"bummed" poems
To all the ************* who don't
Know what is and isn't important
For their own **** good.
A ***** rigid, spiked, smelly
One finger salute for each
And every one of you.
This ************ throws his kids
Out into the streets in November.
Big man of the house who trys so
Desperately to be intimidating,
With a ****** back and a
Horrible stench of alcohol on his breath.
This ************ who thinks she's special.
The stuck up ***** that too closely
Resembles a plump ****** carrot.
Who thinks the perfect guy is a hairless
Fruity smelling mommy's boy *****
With perfect flippy hair and a big ****
This ************ the few, the proud,
The fruity smelling mommy's boy *****
Who wouldn't know a pair of pliers
If they were ripping off his sparkly earrings.
Never having an ounce of dirt on his hands,
But at least she... I mean he has nice teeth.
This ************ that can't tell one honest
Fact about his "hard and lonely" home life.
The one who nods and laughs but just wants to ****
Who beats off to his computer after taking a hit
That he bummed off his rich friends.
Who is confused as to why some people (me) hate him.
This ************ who screws with the emotions
Of one of the best guys ever to glide through her life.
Who throws him on a roller coaster with smiles
And flirtatious giggling while she lets him kiss her.
Then throws him to the side and takes the next in line.
I wish only the very best for you, you ****** *****
Those ************* who abuse, torment
Or play with someone who just wishes the best.
The ones who hurt the vulnerable
To feel better for themselves.
No one deserves the **** you give,
Except each and every one of you.
Honorable mention to those *******
That complain about all men being the same
When in reality they're just searching for
The same type of meat headed ******
Every time they have such a painful terrible
Breakup. Just shut the **** up. For real.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So You Wouldn't Know Who I Am,
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So This Hell Wouldnt Have Began,
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So Tears Will Never Come,
I Wish I Could Erase Memories,
So You And I Are Never Be Bummed,
I Wish I Could Erase The Past,
So I Could Stop All The Rumors,
I Wish I Could Erase The Past,
So A Mistake Didnt Come Out Of Humor,
I Wish I Could Erase You,
Because Then I'd Never Have Been Sad,
I Wish I Could Erase You,
So I Did Never Hurt My Dad,
I Wish I Could Erase You,
And Many Others Who Have Made Me Mad,
I Wish I Could Erase Them All,
Every Heartless Person Who Made Me Crumble,
I Wish I Could Erase Them All,
Every Person Who Made Me Struggle,
I Wish I Could Erase All The Nightmares,
The Nightmares That Were Real,
I Wish I Could Erase The Nightmares,
The Thoughts So Surreal,
I Wish I Could Erase The Scars,
The Scars On Skin,
I Wish I Could Erase The Scars,
The Ones Gained From Way Back When,
I Wish I Could Erase Every Tear,
Every Coat Of Eyeliner That's Been Smeared,
I Wish I Could Erase Every Stammered Word,
Every Scar From Evil Mans Sword,
Every Breath Ive Taken To Block Back Anger,
And Erase Every Anchor,
That Holds Me To Earth
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:28 PM UTC
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier
I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton
You're right. It's totally her ***
Ugly Faces - Watsky
Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything
Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion
Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX
Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement
I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted
Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
*To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords*
I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
*You Don't Have To Be A ********** - Flight Of The Concords*
You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons
No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table
Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok
I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.
That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa
**** you spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go
Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto
No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona
I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo
That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers
Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.
I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
10 sacrificial exhales
9 regret scented fingertips
8 matriarchal castigations
7 breathes corrupted
6 bummed ember tips
5 second hand coughs
4 derisive stares
3 relapses
2 lungs
1 heart
Parasitic paradise with death in hand
A gift to me,
self receiving
Toxicity imbalanced
This is worse than bleeding
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 8:49 AM UTC
My room’s a disaster, and I am positive it is a reflection of the current state of my life.
But, I mean, what do I know?
My life is nothing short of scawompus.
And by golly, let the wild rumpus begin, I shout- to the heavens- instead of taking the time to clean a few things up. Instead I linger, just oh, so fed up.
What do I know?
I know for certain I am not the only one who would rather relinquish their life story to a stranger at coffee house than to their best pal on occasion. Truthfully, that’s probably a factor in humanity’s perpetually loneliness, makes me question the reality of godliness,
But that’s another talk for another day.
