a good person was never something I would use to describe you you're more of a waste of space and I really wish you had never left Chicago I wish I never even met you I wish I hadn’t been so desperate for the way you moved your thin body like a train down the rails I wish I had never agreed to play with your hair in class or sat in your lap with your arms around me tight or caught sight of you in my eyes like a glare through a window there was nothing else
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Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
Zoloft (Schizophrenia)
Anger is boiling, like a *** of water on the stove, and I can feel my veins get warm as you draw near. The web of lies you wove, trapped me in a world of pain and hatred, and caused me to lose that which I had always held dear. I like to forgive, and I always try to forget, but you would be the first that I can never forgive. If I could cut you out of this world, like euthanizing a rabit dog at the vet, I would do it in a heartbeat, because you do not deserve to live. Life is already ****** up without having someone to tear your confidence away, stripping you of any personality you spent your days creating. I can't believe I fell for your innocent, ******** ******* facade, and all the things you once did say. I let you in my life as a victim, and then I became the victim of us dating. Whoever falls into your web next, I hope she has the brains to get out quick. I hope whoever else has the unfortune of meeting you realizes you're not really "sick", that these are words that hide the true meaning, that you are batshit ******* crazy and willing to beat the **** out of any person that looks at you wrong.  Man, I put up with that for too long. I may have spent the last year building back everything that you took from me; but it may never be enough. I still go through every day with symptoms of PTSD; flinching when someone moves too fast, night terrors in the middle of the night, hyperventilating when I think I see you walk past, and anger that has stopped me from ever being "alright". Maybe only time will really heal these wounds and turn off this oven of hatred. Or maybe I will live with this anger for the rest of my life, wishing I had done something to make this pain faded...
0
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
boiling anger.
Anger is boiling, like a *** of water on the stove, and I can feel my veins get warm as you draw near. The web of lies you wove, trapped me in a world of pain and hatred, and caused me to lose that which I had always held dear. I like to forgive, and I always try to forget, but you would be the first that I can never forgive. If I could cut you out of this world, like euthanizing a rabit dog at the vet, I would do it in a heartbeat, because you do not deserve to live. Life is already ****** up without having someone to tear your confidence away, stripping you of any personality you spent your days creating. I can't believe I fell for your innocent, ******** ******* facade, and all the things you once did say. I let you in my life as a victim, and then I became the victim of us dating. Whoever falls into your web next, I hope she has the brains to get out quick. I hope whoever else has the unfortune of meeting you realizes you're not really "sick", that these are words that hide the true meaning, that you are batshit ******* crazy and willing to beat the **** out of any person that looks at you wrong.  Man, I put up with that for too long. I may have spent the last year building back everything that you took from me; but it may never be enough. I still go through every day with symptoms of PTSD; flinching when someone moves too fast, night terrors in the middle of the night, hyperventilating when I think I see you walk past, and anger that has stopped me from ever being "alright". Maybe only time will really heal these wounds and turn off this oven of hatred. Or maybe I will live with this anger for the rest of my life, wishing I had done something to make this pain faded...
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6
I met a woman at the laundromat, six-foot tall in her flats. She bore the scent of a bachelor's degree, class C cigarettes and warm whiskey-- oh no, here I go, down to the river to cleanse my soul. "My name is Tangerine," she splintered, 75 cents and a steady hand remembered. I've got an incessant woman miles away, but your proximity begs me to stay. oh no, here I go, down to the river to cleanse my soul. Tangerine had two crooked teeth, a penchant for Plato seeped. She was a batshit woman, a bona fide tombstone, an endless corridor, and a paper bag dream. oh no, here I go, down to the river to cleanse my soul.
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Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 11:55 PM UTC
down to the river
Maybe if you leave, we can work it out. I need a permanent blanket of nimbus clouds more oppressive than a Roman Catholic Court. But, moving to London might convict me back to the cityscape of wasted Fridays and Saturdays. Because without it, the Betrand Russell in me might just start to wake up. And then I’d remember - there has to be more to life than the 9 to 5 daze. Washington DC stopped being fun after week two, and now I see it for what it is — a crush of desperate tourists blowing cigarette smoke in your face while you sweat last night’s drinks and Jumbo slice crash. Anywhere that sells Nutella crepes is pretty sweet, and I love all the kite flyers and buskers festivals. I long ago realized that while Christiania has hundreds of market stalls, they’re all selling the same material things on a Groundhog Day loop: baked goods, stolen bikes, old furniture, cheap phones, and bags of open air hash. Climbing up Carcassonne, a fortified medieval French town, probably is the best thing ever, but somehow, the two-hour lines to get into Berghain seem more worth it — all that dirt, grunge, and spinning feels as close to Dante’s Inferno; as close to feeling alive as it gets. But now my Sunday afternoons are spent curled on top of my clean bedsheets, twitching about like a decapitated blue whale - batshit exhausted and depressed but somehow grinning like The Joker, wondering if sleep ever sets.
