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jasmine Aug 2013
he threw dirt into the crevices of my mind

making it a horrid, wretched place

but you came along

and planted flowers.
Melanie Cordova Dec 2015
You my dear are my
Beautiful Distaster
Your beauty bounds me
But you are a tornado through my soul
Just a little something! Thoughts?
Emma Amme Jan 2014
I dont have a tendency to write things when im happy,
Only when things are breaking or crashing down.
Dysfuntion usually laces the words that end up on my paper
Going down my readers throat, so that im not the only one
Whos infected with mayhem.
I am still writing about dysfuntion
But with the flavor of fantastic confusion.
Because I used to think that when you met someone
Youd know right away, that they were important.
Until now, I found out that you could meet your best friends ex
As a sophomore in spanish 3 and wait for another year
And still not know that they make you smile.
That my dear is dysfunction.
You can then finally meet them in a class
That you werent going to take in the first place.
And let them read about your biggest fears and happiest moments
Finding out that you dont have one bit of trouble letting them in.
Still you wait though, because its highschool
You will either break up soon or break up when you graduate
So why bother in the first place, if you know itll only end in distaster and heart break.
But they stay and they let you figure things out
And you ask for time
And you ask for time
And you ask for time
And thats what they give you.
And you question and question and question
And they answer and answer and answer
Until you have no choice but to accept that they are special
Because they dont make you nervous when they say the word girlfriend
And they don’t make it awkward when you ask them questions not fit for 3 weeks
They arent juvinille with the expectations of hand holding and careless I love yous.
So you let them come to your house and meet your parents and you go to theirs
You make the mistake of developing a loose mouth, and take oppurtunities
To tell your uncles and aunts about how wonderful they are and you feel yourself
Digging a hole deeper and deeper into the ground made of them.
And you know that when it ends, you will be so deep
That it will take you forever to get out.
But you stay and that is dysfuntion in its finest
Because you know the longer you stay, the more itll hurt to leave
But you stay anyways because they make you smile, and they make you laugh
And they make you happy.
So if this is what type of dysfuntion my writing will be laced with then
Let it come by the gallons.
andrea hundt Oct 2013
You are the word that no one can speak aloud,
That cannot be spelled or pronounced.
You are the feeling of bravery and accomplishment, of cowardice and failure.
You are a paradox, a contradiction, a distaster.

You are what no one can know,
But everyone can feel.
Aaron LaLux Aug 2016
Making Broken Patterns

We’re all broken,
that’s why everyone’s searching for a fix,
we’re all hoping,
for a reason to believe well maybe this is it.

Here I sit,
alone again,
as are you,
I sense a trend,

a pattern,
of minor disasters,
mixed with,
major factors,
combines to,
define you,
into whatever comes after,

all the world’s a stage,
all of us are actors,
in The Book of Life until we turn the page,
and enter into the next chapter,

laughter,
from the voyeuristic crowd,
soundtrack,
from the orchestra of sounds,

sounds,
a lot like life right,
now,
we are all in the limelight,

our scars are watercolors,
our feelings are ink,
our attitude is honest art,
we use pain and bliss to paint the masterpiece,

a distaster we,
are for sure none of us are pure,
as times moves faster we,
see that none of this is sure,

sure,

we’re all broken,
that’s why everyone’s searching for a fix,
we’re all hoping,
for a reason to believe well maybe this is it…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
No notes...
Valerie Csorba Jan 2015
My bed has become too big for me.

And not in the sense where my limbs are dangling off the edges,
But in the sense that there shouldn't be just one person lying alone in the dark listening to the stories the walls are telling.

I've come to the point where my tears either burn on my skin like the razor blades you once turned me off of or I've not any left to shed
Because my soul has become as dry as the desert on account of bleeding out until I had no cells left to live for.

There is no more little bird fluttering it's wings to help me know I'm alive, its pulse has left with mine to go off to paradise and ive become a walking distaster-piece trying to find any amount of solace in being forsaken.

My bed beckons me to come back; to uncover it of whatever clean laundry I didn't feel strongly enough about to put in its proper place, to lay down in its arms again and stay a while..

But I no longer find comfort there.

See, my couch has only room for me just as my heart only had room for you, but now I've been left vacant like another apartment after the lease has expired.

I may as well wonder around with a sign reading 'Damaged heart for rent, contact Valerie at 1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER' as advertisement.

I've clearly peaked your interest as some sort of toy long enough for you to continuously return and play with me.

So, go ahead and make an attempt at erasing the history we have between us, officially published or not it still exists and it still bestows significance within our lives.
In yours.
In mine.

You pick up your phone, your hand trembling as your fingertips carress the numbers designed to reach me and me especially.

Go ahead and make love to me one day and then later treat it like a one night stand because I don't have emotions and God FORBID I would call you out on the way you kissed me goodbye that night and didn't talk to me for days following.

You carefully reach towards the green call button to make the engagement more realistic.

Go ahead and abandon me like everyone else, I don't expect you to need me when I don't even need myself.

"I'm sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error please check the number and try again."