I know, oh boy, I know we’re all just lonely ******
and darlin’ ain’t nobody's life more glamorous than yours,
just step out of your head for a moment.
Because it truly is gorgeous out here, there is every reason to fear, but also every reason to simply say **** it, and lie back and enjoy the view.
But what do I know?
I know it seems askew, but the beauty lies in the few who learn to appreciate the new.
Oh, what do I know?
Oh yes, I know I am **** crazy, and **** weird. I know this because I am reminded daily by my family, friends, and coworkers, but I am also **** happy for how depressed I am.
But then again, what do I know?
Let’s be honest,
I wear my whole life on my sleeve and still, nobody ******* knows me.
And I think I’m badass. Skanking at ska shows, waking with "oh no"s, what am I doing here?
In a strangers house after a night of fun and honest to god I am still bummed.
For whatever reason, whatever I may conjure up, and I am left here feeling like i’m still floating up,
Up, up I am drifting
I am a drifter
And I still don’t know what it feels like to feel
I am a ****** to life in so many senses
My senses are unfulfilled,
But I am scared senseless of what my future holds.
And what THE HELL do I know?
I am undeniably bewildered,
Nevertheless, aren’t we all?
In that, who really KNOWS anything these days…
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
21 years or older but I asked to use the bathroom first.
Then I slip in when the bouncer isn't looking.
Naked bodies hanging on poles.
Men, smoke, 90's rap music.
On the stage, they bend backwards like dogs.
Dogs staring back, mirroring the position
and her self - esteem.
A woman approaches two men at the table in front of me.
Her fishnet wrap shows she's naked.
******* grinding, tossing hair.
Some slimy guys buy us drinks from a table a distance away.
Dorena gulps next to me.
I leave mine alone.
Absorbed into this vision because I have to immerse
myself in this because I must write.
I need to tell people that her hand slapped her ******
like it did something wrong.
She made her hand do that because that man
was giving her dollars as I watched them slide off her back,
her legs; the sides of them.
She gave his friend a dance and a magic trick.
Setting fire to matchsticks she placed on her ******* and her ****
He blew the flame away.
The dollars blew to the ground
and after her performance she went on her knees,
and picked up the remains.
Her dress, the money, her composure.
Afterward, she lit up a Capri, the type of cigarette
I craved all night.
I bummed one off her and she fled out of sight.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 11:32 PM UTC
a harp has been strummed
a banjo picked
a heart has been numbed
a ****** flicked
a page has been thumbed
a sharp ice pick
a mouth has been gummed
a desiduous tick
a cigarette has been bummed
a virginal stick
a town has been slummed
a slippery ****
a ***** has been ******
a little *****
a lonely man jumped
a fall and a click
a crowd has been pumped
a comedy shtick
a mind has been stumped
a clever trick
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 2:50 PM UTC
I met a poor girl from the slums of manila
She was sweeter than a cone of ice cream her skin prettier than chocolate her kiss pure vanilla
Of her now I dream alone
She could make my heart sing a love verse
Prettier than the new miss universe
She has a young daughter
Some one else all ready got her
Why did he run away?
She lives ten thousand miles away
If only I had met her yesterday
Now I'm bummed I want that poor girl from the slums
She never ask for anything or can afford to pay no bills
Never heard of Beverly hills
Scrubs toilets for food in tattered old dress
Still I'd love to undress and caress
The poor girl from the slums...
D. Clare
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
replacing white lines with gray ash and sleeping in beds for sleeping in bathrooms and you wonder if you had any self respect in the first place because this afternoon you tried to think of your happiest memories in the past year and it wasn't when you were in someone's arms or thinking of your successes in the mirror while you flexed your kickass young *** it was when you were smoking bummed menthols and your friend commandeered a miniature tractor in the tenderloin and conducted two drug deals in less than 30 minutes and you watched her disdainfully with her girlfriend and wondered where on ******* earth you could get a three dollar old fashioned and let a forty year old flirt with you for coke and you wouldn't even have to do anything for it wouldn't life be nice like that
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
My Baby just called.
Bummed that the
Plasma Bank turned her away.
Veins too damaged for a Give.