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Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 4:02 AM UTC
Nodus Tollens
I was borderline batshit, I hadn't slept for two nights, and every time I closed my eyes, my desperate mind sent itself into R.E.M. The hallucinations were only fun up to a point, as soon as I saw monkeys in gas masks, I fixed another *** drank three or four cups, I promised I'd wait up, and Ms. Gloria had promised to come by last night. My belly began to roar, I ate a saltine, one **** packet left, and then no groceries. I opened the freezer, a couple trays of ice, half a fifth of ***** "Ah, hell," and ****** off the remainder in three or four hits. I turned on the tv, I forgot their was a war going on. It didn't take long for my mind to bite. I took a front row seat for the viewing of my ego's defeat. I was holding up well, using the gunshots as a backing symphony to some poetry I was clumsily penning. It was something about texting girls and semi-trucks, but I lost the ******* notepad I was writing it on, I stood up to go take a **** and my head fell to the soles, back met carpet quickly, monkeys and gas masks, I heard my phone ring, I rolled on my side, in an attempt to crawl to it, then woke up 6-hours later, to someone pounding the **** out of my door.
0
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 9:30 AM UTC
Mr. Underground Goes Batshit, Does the Collapse (Pt. II)
Fake plastic trees, dreams New York, 19 & on her knees In some ratty batshit crazy motel on the east end of town But pity, do not judge her. For she is simply desperate broke & naïve . She knows not the beauty beyond the life on these sin-ridden New York City streets
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
Little Lady's a *****
It makes me think, the Egyptians were batshit. Not that they were idiots. There's always bits of hay amongst the piles of needles. Only just Thinking. Why did these naked cats arrive in Egypt? They look near human ... in the face, that is. Well, the alley cats. The battle worn society of cats. Spartans. The oppression they hail down upon their unreachable indoor targets. It's all just out of this ... realm.
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
The ***** of the Litter
Her hands shake. She's terrified of this person she's become. It was never meant to be this way. One time, she swore. One more, she promised again. Once a month once a week once a day whenever she got a chance. She never thought she'd be this way. An addict. When did it happen? Why did it happen? How? It started way back when, when life was kicking her *** She was drowning, couldn't keep her head above water. She struggled. Kicking and screaming, she powered on. Tried so **** hard. She made promises to herself her friends her Savior. She promised she'd be ok. She swore she wouldn't fall victim like so many before her. But she's never been good at keeping her promises. (Never been good at much, actually.) One time turned to many many many more. That night an addiction started. And she hates herself for it. Hates her friends for never opening their ******* eyes. Hates one in particular for never asking the questions she should. Hates another that she loves for leaving. Because that's what it was. Excuses for unreplied texts missed calls. Two months. She left. That's what happened. (Deny it all you want, but you know for a fact you stopped caring when I went batshit. You know.) Hates her parents for pushing so **** hard. (Why? Maybe if I had actually felt like the words you say were true I wouldn't be here.) But mostly she hates herself for succumbing to an idea a notion that never should have been entertained. But she did. Now she's failing at recovery. Failing being herself. Failing life in general. Failing living. Failing falling. Sinking into old habits. Old addictions. Her hands shake, holding the weapon in this war of self destruction. It touches her skin, and she shivers. **** She wishes she could stop, that she could be ok. But she can't. So she steadies her hands. Pull. **** Blood drips, and her mind is gone. Such is the life of an addict.
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
Addict
Her hands shake. She's terrified of this person she's become. It was never meant to be this way. One time, she swore. One more, she promised again. Once a month once a week once a day whenever she got a chance. She never thought she'd be this way. An addict. When did it happen? Why did it happen? How? It started way back when, when life was kicking her *** She was drowning, couldn't keep her head above water. She struggled. Kicking and screaming, she powered on. Tried so **** hard. She made promises to herself her friends her Savior. She promised she'd be ok. She swore she wouldn't fall victim like so many before her. But she's never been good at keeping her promises. (Never been good at much, actually.) One time turned to many many many more. That night an addiction started. And she hates herself for it. Hates her friends for never opening their ******* eyes. Hates one in particular for never asking the questions she should. Hates another that she loves for leaving. Because that's what it was. Excuses for unreplied texts missed calls. Two months. She left. That's what happened. (Deny it all you want, but you know for a fact you stopped caring when I went batshit. You know.) Hates her parents for pushing so **** hard. (Why? Maybe if I had actually felt like the words you say were true I wouldn't be here.) But mostly she hates herself for succumbing to an idea a notion that never should have been entertained. But she did. Now she's failing at recovery. Failing being herself. Failing life in general. Failing living. Failing falling. Sinking into old habits. Old addictions. Her hands shake, holding the weapon in this war of self destruction. It touches her skin, and she shivers. **** She wishes she could stop, that she could be ok. But she can't. So she steadies her hands. Pull. **** Blood drips, and her mind is gone. Such is the life of an addict.