1-800-MYFEELINGSDON'TMATTER

I'm going back to bed.
Jamie Lee Oct 2018
Thinking about pinky swears under old trees
Inscripted with the carving of memories
Do you ever think of me?
A seal of forever brought together by blood from a ***** of a finger
Sisters
Disregarding names or blood and made eachother our own
Because family wasn't always there
Life never left us alone for long,
It dropped you into my lap
And I had always been proud of that
Because in a world full of nothing,
At least I had that

It isnt fair
That life is a game of volley ball and it picked you for the other team
After all the apple juice boxes and scraped knees
I never thought you'd be playing against me
Dropping the ball so carelessly
A score for you, as it always is
It has always been
Maybe I was more of a decoration then a friend- a trophey of loyality
A prized possession for the admiration of a life long friendship
Im another swish in the basket
Our friendship only exsists in a casket
Because it is dead and I cant get past it

It was life long, that was what was said
Under a swing set
Pinky swears and truth or dares
Turned to silence and hurtful glares
Its hard to break the ice when you are so cold
I dont want to hear about the hearts you break,
Hearts of gold
For goodness sake-
But none could hurt more than mine
It hurts every ******* time I look at you
And dont like what I see,
The pain your bringing to yourself and me
Hasnt been so welcoming

But I remember how the class bell would ring-
How we'd run down the steps, how we'd laugh and sing
So tell me, do you ever think of me?
I am alone with an empty swing
A lifetime of friendship didnt mean a thing
When the grasp of a a males hand will always be stronger than me
When we said boys would never be a thing that would come between
I miss when we thought they had cooties
***** me, and sue me
For thinking I had the upper hand
I'll never understand

Being the exception of the rule
You made everyone the fool-
Thinking I was special when the only one who was special was always you
I look into your eyes and I am confused
Because it isnt you
At least thats what I want to think
And what you want me to believe
Out of all the things you held to be so important
It was never me

Only when life was young and free,
Without the threshold of responsiblity
But don't come and say you need things from me,
I won't be made to be
A fool you want me to be

Thinking about pinky swears under old trees
Trees that are wilting, and our intitals will be the only thing
That is ever lasting
And all I can hear is you laughing
Overlapping the time that has been passing
And its time for me to move faster
Away from you,
Because you're a distaster
Because a romance, or a fling,
Will only be the thing that is happily ever after
And of course I will never be that
So I will tip my hat to you
I will no longer be used by you
Or used because I've been dared
To embrace the truth

So **** these trees as I burn them to their roots-
Like my roots came from you
Pinky swears were broken
And I DARE you to tell me the TRUTH
If you were lying when you said you would be there,
Or that you didnt really know or care
If you really dropped the ball,
Or maybe it was me that didn't play fair
So why would you pick me
When your classmates wanted better for the team
And I just didnt make the cut

Linked by the arm,
The Bonnie to my Clyde
Our names always stitched together
Always by my side
Your name was always on my tongue and your home became mine,
Our families knew us by name
And nothing could seperate us
Except time..

The tallys on your wall
In your old house have gotten taller
And thats fine, except its not
It went from smoking ***
And climbing trees
To scraping you off the sidewalk
Trying to get answers
When you're too gone to talk
And I am left without clarity,
Or closure,
And missing you a lot

A ***** pickled brain
Maintains the decisons that you make
The toxicity of your life leaks into mine
Because no matter the distace,
Our lives are intertwined
Blood from the ***** of a finger
Sisters
Where the bond was stronger then blood
When do I cut these ties?
When will enough be enough?
Or will you have me back in a strum?
In a musical hum?

Reaping for attention,
But you haven't been asking for mine
A sunk battle ship.
A game of hide and seek,
Except this time you didn't find me.
A game of hooky,
But I was the one being ditched
A game of truth or dare,
But you ran when the truth hit
You won this game of Clue,
But you have no way to prove it
You've hit me with your bumper car,
And I think its time to move it
We're no longer kids-
And its lazer tag,
Except you're using bullets
I have to except you're out of control
And can not control it

Thinking about pinky swears under old trees,
Old inside jokes, and silly things
Our giggling filling up the room when we were supposed to be asleep
Swingsets and secret places
Happy songs and silly faces
Wishing we could meet back here
In these sacred places
But I don't expect you to pick up the phone

A swingset,
And I'm swinging alone
Initials carved in old trees,
Thank god thats everlasting
In a world that's everchanging
But thats all that will be-
For the path your walking is too scary for me, so I will stay behind

Alone

On a swing
Edward S May 2014
He wears a breaking suit of armour,
Now, a lone wolf soldier.

Standing upon a fortress wall beginning to shatter and break,
It can no longer be held by wooden stakes.

In front is an army that decided to team up,
No longer do they want the door shut.

His army's almost dead,
As a crack of thunder and lightning dance overhead.

The world is being set ablaze,
As the sky is scorched with fire and haze.

Slowly the army nears,
The lone soldier fights to hold back his tears.

He can't bare this much more,
He just want's this to be forgotten, like old lore.

As he falls to his knees, he takes off his helmet and begins to scream,
Why can't this be just a dream?

A distnant nightmare that dosent have to resurface,
Like a pencil mark, easy to erase.

The sky begins to fall and the ground begins to shake,
His mind is begining to break.

He gets back up onto his knees and stares at the distaster around him,
The army marches toward him and they begin to shake their limbs.

He grabs his helemt and his weapon,
As he deals with the tension.

He sees it, the lesson they wan't him to see,
As he hears the broken melody.

It is no longer time for fun,
All that he hears in his head is the word:

Run.
Warda Kashif Dec 2018
the weight is tiring and the spills burn
he stays steady because hes learned
but steady is a skill the young dont have
so he moves slowly
but every movement is a distaster
defeated and in pain
he holds that heavy *** in his shaking hands forever
I hate how she changed. But she didn't change til I did.
It hurts, what they say. But they only live how I live.
Two hands for two faces but Im the real vantriliquist.
The more I fight the deeper I slide inside the holes that only I  dig. In every distaster I am the common denomenator, Im intent on dominating my situation. I'm well aware of my lack of patience. Altercations with myself leave me hear standing at attention, waiting for instruction.  After all  nothing can be different if I stay the way that I am.

— The End —