Her blood no longer worth $40.
♢
The Silence
The Long
The Empty
The Long
Moments that tell me she
doesn't have bus fair, because
she lost her job last week.
I paid Her rent. A safe room in
a good house that helps me
sleep at Night knowing she is
warm in this deep of Winter.
♢
Imbued with emotions,
I quiet...
My Center
My Heart
My Mama Pain
She tells me she was
near Home last night.
Wanted to see the Kitties.
Lay in her Bed.
That's all Mom, that's all...
♢
The locks have been changed.
She does not have a key.
Finally found a ride home
in the middle of the night as
I drank six hours of sleep.
♢
Heart of My *****
My Spirit.
Taken from Us
Taken from Me.
Taken from Herself.
♢
My Hurt
My Anger
My Disbelief
That something
stronger than Love
dictates her Desires.
She is only 19.
Copyright © 2015. Fluer de Luna.
All Rights Reserved.
~Christi Michaels~MoonFlower
~Fluer de Luna~
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:25 AM UTC
You and Ingrid
bummed a ride
on the back
of the coal truck
the spring holiday underway
Ok
said the coal truck driver
but keep
your heads down
don't want to get
pulled over
by the rozzers
and so you both
climbed in the back
of the truck
settling down
between sacks of coal
covered over
by tarpaulin
with just a slit
for light and air
and you and she
just sitting there
she clothed
in an old green dress
and cardigan of grey
brown scuffed shoes
and grey socks
you in jeans
and blue shirt
open necked
and sleeveless
patterned jumper
never been
in the back
of a coal truck before
Ingrid said
mustn't get too *****
in case Dad finds out
and leathers me one
you watched
as she sat there
in the semi-dark
gazing out
through the slit
at the thin
aspect of sky
hands on her knees
biting her lip
been once before
with Jimmy
but then it rained
and we got drenched
you said
what did your parents say?
Ingrid asked
nothing much
you replied
Mum moaned a bit
but the old man said nothing
just stared
as he blew smoke
from his cigarette
through his nose
God my dad'd go mad
if I had done that
she said
pulling her knees
together hands
holding on the top
I'd not be able
to sit for a week
he'd beat me such
she added
moving
with the movement
of the truck
you said nothing
knowing her old man
seeing him often
walking through the Square
swaying with the *****
or seeing her mother
bruised and battered
crossing to the shops
enduring neighbours' whispers
for a while she was silent
looking through the slit
as the sky drifted by
as the truck moved
you swayed
side to side
her shoulder
against yours
her arm touching yours
the smell of wet washing
and of yesterday's dinner
captured on her clothes
seeping in your nose
now and then
she spoke
of this and that
of kids at school
of names called
of hair pulled
and how she liked it
when she saw you
enter school
and your kind words
and helpful ways
and when the driver
pulled off the tarpaulin
to get out sacks of coal
daylight blew out
your eyes
and made you smile
and cheered your hearts
you shared the sandwiches
you'd brought
and bottle of lemonade
factory made
sitting on the truck floor
she nibbling a sandwich
and drinking shyly
from the lemonade bottle
after you'd wiped
the top with the palm
of your hand
her eyes on you
her lips open for words
her knees pressing together
to keep the balance
as the truck
moved on and away
just you and she
on a bright spring day.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
The touch of the woman is
the only thing that brings
you down from the cliff.
Hopped up on junk
or bummed out on bars,
or in them,
but, boy oh boy,
here she come round the corner.
And soon you're
seeing fields of
flowers --all swanky in
the wind-- see those hips
shake and dance?
see those lips twist and curl?
There she is.
And your mouth is dry and wide.
And your hands are
sweaty and shaking
And your eyes are static and cold.
And you're seeing gold
for the first time in weeks.
God, isn't she a sight for sore eyes
and a feel for your blistered hands.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
I wade into tidal waves,
my hands full of dandelions
humbled by the sun
choked up over comets
I’ve given up on sunsets
you are a supernova clad only in my bed sheets
I make a wish every time your chest falls
****** lungs full of anxiety
My mouth tastes like an ashtray
filled with the buts of things i forgot to say
washed down by things i wish i hadn't
Still tripping over shoe laces,
I search for poetry in *** holes.