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107
i always knew you didn't trust me. i knew you had a secret agenda, you secret agent you. i love[d] you more than anyone. anyone. i trusted you the most. ever. when january rolled around, he was obsolete. it's you, it's you, it's always been you. you never let me explain; you don't want to hear. but it's got to go somewhere, so. here it goes. i walked into a life i wasn't welcome in. i didn't want you to fight for me. i didn't belong, all my prescence did was cause chaos. **i was always ******* something up for you.** you were his, not mine, and it tore me up inside. **but i didn't want to do a **** thing that could...** take you from him. from your happiness. take you from being content without being lonely. to never make you smile, laugh, everything, was... more punishment i ever thought i could take. even worse? being the cause of your unhappiness. i was always ******* something up for you. you see, without me? without you fighting for me? there wouldn't have been the fighting, that shower scene. i never wanted you to fight for me. you know i did what i did because i was batshit in love with you. you know i did it because i didn't care about him, i cared about you. unfortunately, that came at a price. the biggest price i've had to pay, really. i did it to keep you happy. i didn't want to do or say anything that would... [make you see your boy in a different light] **** something else up for you. i risked everything for you. i gave up everything, i gave up you, for you. one day, i'll beg. i'll beg every god i know, especially the ones i don't believe in. i'll wish on every dandelion, every star, to not have done what i did, to have a second chance. i've never begged for anyone, i've never wished for anyone. not even him. so you see? it was never him. it was always you. it's you, it's you. it's always been you. honesty may be the best policy, but you know i'm always looking for a better way. you know i'm always looking out for you. i tried, anyway. there wasn't anything i could do that he hadn't already done. i wish i could say this was over, and i was done, but i can't give you up like i gave him up. my epitaph will always read, "she was my only."
0
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 5:58 PM UTC
these are the things i could never, ever say.
i always knew you didn't trust me. i knew you had a secret agenda, you secret agent you. i love[d] you more than anyone. anyone. i trusted you the most. ever. when january rolled around, he was obsolete. it's you, it's you, it's always been you. you never let me explain; you don't want to hear. but it's got to go somewhere, so. here it goes. i walked into a life i wasn't welcome in. i didn't want you to fight for me. i didn't belong, all my prescence did was cause chaos. **i was always ******* something up for you.** you were his, not mine, and it tore me up inside. **but i didn't want to do a **** thing that could...** take you from him. from your happiness. take you from being content without being lonely. to never make you smile, laugh, everything, was... more punishment i ever thought i could take. even worse? being the cause of your unhappiness. i was always ******* something up for you. you see, without me? without you fighting for me? there wouldn't have been the fighting, that shower scene. i never wanted you to fight for me. you know i did what i did because i was batshit in love with you. you know i did it because i didn't care about him, i cared about you. unfortunately, that came at a price. the biggest price i've had to pay, really. i did it to keep you happy. i didn't want to do or say anything that would... [make you see your boy in a different light] **** something else up for you. i risked everything for you. i gave up everything, i gave up you, for you. one day, i'll beg. i'll beg every god i know, especially the ones i don't believe in. i'll wish on every dandelion, every star, to not have done what i did, to have a second chance. i've never begged for anyone, i've never wished for anyone. not even him. so you see? it was never him. it was always you. it's you, it's you. it's always been you. honesty may be the best policy, but you know i'm always looking for a better way. you know i'm always looking out for you. i tried, anyway. there wasn't anything i could do that he hadn't already done. i wish i could say this was over, and i was done, but i can't give you up like i gave him up. my epitaph will always read, "she was my only."
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61
Fire and wind of close bullets tornados, floods, rain I. C. E. with eyes sharp as barbed wire dead souls walking those pale corridors with an odor the color of bone and skin off the backs of the poor in their pockets like rawhide, they are rolling, rolling, rolling ***** of dung along carrying briefcases full of batshit and other secret pestilence yet to come.
0
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 9:19 PM UTC
End times
It was a standoff. The fox had never faced a snake. The snake didn't care what the fox saw, it was there for one reason. The snake had a bone to pick, and his own idea of what a fox is. Sly huh?, said the snake. The fox just sat, amazed that the snake spoke his language, or something close to his language. The fox's tongue coiled. So, they call you sly huh?, the snake hissed. You go into the hen house and make a commotion, **** all the chickens and just eat one? Sly? Well, my dear fox, i slither in, eat a couple of eggs and slither out un-noticed. I expect my eggs to be there every time. Then you come and **** the ones who feed me? The fox just sat, hypnotized. He thought to himself, "i can't slither". Well mr fox, you can't slither, said the snake. I was made for S and you were made for F. And yes, they used to use an F as an S. The humans, that is. Anyhow dear sly fox, i came to make a deal...you see, i am owner of all the good S words, and i would also like to do away with the X. See I have scales, but i'm smooth, i look slimy, but i'm just that slick. A fox has fur for warmth...i am cold blooded. So cold. So, here's what i'm gonna do...i went out of my way to get you and me what we need. I see that those flies are bugging you. I will trade you an F from the flies for the S in sly, and leave the flies lay. Lies don't fly, but flies do, and that's not right. So, if you trade me, you will be so fly, and you will also be able to fly. That would be so beautiful to see you do what you're supposed to. And if you think chickens taste good, you should try a chicken hawk. The fox grinned, the snake smiled. Also, i will trade CK for that nasty X. See, my dear foxy, X has to be done away with. X means no, and i don't believe in no. It's like flies. The fox thought he was dreaming. He could be the fly flying fox! Excited, the fox nodded in agreement. The snake grabbed the S and put it in front of snake, making him a ssnake. Then, the snake swallowed the X. There you go my dear fox, we got rid of lies and the X. Plus we helped each other...no lies. See you when i see you ssucker, but i don't look back, said the ssnake. "ok flies, we had a deal and i will return for my other S, and those Z's". The flies buzzed. What have i done? Now i am a fock! FOCK! Those aren't lies, they're flying. He ripped me off. *** My legs are gone! The flies buzzed, they knew what was up. The fock's time was almost up... The flies couldn't wait, so they began eating... "Buzz while you still can fools, i am going to make a deal to the bees for those Z's. A flock of flying foxes flew over, laughing fiendishly. " thanks for letting us keep our X mr ssnake" "anything for the bats, my friend" "Batshit crazy my *** As the snake slithered away, he said "that is one Lying Fock" Hiss. "The fool didn't realize I am a foxsnake" Hiss. "Sly my *** *** The fun never ends...
0
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 12:10 PM UTC
The Snake and the Fox
It was a standoff. The fox had never faced a snake. The snake didn't care what the fox saw, it was there for one reason. The snake had a bone to pick, and his own idea of what a fox is. Sly huh?, said the snake. The fox just sat, amazed that the snake spoke his language, or something close to his language. The fox's tongue coiled. So, they call you sly huh?, the snake hissed. You go into the hen house and make a commotion, **** all the chickens and just eat one? Sly? Well, my dear fox, i slither in, eat a couple of eggs and slither out un-noticed. I expect my eggs to be there every time. Then you come and **** the ones who feed me? The fox just sat, hypnotized. He thought to himself, "i can't slither". Well mr fox, you can't slither, said the snake. I was made for S and you were made for F. And yes, they used to use an F as an S. The humans, that is. Anyhow dear sly fox, i came to make a deal...you see, i am owner of all the good S words, and i would also like to do away with the X. See I have scales, but i'm smooth, i look slimy, but i'm just that slick. A fox has fur for warmth...i am cold blooded. So cold. So, here's what i'm gonna do...i went out of my way to get you and me what we need. I see that those flies are bugging you. I will trade you an F from the flies for the S in sly, and leave the flies lay. Lies don't fly, but flies do, and that's not right. So, if you trade me, you will be so fly, and you will also be able to fly. That would be so beautiful to see you do what you're supposed to. And if you think chickens taste good, you should try a chicken hawk. The fox grinned, the snake smiled. Also, i will trade CK for that nasty X. See, my dear foxy, X has to be done away with. X means no, and i don't believe in no. It's like flies. The fox thought he was dreaming. He could be the fly flying fox! Excited, the fox nodded in agreement. The snake grabbed the S and put it in front of snake, making him a ssnake. Then, the snake swallowed the X. There you go my dear fox, we got rid of lies and the X. Plus we helped each other...no lies. See you when i see you ssucker, but i don't look back, said the ssnake. "ok flies, we had a deal and i will return for my other S, and those Z's". The flies buzzed. What have i done? Now i am a fock! FOCK! Those aren't lies, they're flying. He ripped me off. *** My legs are gone! The flies buzzed, they knew what was up. The fock's time was almost up... The flies couldn't wait, so they began eating... "Buzz while you still can fools, i am going to make a deal to the bees for those Z's. A flock of flying foxes flew over, laughing fiendishly. " thanks for letting us keep our X mr ssnake" "anything for the bats, my friend" "Batshit crazy my *** As the snake slithered away, he said "that is one Lying Fock" Hiss. "The fool didn't realize I am a foxsnake" Hiss. "Sly my *** *** The fun never ends...
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