Forgiveness in pillowcases
my eyes have trouble resting these days
So, why aren't we dancing?
Following the rhythm of our mismatched heartbeats
I clumsily waltz through misleading conversations
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 5:01 AM UTC
Last Friday I did a very good job
of drinking away
my anxiety.
The sad part was
the only person
there to see it
was my mom.
It took me awhile,
but five beers
and two
hard ciders later
I was free.
I’m almost 19
and I’ve already
started solving
my problems
with vices.
I had my *** phase.
It treated me no better
than any cigarette I bummed.
In the end
it was all just smoke.
Alcohol made me into something
I believed to be better.
I smile because I mean it.
I don’t shy away
From people.
But I’ve come to realize
that I’m worth more
than two shots of *****
and bottle of Mike’s Hard
It’s so easy to forget
what’s circling
in my brain.
I forgot about
school starting
in 2 weeks.
I forgot about my friends
and why
I’ve been feeling
that there’s a lack there of.
It is no ones fault
but my own.
I have no pity
for myself.
I’ve refused to believe
that taking a pill
would vacuum
away the half finished
poems and the
torn up ideas I have
in my mind.
It’s become very
difficult
to explain
myself.
Most times I wish
I didn’t have too.
I’ve never been approachable.
I look mean
But I promise
I’ve always tried to give
everything.
I always thought
that if I said yes
then so would others.
I woke up that Saturday
at five a.m.
Realizing
that the world kept moving
when mine slowed down.
School will still come
and so will tomorrow.
Give me a pack of cigarettes
Because it’s much easier
to wash that smell from my mouth
than it is to get
these thoughts out.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
You find yourself alone at last
amongst the masses.
Out where the sunset sits
cross-legged in the sky,
staring downward through
the evening.
Such beautiful backdrop
for such ugly company,
all of it painted on canvas;
ochres, violets, varying
shades of autumn gray.
Find yourself bummed out
on the side of the curb,
sharing insults
with the passing traffic.
Even the devil has company,
but here you are alone,
sharing cigarettes and
cheap conversation with
the cement.
Night comes without urgency
and you are left in it;
bad breath and
a dense, colored
evening air that
burns the lungs
with coming winter.
The pub sign down the road
leans out from her window,
peering scornfully down
through her thick, iron grates.
Red and blue lights
blink disapproval against the pavement.
But maybe that rough pavement
can almost feel sweet
to the touch.
Maybe that rough pavement
can be soft; a woman's curve,
if you get it just right.
The old beer bottle
leans in and tells
you a terrible secret
before putting his cap
back on, strolling
off into that setting sun.
Skipping rocks
off an ocean of rubble
and asphalt
before they careen
into the grass.
Even the devil has company,
but sometimes it is
not so bad to be alone.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
I'm gonna wear
my weathered cardigans
and be swallowed by the pack
of Seattle commutes
with my vinyl records in one hand,
a guitar in the other,
and a backpack full of
J. Kerouac and C. Bukowski
and R. Adams and L. Cohen.
I gonna live
off of the San Francisco Bay saltwater
and the bummed cigarettes outside
of bars that play nicotine music
to my ears.
I'm gonna sleep
on the ground in front of cookie-cutter houses
with their fence posts painted white.
I'll feel my psyche strum its last chord
and soon I'll be gone
without a sound.
I'm gonna die
in a new town where nobody knows my name.
I'll be a Chicago artist
full of New York poetry,
a Great Britain romantic
full of Alameda Victorian architecture,
or a Nebraska idiot
full of Midwest ambition.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
life should be like making peanut butter pie.
fairly easy,
a five ingredient sorta thing,
where you have most of it in your cupboards already.
a little messy,
like when you turn the mixer on high,
instead of medium,
and peanut butter dances across you chin.
super sweet,
a cup of powdered sugar,
could make the whole day a little easier.
rewarding,
like when mom smiles at the creation you've made,
and dad laughs at the peanut butter on your chin.
and it won't last too long,
and you might feel like it disappears too quick,
and be bummed when the last piece is gone,
but remember, that pie was good.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
I first met God when from me he bummed a cigarette,
I asked him how I can win this bet,
and to let go of her and be ok,
he asked which girl with a smile in a way,
I said all of them because I just want to hear all of them say,
you were alright,
he took a drag and said we had met before,
when I was again in Florida I was feeling this down and poor,
we had a drink,
you asked what this life was all about,
and with a smile with shades of a pout,
I told you that only you could figure that out,
his cigarette was done and so was mine,
I asked again if this was just a waiting line,
or just a road covered with dust,
he flicked it and said that I always will have my lust,
for the future,
for the present,
for the past,
and I may feel like in the line I am last,
but really there is no line or road,
and this isnt a secret code,
he said I was ok,
then asked for another cigarette.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
Sitting in tired classrooms at the edge of everything, teetering on the precipice with coffee cups hidden between our thighs; taking secret sips just to get by.
We cried ourselves to sleep last night but we're here now, staring mindlessly into rows of maroon chairs & tan desks.
We're dragging each other from Monday through Friday with empathetic sighs & bummed cigarettes.
We're aching for the weekend so that we can drown our insides until we drown the memory of this place.
We're racing up the same road that has carried us home, five days a week for the past four years.
We left our childhood kicking up dust, as it chased behind us at fourteen.
We buried him on a cold February afternoon but didn't accept that he was gone until mid June.
She was crushed under the weight of metal slamming cold, hard steel on a windy road with the April rain pouring through shattered glass.
Casket closed and our sixteen year old eyes wired open.
He flatlined on his living room floor & I only spoke in ball point pens all summer long.
But we're older now & we're eager to find pain in different faces.
Well, you can find me in the city, writing nostalgic poems on the back of every photograph we took in the suburbs.
You can find me counting street lights, on my back where I used to count stars in your arms.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
I went and placed a wanted ad
Inside my local discount rag
Hoping someone somewhere might have
Some new words they could send my way
I've started feeling slightly bummed
Using the same old worn out ones
To me they are no longer fun
Plus I need something new to say
The ad went something like this
Needed...New Words With New Ideas
Dial 955-3636
For where to drop off your resume
The words they started pouring in
From short to fat to long to thin
With no idea where to begin
I'll try my hand at come what may
With the new words I did not mince
I poured over them all with diligence
No matter past or present tense
It took up most of the day
With the new words all now lined up
I'm ready to try some different stuff
So hold on tight this may get rough
Never said it'd be a piece of cake
It'll still take effort and some work
To find the right rhyme and perfect verse
That fit the newly acquired words
To help along the way with what I now have to say
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
The emotion called emotion set out to look at the world one day,
He thought he’d take the day off to make some merry and gay,
Strolling by he entered a village farm and the animals all jumped,
They’d never seen an emotion like him; they couldn’t understand what they felt,
Emotion ran away from there, leaving the animals feeling nothing but bummed,
The emotion called emotion went to unwind at the bar nearby,
He guessed at least his fast friend alcohol would love to have him drop by,
As soon as the pub’s door opened and he set foot inside,
All heads turned, and colour drained from their hides,
Alcohol shouted to his pal ‘run from here o emotion; the people in here I beguile’,
‘I keep them away from all emotion; all I told you about happiness around me was a lie’,
The emotion was confused, it was something he’d never felt before,
He was a straight thinker, he’d always been so sure,
As he was strutting down the road, all lost in thought and head in cloud,
The emotion stumbled upon a great saint; busy in meditation, wrapped in a saffron shroud,
He considered talking advice and expressed desire to enter the saint’s psyche,
Then quietly he was shown to the saint’s wisdom, through a secret passage deep deep inside,
There he sought answers to his quest; he asked the wise one in all earnest:
‘Why do people fear me? I never let them to sorrow or pain...’
‘I am a simple emotion; I never put them under any strain....’
The wisdom replied: ‘why do I meet you in here old friend? Why this secrecy you must wonder...’
‘Herein lies the answer to all your queries, I keep away from you so I can think and ponder.’
“I am free of you so am known as the wise one, if I let you in it’ll spoil all the fun.
Although I know you’re right, you are the simplest and so you beget happiness on a platter.
But to comprehend you, one must be free of you and that’s how you complicate matters,
If one were to always listen to you I would be lost, I would become secondary and I can’t bear that cost.
That is why we don’t meet old’ friend, it is for my significance that you must disappear,
But in search of happiness people get confused between you and me and then it is you they have to fear...”
The emotion called emotion was not satisfied with this response,
Seeing this, the wisdom went back to his own trance.
“You seem troubled my dear, but there is no need to be;
Go back home, get to work and let me get to mine,
Be the guy you were, frolicking, wandering and always carefree,
It’s almost dawn now, go rise and shine.”
The emotion called emotion quietly took the saint’s advice,
He went off home to being who he always was in a trice.
Things went back to normal, no work was stalled,
The only lesson he learned was:
That “an emotion never thinks at all”
That “An emotion never thinks at all......”
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 7:37 AM UTC
I lost some muscle tone today
Lying around and writing dumb poems
I gained a little *** belly (maybe)
My boyfriend will be bummed if he notices
My house is still a mess
I feel trapped by the mess
Just clean
You're your own mama now.
No time for this existential mental ************
Blue collar FTW.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 5:27 PM UTC
I sleep in a crater on the far side of the moon.
I tell tales to the moon-cats about the warm month of June.
We sing songs with no lyrics, because moon-cats don't speak;
while we wait for the pizza guy who's been late for a week.
I sleep in a tree in the west end of the park.
I stripped it of leaves and all of its bark.
I just bummed five bucks off of a guy jogging by;
he said "fight the power", and held his fist in the sky.
I sleep in my car, somewhere outside of Denver.
Don't ask for how long, I don't really remember.
I met a weird looking guy and he said "Hocus Pocus",
now I spend all of my days in the back of my Focus.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
The triazolam is draining out.
Seeping down a peptic route.
Antacids disintegrate the lining.
Pain leaves me pinning.
Drowning on pink.
Spat up in the sink.
This sickness is wearing me thin.
Unsafe in my own skin.
Prescribed relief in the form of cold sweats.
Unapproved medicine tested on pets.
The rainbow pillbox comes in a set.
Getting wealthy off of the net.
Anemic royalty.
Sipping on Pennyroyal Tea.
Taking a drive to San Andres.
Dinning on mixed sangrias.
Bummed for a hit.
Blown…spit.
Complexion grows yellow.
The cost of my mellow.
Prescribed relief in a hospital bed.
Deaf to kind words said.
Can’t escape the notion in my head.
Telling me I’m already dead.
Loss of focus.
These drugs are bogus.
Light gradually fades away.
Soiled underwear, the thing to stay.
Soul ripped and torn apart.
Taken away on a crash cart.
Transfusion first, dialysis later.
Lack of a pulse, huge deflator.
Prescribed relief in the form of cremation.
Ceremony held, not a single relation.
No will left as a last proclamation.
Assets absorbed by a forfeiture corporation.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
I used to be blind before I met you.
Walking around with shades a pitch darker than necessary
And long side swept bangs across the small frame of my face
Partly covering my eyes.
It was pleasant to hide behind
Especially when introduced to new places, new faces.
I'd just let out a shy smile behind the fringes of my hair
Then quietly cower away
Melting back into the atmosphere.
My head is swamped with enough thoughts to
Keep me occupied for hours.
It was my playground,
My stonewall castle,
My home.
And every time I ever felt stupid or small,
I'd just reside behind my front
And settle myself deeper into the pity party resort
I had built and been renovating for years.
You, on the contrary, didn't see the girl I'd see in the mirror.
I was more than just another figure in the background to you,
I was more than a pair of nice eyes and *******
More than a waste of space,
I was your fancy and you saw right through me,
Which scared me so.
This veil, this front, and the tricks I had up my sleeve
To keep everyone who could ever come close to caring out,
Wouldn't work so well on you.
Nope.
Instead, you grew more curious,
You would ask questions,
Laugh at my remarks,
Insist that I elaborate,
Tell me to speak up because you knew
How I had so much to say
But how soft spoken I can be.
It was raining one night and we were all out back by the garage
Sipping out of cheap beer cans and smoking our bummed cigarettes..
I walked outside to dance in the rain and you followed me there.
I remember how your steps were directly behind mine in perfect sync,
Then with the swift piercing stare of your big blue eyes
I melted right into the brick wall.
My bones turned to jelly and the tape that was over my eyelids
fell right off because your fingers managed to brush them open,
And from that point on, I no longer saw a point in closing them.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC