Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ellen Joyce Jun 2013
Its my body, my money, its up to me what I do with it.
But everyone else is wearing it.
I cant help the way I feel.
Blonde
Red
Orange
Brown
Purple
DMs purple with pink laces
school skirt altered in the textile lab 3" shorter
hormones racing, zipping, vibrating, fizzing till the top pops
stairs made for stomping and storming
cackling laughter crackling down the telephone wire
clothes left on the bedroom floor abandoned for a girl crisis.

You cant read my mind
read my lips
read my body
read my journal sandwiched between the midriff covering cottons gran bought for Christmas and the skimpy lace thong I'd be grounded for buying

Mother's mattress sanitary towels tossed aside
for shamefully purchased tampons
instructions included

and time has passed
and masks have fallen
and I find you there in the muck and the mire
and dust you off
until

I see your face - all mothers lipstick and glittering pink eye shadow
and the smile that stores secrets in a treasure chest.
Your legs shake like Bambi's but you get to your feet
and nestle yourself into me warmly, strongly until you fall right into me
and you run and you run and you run and you run and you run
right through my veins
giggles throbbing through my pulse
pajama parties and homemade perfume radiating in my eyes
and there you are
and there I am.
This poem was inspired by and dedicated to Eve Ensler and her book 'I am an Emotional Creature' which expresses girlhood in relation to men and women as something which we are all encouraged to surpress.  This is a snippet of my girlishness - the girl I was, am and will always be.
Written 2011
Ellen Joyce Jun 2013
And then you're sleeping -
purring kitten curled in pink DMs
all crumpled kisses and angel hair
caught in a dream catcher web.

My heart rests from braying helpless fury against my ribs
from bruising sinew and self
pouring frustration through my veins
in the ache of wanting to make it better.

I'm tracing history, yours and mine in the contours of your face.
Ballerina fingers shimmer in the laugh lines that are you.
My breath bowing to scars of battles that made you,
head cocked in awe of the woman you are.

my heart whispers a familiar promise - together.
For my best friend and soul mate Rachel whose friendship and sisterhood brings joy to my life, light to my dark times and most beautiful companionship to my journey.
Two Bulgarian poets entered “The Second Genesis” – Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry – India’2014
Poems of the Bulgarian poets Bozhidar Pangelov and Mira Dushkova are included in the Indian project “The Second Genesis: An Anthology of Contemporary World Poetry”. Bozhidar Pangelov’s poems are: “Time is an Idea” and “…I hear” translated by Vessislava Savova; as for Mira Dushkova’s poems – “Beyond”, “Sozopolis” and “The Girl”, they were translated by Petar Kadiyski.


For the authors:
Bozhidar Pangelov was born in the soft month of October in the city of the chestnut trees, Sofia, Bulgaria, where he lives and works. He likes joking that the only authorship which he acknowledges are his three children and the job-hobby in the sphere of the business services. His first book Four Cycles (2005) written entirely with an unknown author but in a complete synchronous on motifs of the Hellenic legends and mythos. The coauthor (Vanja Konstantinova) is an editor of his next book Delta (2005) and she is the woman whom “The Girl Who…” (2008) is dedicated to. His last (so far) book is “The Man Who…” (2009). In June 2013 a bi lingual poetry book A Feather of Fujiama is being published in Amazon.com as a Kindle edition. Some of his poems are translated in Italian, German, Polish, Russian, Chinese and English languages and are published on poetry sites as well as in anthologies and some periodicals all over the world. Bozhidar Pangelov is on of the German project Europe takes Europa ein Gedicht. “Castrop Rauxel ein Gedicht RUHR 2010” and the project “SPRING POETRY RAIN 2012”, Cyprus.
Mira Dushkova (1974) was born in in Veliko Tarnovo, the medieval capital of Bulgaria. She earned a MA degree from the University of Veliko Tarnovo, and later on a PhD in Modern Bulgarian Literature, from Ruse University Angel Kanchev, in 2010, where she is currently teaching literature courses.
Her writing includes poetry, essays, literary criticism and short stories. She has published several poetry books in Bulgarian: “I Try Histories As Clothes“ (1998), „Exercise On The Scarecrow” (2000), „Scents and Sights“ (2004), literary monograph “Semper Idem : Konstantin Konstantinov. Poetics of the late stories“ (2012, 2013) and the story collection „Invisible Things“ (2014).
Her poems have been published in literary editions in Bulgaria, USA, Sweden, Hungary, Croatia, Romania, Turkey and India. Some of her poems and essays have been first prize winners of different Bulgarian contests for literature.
She has attended poetry festivals in Bulgaria, Croatia (Zagreb) and Turkey (Istanbul and Ordu).
She lives in Ruse – Bulgaria.

For the Antology “The Second Genesis”:
In the anthology titled „The Second Genesis“ are published the poems of 150 poets from 57 countries. All poems are in English. The Antology consists of 546 pages. “The Second Genesis” includes authors’ and editors’ biographies and three indexes: of the authors; of the poem titles and an index based on the first verses. It is issued by “A.R.A.W.LII” (Academy of ‘raitɘ(s) And Word Literati) – an academy, which encourages literature and creative writing and realizes cultural connections between India and the other countries. Four times a year ARAWLII publishes in India the international magazine for poetry and creative writing „Prosopisia“. Its Chief Editor and President of A.R.A.W.LII is Prof. Anuraag Sharma. He is also author of Antology’s Introduction.
Participating Countries:
Albania, Argentina, Armenia, Australia, Belgium, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Brazil, Bulgaria, Albania, Great Britain, Germany, Greece, Denmark, Egypt, Estonia, India, Iran, Iraq, Ireland, Israel, Spain, Italy, Jordan, Canada, Cyprus, China, Kosovo, Cuba, Macao, Macedonia, Niger, Norway, Pakistan, Palestine, Poland, Puerto Rico, Romania, Russia, Saudi Arabia, USA, Singapore, Syria, Serbia, Taiwan, Tunis, Turkey, Fiji, Philippines, Finland, France, Holland, Croatia, Montenegro, Czech Republic, Chile, Sweden, Switzerland, Scotland, South Africa, Japan
For the editors:
Anuraag Sharma – editor and president of A.R.A.W.LII
Poet, critic, author of short stories, translator and playwrighter, Anuraag has to his credit the following publications: “Kiske Liye?”, “Punarbhava”, “Audhava”, Dimensions of the Angel: A Study of the poetry of Les Murray’s Poetry “Iswaswillbe” – a collection of short stories, “Setu” (“The Bridges”). He has also co-editor the volume of conference papers: ”Caring Cultures: Sharing Imaginations. Some of his recent publications include: “A Trilogy of plays”, “Mehraab” (“The Arch”) – translations of selected poems of four Canberra Poets, “Papa and Other Poems”, “Sau Baras Ka Sitara Eik” – translation of Andrew Parkin’s “A Star of Hundred Years”, “As if a wooden house I am”- translations of Surendra Chaturverdi, “Satish Verma: The Poet” and “Tere Jaane ke Baad Tere Aane as Pehle”. He is also editor-in-chief of two international journals – “Lemuria” and “Prosopisia”. Currently he is working as a Professor in English at Govt. College “Kekri” Ajmer, India.

Moizur Rehman Khan – co-redactor, project manager, secretary of A.R.A.W.LII
He studied Urdo and Persian Literature in college and later on competed his master degree in English literature from “Dayanand” College, Ajmer, India. He completed his research dissertation under the supervision of Anuraag Sharma on “Major themes in the poetry of Chris Wallas-Crabbe”. He is a creative writer. His poems and articles have been published in various magazines and journals. Currently he is teaching English at DMS, RIE, Ajmer, India.
References for the Antology:
“No middle no end, the poems in The Second Genesis have been speaking to you long before the beginning and will continue without you…don’t worry, its binding has long since unglued, its pages, worn and disheveled, will always be speaking to you, they’ve been compiled this way, to be read out of order, backwards, shelved or scattered in an attic between the coffee and greasy finger stains…The Second Genesis is the history of the Book where you become its words, ink and pulp.”
Craig Czury

“The Second Genesis is at the crossroads of a new poetic becoming. a poetry claiming its second beginning not only for art but the heart pulsating and feeding the entire body. This anthology is a successful fusion of unique, inimitable and polyphonic poetry, a well-organized improvisation with a solid and flexible structure.”

Dalia Staponkute

“The Second Genesis, a compendium of world poetry which is also a poetry of the world, suggests so much a new beginning as it does a recognition of the ongoing creation that continues to animate our collective existence. Our precarious era requires a global affirmation that we are all in this together. Poetry has always said as much, and here it says it again, in the idioms of our time.”
Paul Kane
**
“Visionary and international, The Second Genesis, introduced and edited by Anuraag Sharma, sparkles with poetry of insight, intelligence and feeling and is an indispensable reminder of our human aspirations and experience in the early 21st century. Poets from nearly sixty countries rub shoulders in this ambitious and wide-ranging collection, and their poems resonate and mingle in a multi-layered voice. It is the voice of our humanity.
In his Introduction, Dr. Sharma points to the invaluable importance of poetry in what he calls our destructive Lear era:
Beyond the Lear Century, across the 21st Century lies the island of Prospero and Ariel and Miranda and Ferdinand – the region of faith, hope and innocence, the land of virtue, and all forgiveness sans grievances, sans regrets, sans curses. The doleful shades lead to pastures new.
We must weigh our hopes. The Second Genesis is at hand….”
Diana Sampey
Jr Estinova Mar 2018
I DON'T GIVE A ****!"
WHY?
"You asking me why?"
"When was the last time we spoke ?:
"When was the last time you saw her?"
Who?
"Don't play stupid with me
I'm not tryna hear all that
I'm out
You are such ******* *******"

Your eccentric personality
The illusions
The constant confusions
The subtweets
The words
The allure
The pseudo care
The Korean noodles
The massages
The animal ***
The guilt
The phone calls
The texts
The drama
Repeat

We lie to lay with each other
To find out about each other
Till clever words
Make us distant
Eluding your illusions
A handful
Even for my two hands
Checking on me like a baseman in the ninth inning  
Patrolling my twitter is what keeps you winning

DMs got me sinning
DMs got me sinning
DMs got me sinning?

DMs got me feeling tremendous
Newness and
New man
New thing.

out in the west end
Ria Aug 2014
words are so complicated when trying to describe someone who you really adore and admire
there are 26 letters in the English alphabet but why does it feel like there should be more?
so here are several reasons why i cherish bianca

number one: she is so understanding and easy to talk to, like at first i thought she was an untouchable force; some sort of female celestial being you know
i was shocked she followed me via twitter and that's how we met
we both were sad
yep, sad that's the word to describe it
a gloomy looming figure standing on top of your heart

number two: she told me who she wrote about, (i don't know if you remember lil' sunflower) but i asked her once
-and mind you, i was terrified of how she'd react because i was so interested and i usually ask other writers, poets, artists who they wrote about.
however, bianca answered truthfully and calmly
in fact she sad nobody asked her this before and i was perplexed why people didn't ask her before in the past

number three: she's like a sunflower,
why? she is such a darling, she's so sweet and she brightens the day by smiling right back at the sun. she needs to rest at night though, so she reads and listens to music and rests just like a sunflower
she also has a knack of cheering me up just like a sunflower

number four: this reason may be stupid but i actually remember her name, so many people i meet i forget their name quickly but hers sticked
i remember her, this is important: i feel like this is my subconscious trying to tell me something. it may seem farfetched but i believe she's special somehow, i may be crazy for saying this....but yeah lol

number five: she has goals in life
this darling has real aspirations in her time here, which i admire about her

number six: her fashion/makeup factor is so on point
we have similar tastes in fashion and makeup hence we watch the same youtubers and such, i really like this about her
it shows more of her quirky and interesting personality

number seven: lucky seven, she loves tea
i don't mean she just drinks it, she breathes tea,
we like the same types as well: none of that nasty berry tea (sorry)

number eight: she can understand me, she listens
bianca listens to my ridiculous little rants all the time even if they're stupid and tedious and i really thank her for this, i go to her when i feel like the four walls are closing in on me and she really does listen to what i have to say

number nine: we plan on meeting someday...
when we both gain some self-confidence and when a jolt of adrenaline kicks in, i'm super excited

number ten: i know there are more reasons but this is where this letter shall end today
she puts up with my stupid imessage not working and the dms on twitter suffice for our friendship, sigh it's annoying but true

i love you darling dear, i hope you have a wonderful night!!

sincerely,
Ria **
this is a letter to one of the sweetest people i know on this odd lil planet
Azaria Jul 2018
trying not to
**** myself like
gratitude journals
and internalizing every
word on drake's new album
trying to understand
why you want to **** me
in the middle of
12 am twitter dms
wearing your words
like a straight jacket
that once made me feel
free
tiny desk concerts like
a hard life lesson
with lukewarm thoughts
of you on the hottest
of days
Anastasia Feb 2018
Quit smoking and excessive drinking,
It was supposed to help with healthy thinking.
That day I made it clear to myself
It's also time to quit you.

Gone ******* greens, had spinach, kale daily.
Worked out every other day, I even had a schedule.
On weekly basis: abs, some arms and lots of ***.
My selfie game was on point, I got a tonne DMs.

Until a day I saw you holding hands
And heard you called her 'girlfriend'.
You never called me that in front of your best friends.
It really hurt, I couldn’t stop it.

That day I started smoking cigarettes again
And drinking wine, I had no schedule.
I've made a lot of calls and texts
Quite clearly, I couldn't quit you.

I liked you when you’ve had a ‘few’ tequilas
You’d talk things intimate, it felt as if you mean it.

I really hope you go back to heavy drinking
And start to feel instead of thinking.
Silvanna Najri S Nov 2018
Dear lover,

I finally found the foundation I thought I’ve lost at your grandmother’s house during the summer,
It was where you told me it was,
Inside my luggage indeed.

Along with many other things that I haven’t seen in a while such as
My guitar pick,
My jewelry,
My camera,
Your hoodie,
My hoodie really.
My hair brush,
My seashells from Revere beach,
And a bunch of pictures from us that I never wanted to throw away and I never will.

I put them all in a drawer next to my bed,
The drawer closest to my head,
The drawer that I never open because there is a valentines day card turned upside down,
I refuse to see the massage.


- Dear friend,

I haven’t called you in a while and I’m sorry I disappeared,
I don’t want to bring you down with my depression,
I just don’t think I should add anything else to your plate,
And I’m sorry if I did.

I think I made a mistake,
And I need your help,
But I don’t want your help,
Because I don’t deserve it.

I hid the keys from my drawer and I forgot where I put them.

Now I don’t have access to my most valuable items,

They’re not lost,
I never lost them,
I never threw them away,
And never will,

I just can’t reach them.
I can’t reach to you either,
That’s funny.


- Dear guy that follows me on Instagram,

Your pictures really attract me,
I know that beautiful things can start with just one like,
So I liked all your pictures,
And you liked all mines back,

Is this going somewhere?
Should I slide to through the DMs
A simple "hello?"
A concerning “How are you?”
A heartbreaking “Hey”
A disappointing “I’m sorry”

And that’s why I never wrote back,
And never answered the calls,
And made sure that you knew that I wasn’t going to,
And I didn’t
But now I am.


- Dear stranger,

I love how we vibed for the shortest
And I think that’s a sign for us to vibe longer.

Wanna hang some time?

And if you don’t want to that’s fine,
I get it…

I don’t.
I don’t get it.

I want to hang out with you,
I want to be with you,
I want to be able to like your pictures and not feel that I’m annoying you,

And I want to be able to feel something beautiful when you upload a new picture.

Instead of feeling a sinking hole form right in the middle of my rib cage
,
Swallowing my heart and my bones,
Feeling that they're poking my lungs,
And ripping them apart.

I can’t breath because you’re gone,
You’re not the guy that follows me on instagram anymore,
So I can’t call you that,
And you don’t want me to reach out to you,
And I want your help,
And just your help,
Because you’re the cause of my mistake.

I can’t call you a friend,
Because friends don’t let other friends cry on their own,
And they’re not cold when they go to the hospital for attempted suicide,
They’re not cold when they beg them to not hang up the phone,
They’re just not cold.
And you are,

And it’s my fault.


- Dear stranger,

I found the keys to my drawer.
I’ll send you back your hoodie.
Jaicob Dec 2020
-Hate yourself to the point of misery

-Slash your skin into oblivion

-Make your flesh a canopy of the hatred you feel

-Still feel numb after all of the pain

-Get yourself a rope

-Hang the rope on a sturdy branch

-Tie the knot properly
         - make a loop
         - spiral the rope around the loop
         - tuck the rope through the loop
         - pull on the end to tighten

-Pull a stool under your necklace

-Stand on the stood and wear your craft

-Kick the stool away

-"Look, Mum! No hands!"

-Think of your mum.... and others you love...

-Gasp for air but find none

-Shed a tear, cry out in agony

-Feel your neck being stretched out

-Remember the lovely touches from your loved ones... Remember how your brother used to nuzzle up by your chest and whisper against your neck

-Remember the times your friends used to hug you around the neck

-Remember the way Their lips felt against your supple skin

-Cry out harshly one final time

...Darkness

                                       Nothing is left anymore...



-You did it!

------------------------------------------------------------­-------------------------
The pain you face doesn't go away when you do. It's simply transferred onto others. The ones who cry at your funeral, the ones who will miss your voice, the ones who notice an empty place where you used to sit, the ones who shed a tear at the mention of your name, and even the ones who seemed to hate you will still love you the same. They'll be devastated. If you ever need to talk with somebody, I've been here before. I've been to the lowest of lows, and I've attempted before. You can always talk with me. My instagram DMs are open all the time. @darlingdrawingqueen

Don't be afraid to reach out. Your life is important, and you are loved by so many people. If not until now, then I love you. I love you so much, and I really want to get to know you.
If you're ever feeling this way, please reach out to somebody. If nobody else, you can ALWAYS message me. I love you dearly, and life will get easier, darling. I promise.
You were special
Had a way with words
Words ya see get you into trouble
Say the wrong thing and you won't get a text back
Chantelle Iles Apr 2019
Life hasn't been easy, sometimes it gets really tough,
I grew up in Plymouth, a place that's really rough,
My parents both drug addicts, didn't show me love,
And now I always wonder, if I'll ever be enough.

All the kids at school used to sit and make fun of me,
The girl that always had clothes which were *****,
Then I glowed up, starting growing *****,
Now the same kids wanna slide in my DMs like, "what's new?"

I worked hard just to get where I am,
So please forgive me if I flex on the gram,
Hustle in silence, everyday I grind,
Always made sure that my bills paid on time.

Moved out of home when I was just 17,
Started realising that I could live a dream,
Went from living on the streets,
To paying so all my friends could eat.

I had to grow up fast, so I could see the world,
If I hadn't, sure I'd still be a little girl,
No worries, no stress, no tears in the bed,
Nothing to complain about, no anxieties in my head.

Talking about anxiety, depression and stress,
Let me tell you, I still know how to impress,
Bury the anger, the pain and aggression,
Only thing to shout about is progression.

Enemies of progress, will never see you succeed,
So is that really the type of energy you need,
Started meditating so I could just be free,
Now all these fake ******* tryin' to be me.
laura Jul 2022
settling into the lushness
of Summer, uneasily, unsteadily
aching to see if there’s a catch

my shaky shaky fingies
entwined and ensconced
dying to hollow out my phone

read my past DMs and died
of cringe, can’t reinvent the blank state
stir the treetops, the sunset an orange bier~
so basically i died irl
Jazmine Moore May 2014
I wonder when people will stop falling in love through Instagram and twitter dms.
Having a false sense of acceptance through likes and retweets has become a norm for our world and I'm wondering when it'll stop.
I wonder when boys will stop being so afraid to love and girls will believe that men actually aren't all the same...
And I wonder when gays will have the rights they deserve and I wonder when women will stop being looked at as the white mans inferior
And I wonder when more women will actually believe that we don't have to be the white mans inferior
And I wonder when men will learn its okay to be a little vulnerable
And I wonder when **** victims everywhere will get the justice they seem to neglect to serve
And I wonder when double standards will seize to exist
And I wonder when people will get off social networks and go for more walks
And I wonder when dates become more common and one night stands will become extinct
I wonder when men will stop disrespecting our women and women will respect themselves more.
I wonder when I'll stop dreaming about all of these things.
But most of all, I wonder when we will decide we are the ones who control our own happiness
Riptide Apr 2018
I'm hurt

I'm hurt
I'm hurt

I'm hurt
Because I just realized

You were hurt
By someone that didn't deserve you
By someone that didn't respect you
By someone that didn't see your beauty

By someone that didn't appreciate you

All your grandeur, he didn't see
And that was your cue

I'm hurt because
When you were hurt

The only way you saw healing

Was by masking your hurt
Not caring who you gave yourself to...
What you gave of yourself
To all that fitted the shoe

So you stacked them up
In the hideous name of "not catching feelings"

You let them do as they wish
Touch you as they saw fit
I'm not saying there is one without blemish
But how can this pass without anguish
When one is truly supposed to love you
To see a queen live like a peasant.
And not cry to sleep in anguish,
When they're in awe of the queen within.

So many have grappled
On this emerald
That you became numb.

Can you even feel that?
My warm hand on your heart.

You say it was about keeping Her happy
How true is that?
How happy was Kylie?
How long did you keep her happy for?
How long did your satisfaction last for?

He dug a hole
You tried to fill it with sinking sand
Now whoever dares to tread
Is actually walking on a thin thread
Slowly slipping
Into the hole you didn't make whole

You sing "men are trash"
As if they are the ones you didn't give Kylie to.
I'm sorry if this is coming off too harsh
Because I want to love Kylie too.
But you gave her away
Turned a blind eye

Put conviction in your reason,

Camouflaged the tears,
Like putting sunglasses on blind eyes.

You sing "men are trash"
"Men ain't ****"

Yes, we make the lyrics
But sometimes women play the instruments

And this, some horrific genre

That we play on social media...

And parties

That we enjoy
With a little bit of intoxication
We enjoy the band play
With a few likes and DMs
We enjoy the band play

You sing "men are trash",
You tell me I'm trash.

When all I'm here for is to love you,

To truly love you of a few.

Not for a motel night's crash
But for a home.
Not for a bottle and some musical trash
But for some Shiraz, soulful indie music and romantic dancing in the dark.
Not to take advantage of Kylie

But to love her too.

You tried to heal
But you didn't.
And I see your beauty
I appreciate you
I respect you...
I see how special you are
How magnificent your mind and soul are.
Your glimmering smile
Your astronomical eyes
All that grandeur,
I see it.

I relish it.

I'm hurt
Because you're still hurt.

I feel like I'm sinking
And you're watching me
Like it's fine because this is the farthest anyone has come in this sinking sand

I want to love you.
I'm trying to love you.
But the hurt you let define you.
Is now veiling what I harbour for you

I'm hurt
Because I want you to stop hurting.
And to help you
I must help myself...
So that I can lift this veil.
For together we can take control of the helm;
Enabling what is meant to be,
Be.
Love shouldn't be a battle but all we do is fight 
when I think I'm the only one some other guy arrives 
Then he pops up in your DMs and tells you that your fine 
But I'm giving you my love, he can only give you likes 
On instagram and Facebook and Twitter and snap chat 
And you're sending him snaps of 3 seconds of how your *** fat
Hoping that the time is too short for him to screen grab that 
But if he was beside you I'm pretty sure he would grab that 
Another guy on your whatsapp everyday he tells you whatsup
You say I'm good and he asks for nudes and you tell him to shut up 
But why would he when his friend has told him that your ****** up 
Now your nudes have gone viral every day a new boy pops up
So you have lost respect for yourself and they have lost respect for you 
Now everyboy is asking for nudes cos that's all they expect from you 
And girl, you know I'm here for you, I'm the only guy who would treasure you 
I'll break necks for you I'm right next to you if you run I'll be after you
On instagram he likes every of your photo 
Then you get excited when he asks you for a follow 
Cos your friend said he's fine and he drives his parents car 
Money is not the root of evil, bad friends are 
Now he's chatting you up tells you you're always on his mind 
Soon he says let's meet up come hop into my ride 
You're still not back home and it's the middle of the night 
I was with your mum, she never slept she only cried 
Two days later in the evening by five 
The police knocked on the door asked if they could come inside 
They told your mum you weren't missing but you died 
My only wish is that you listened to all of my advice
Gracie Anne Sep 2021
Her small round face stares back at her
Blinking blue eyes in the bright blue light and
She looks around knowing it’s wrong but not daring to ask why
While chubby pale fingers type in the line
“Chat rooms for kids”

She know that she is not yet old enough to be here
She’s only nine but she checks the box to assure the website that, yes,
She is 18 years old or above and, yes,
She understands that there is adult content present inside of this room and, yes,
Child **** is not permitted beyond this door.

But to a nine year old these letters on the page are meaningless.
She doesn’t know what adult content is or even how to
Pronounce the word ******* precisely.
All she knows is that in a matter of clicks
She will mean something.
She will mean something, and she will have worth.
She will be loved and cared for and praised and called a
Good girl, a
Babygirl, a
Kitten, a
Beautiful
Stunning
Delicious looking darling.

She learns new vocabulary terms but instead of words like
C-C-Contrast or
T-T-Typical or
D-D-Difficult
She begins to ingrain in her brain new and exciting words like
C-C-**** or
T-T-**** or
D-D-****.
She even learns how to use these fancy adult-y adultery words in a sentence like
“How big is your C-C-****?” and
“I don’t have T-T-**** yet” and
“I want to touch your D-D-****”.
And with every letter her tiny hands typed out, more and more men
Flocked to her DMs, ready to give her all the love she could ever need if only
In exchange for a couple of things…
Will you do a dance for me?
Will you say this sentence for me?
Why don’t you take your shirt off for me?
Show me what such a big girl can do with that P-P-*****.

And she continues to learn new things such as that
ASL means age, ***, location and that anything above 7 inches is
A good and impressive and “wow” thing and that
If she does what these men on the screen ask her to then
She will make them happy, which makes her happy, which means that she has done good.
And she learns that certain ways she moves makes them happier
And certain poses she can do allows them to show her their magic trick.
She doesn’t know how the magic trick works but it doesn’t matter because
When they perform their magic trick they thank her
And praise her and say nice things to her and
That’s all she really wanted.

She found a home in that cream colored background of
Www . chatavenue . com and she knew that even when the world
Was against her sweet, innocent nine year old self that she could
Turn to that blinking cursor and type a few letters and be able to
Feel loved.
And that was all she really wanted.
Amanda Hawk Mar 2021
Sitting next to me, a ghost
Playing with your phone
I watch as you are scrolling
Through Tinder once again

And I know, I should let you go
In that moment, alone my heart
Whispers how lonely I feel
That I grasp my hands together

To feel some support
I scroll through all your fake promises
Flipping through my brain
Every memory of I love you

You were whispering
In someone else’s DMs
While telling me everything
I wanted to hear

To keep me sitting here, alone
A partner to your ghost
As it stitches your name
Deeper into my heart

Plunging the needle deeper and deeper
Until it grinds against bone
To remind me of this cage I built myself
In this one-way love affair

Every compliment followed with a goodbye
And you take me for granted
Whenever you meet up with her
Making my heart the fool once again

To keep me wanting you here, alone
A hostage to your ghost
As it rips apart my seams
Until my heart screams out your name

I wonder if I spoke a ghost
You would hear me
Over the clattering of keys
And grumbling of your greed

I take for granted your warmth
Tucked into fake promises
You dress everything up
In a few pleasing words

To keep my heart vying, alone
A fool to your ghost
Leaving me to piece myself back together
Slowly sewing each scar with care

I can’t help but wish
I had tattooed your name upon my feet
Then maybe
I could walk away
Inspired by the songs "Lonely" and "Tattooed on my Heart" by Bishop Briggs
jamie Dec 2019
today, i wake up wearing an old band t-shirt and i’m sixteen again / pulling jumper sleeves over my palms / keeping my eyes on my feet / earphones in / willing myself invisible / refusing to step out of changing rooms in anything that clings to my skin / flinching from mirrors and cameras / nobody wants to stay too long at the beginning of a cinderella story / before the lenses and makeup and hair-flipping confidence / before the boys who call you a frigid ***** for expressing an opinion start to slide into your DMs / saying “hey, you seem cool, i’d love to hear you talk about feminism.” / but they’d love get you drunk first / love to get funny girl / cool girl / beer-pong and dancing on tables and witty comebacks / always-slipping-out-of-your-hands / let’s-tame-this-shrew-wild-girl / like yeah give this girl a stage but stop her if she makes you uncomfortable / we like a damsel-in-distress, big-blinking-eyes-trophy-wife / not the girl who stood in between her best friend and the ones who mocked her for her body / not the girl with bloodied lips instead of red lipstick / grinning, saying, “you’re going to have to go through me.” / nobody likes an ugly girl with a mouth full of words / so you learn to swallow them / be prettier, shinier, smoother / show them a piece of glass instead of dagger / lie in wait to turn the tables because you still remember / what it’s like to be sixteen and forced to look at your body as a liability / what it’s like to be sixteen and told your anger is embarrassing / just another teenage phase
xavier thomas May 2023
She wanna know my routine
And if my story’s clean
She wanna know what I’m doin’
And if I cheat
She says it’s all intentional
It’s killing me
I care about her heart & soul
But she’s not for me

You know we do a lot of back & forth
You know the moments been high, then really low
I unknowingly been guilt tripping myself
You know you accuse me fast like a pro
You know you have lack of trust in me
You know you treat me cold and that’s really cold
Those DMs, you were choosing me
You know at a time you were my Queen

You know you my brown sugar sweet maple
Know when I chose you, I admire your taste that’s natural
Know starting over isn’t the plan I want with someone else though
You were my type that I wanted to come home to

I gave you more hoping to see you at peace
I believe in your promise for many reasons
It’s hard to love a woman when you’re on the defense
Being reminded is one of many reasons why I’m leaving
photovoltaic May 2021
hide myself in my home territory
my castle, palace, defending me from outside threats
bury my sadness beneath friendly banter
inside jokes, my family i made in this virtual space

but the one i long for isn't here anymore-
"sorry, our princess in in another castle"
someone i can tell secrets to, someone i can be real with
let go of the mask of comedian and spill an ocean of tears

and the cracks in the foundations and walls are showing through.
everyone is broken here, hiding their sadness with laughter
we're supposed to be a family,
but we can't show weakness to each other

dms are always open, we say
but once we spill just a single bucket of that ocean
everything online can be screenshotted.
my discord server is full of happy memories, until you realise the community there is merely hiding tears
title is the name of it
techno, george, antfrost, bad.. sorry.
xavier thomas May 2023
She wanna know my routine
And if my story’s clean
She wanna know what I’m doin’
And if I cheat
She says it’s all intentional
It’s killing me
I care about her heart & soul
But she’s not for me

You know we do a lot of back & forth
You know the moments been high, then really low
I unknowingly been guilt tripping myself
You know you accuse me fast like a pro
You know you have lack of trust in me
You know you treat me cold and that’s really cold
Those DMs, you were choosing me
You know at a time you were my Queen

I wanna ask you somethin, ask you somethin before I go.
What’s with the double-standards being in your favor for?
Anything said or done is a problem, it’s hysterical
And the more I think about it, it’s just getting old
I walked away quietly , thought we could build some trust
Since we’re separated , I won’t hit you up
We can find some peace from each other with no rush
Maybe someday time can change the
narrative between us
JustChloe Jun 2016
I dont understand him
one second he loves me
and the next
the next
well the next girl is already in his DMs
and I'm left as nothing

I dont understand her
she smiles at all I say
yet cries when shes alone
pretend she has no one
yet its my heart she owns

I dont understand anything
its to complicated for me
I can't discuss spatial topics
because I'm not open minded enough see

I dont get it
I dont get anything
thyreez-thy Jul 2023
Your presence alured me
Your answer assured me
Yet I lay alone in regret
This feeling consumes me
Your signals confuse me
Why love me, then one day forget I exist?

Opening your Dms, haven't seen you since
Hanging out with Peter while I wash away my sins
Tell me where you've been
Messages left on seen

Spoke to your own mother, neither does she know
Said he's "just your bro"
Although we never went to ferris wheels
You never asked how that would make me feel

And yet, when we talk, it's your eyes
And your voice that sends me to the skies
So answer me why, can't you reply to this guy?

That guy referring to me, don't you see?
When I confessed to you, my conquest turned into a goal
And your soul, intertwined with mine
And interventions so divine

And although, i don't know what your doing
Im assured your just, taking your time to reply
Tell me then, oh why? Oh why?
Why do I send the 3rd follow up question
To no avail, I lose motivation

Those kisses on my cheeks leave me lonely in my sheets
As I cry to see your feats, while i lay here in defeat

And yet once in a while you reasure me
As I choose to endure
This same love used to cure me
Now it leaves me in the dust

"Just,reply whenever" i throw the phone to the floor
Can't take this anymore
My mother knocking on the door
I hold back the tears as I fear her ears hear
"Im busy" wrenching as im drenching my eyes
I despise you, want to cut ties with you
But the dreams I have tell me that there's hope if I keep this broken point of view

Do you hate me? Why date me? Then ignore me like the plague?
Am I such a burden than you refuse us having an exchange?
I regret to inform you, your next reply changes nothing
This isn't immaturity, this isn't me fussing

Im typing this all, deleting and retyping
Must be tiresome, reading an overhyped essay
I digress, I regret that I confessed
I can't take back when I said that you looked hot in that dress

So forgive me, but I've spiritually broken up
As you mentally have
Even ground
Without a sound
We go our separate ways
A random poem I wrote, decided to alter it and this came out. Not sure how to feel about it.
I'm not being nice to get laid
I'm not being nice to get paid
I'm being nice because that's what I should be
A beautiful girl being nice to me
Doesn't mean she wants me
Ninety nine point nine percent of them don't
If she has a boyfriend, stealing her away I won't
If she wants to be my friend, let me meet her boyfriend too
I want people to know what I'm try to do
I'm not nice because I want something
I'm nice because I can.
If you have your doubt's I understand, but just know I won't reprimand
There won't be any flirty DMs
If any messages, you can monitor
Just so you can trust me
Phone is always empty unless its family and friends
Maybe a single lady
Nothing shady
Don't get it twisted
I see plenty of fine women
But as soon as I see they have boyfriends or I find out they do
I note in my mind that they're off limits and friendship shall remain
Or flirting, I will definitely refrain
Love I'd be happy to obtain
But I know in my brain
That I'm nice
Because that's who I want to be.
Nice.
People mistaken my kindness way too often. Some people think I'm trying to get in a girl's pants by being nice and nothing makes me more angry.
Nikkipopgun69 Mar 2021
Out
I tent to delete messages I type out
And think no I can’t send that.
Thinking are you in love with them?
Or just thought of them?

Going in and out of Dms thinking this is just a joke.
I can mess everything up within 5 minutes.
As I watch every second of the day go by getting either left on delivered or seen?
I should just scream I’m out. I can’t do it anymore.

But I like to watch the jealously of someone else being jealous of things I’m doing.
By calling me out on things all the time and trying to copy my behaviour...
Girl I won’t even bother trying to shoot your shot.

I just want to spill the tea on your behaviour
But I don’t wanna come across being a *****.
If only you left me out of your little rant
I wouldn’t be thinking of that. I just want to be left alone.

Yes I may like the same guy you do.
But don’t involve me when I haven’t done anything. Like I’m over and out.
abby Jan 2020
What is it about you
That leaves me with a smile
That leaves me thinking about you
Even when i shouldn’t
Even when im busy
What is it about you
That has me checking my dms constantly
Waiting for you
And when the text arrives the change in my face
My attitude
Is instant
What is it about you
That makes me check our work schedule to make sure we have the same shift
Check to make sure ill get to see you
To talk to you
What is it about you
Well, i think i know
It's the smile on your face after you say something mean to me
Not meaning it, never meaning it
Saying it to get a reaction from me
One you know youll get
It's the way you talk to kids
The way you answer their questions no matter how stupid
It's the way you drop random **** into our conversations
It's “it's kinda what i like about you” hurled into dms
It's the way i know i shouldnt but i still do
I love you.  



For the flowers on my bedside.

And the cat videos in my DMs.
My skills be swift as a meteor welcome to the tour
Of Yosef ******* rhymes galore left ya sore
Mentality couldn't handle my lyrical gore
From the sky ceiling to the earth floor
I'm makin' splits like lightening fast and frightening
Even lost spirits got the reciting cuz I'm hypin'
Up the baddest brews sip only a few
Still breakin' crews like news worldwide views
Who could do what I do got the power of Goku
And you be sweet as that purple fool in Ginu
Force forget the source took a spiritual course
Once my brain went into REMS registered my consciousness
Like DMs
See him he ain't as intellectual as Eye
Still got curtains over his eyes beat mesmerize
So much so your pours open from the temperature rise
Know wise guys who demise fakers running around with brokers mentality enterprise
I realize I'm aboriginal and so you are you
Well if you was enslaved too?
The system cuz they love to lynch 'em
You know em' the color I'm talking about
But everybody loves to dismiss about
But the truth is lifting veil while tappin' nails
On the table scared of us breaking the sable
See me I'm just an average dude sike I'm a successors
To MF Doom Whoaaa

While the enemies pistol is shootin'
and the lobbyist still lootin"
Our everyday presence wake up and smell the war incense
See the love to keep fear intense with immense
Nonesense then ask us to repent for the lent
They left on others nations filled with color
Well? It seems like they only attack people similar to Black
But now that you have the facts lets
Get the bumpin' back on track
No locos or rail roads just a dirt road leading the way
To where their souls got taken away
To the crossroads along with skulls and bones
Stolen legacy a representation of brutal democracy
But somehow the black man was made the enemy?
Hidden in the Vatican Rome I'm all alone
Searchin' for destiny but somehow she finds me
Sittin' in the cemetery park with the Buddha sparks
I can't see nothing like an atom to quark
I'm science undefined rewind back to my timeline
Royal ya highness I'm the highest dynasty baby made from the finest Hard fro me to digest
all this knowledge But they stay with ******* stress test oh I guess?
1
Fails to realize the momentousness of the ordeal. Syntax means nothing. Delineations weak. It is all obsolescence, this one. This thing that has no name. This agreed-upon assault of objects. Its loose fizz into the air. Buildings without balconies, or balconies without height – a plunge will mean that there is only little ache left to wring out of some futurity. Arrange the furniture, you said. Take pictures of the sullen victory right after. There is no place in there but only spacious silence. Like meat before it goes into the melting ***. Like light before it reaches its tippling point. Hence, let us both agree to this once again. An end. A limit has been reached. In most days you say nothing. I wait – concealed, overwrought with time’s unloosenings. I do no waiting at all. I do wait at all – this made moment is your new retreat.

2
This is an old woe with a new name. I ask you things, you answer me endless. Endless as in quiet is infinite. There are so many places in this world fat with stillness. Feelings flatten and fall at last, here, its exoskeleton. Keep it in your drawer with your DMs. To make a metaphor out of you means I acknowledge your disappearance. To keep mum about it means I take it inside me, deeper and deeper. Do you dream of fish now? Or waves? Or the undertow you take with you, dragged in miles of feet through dunes of sand? I ask you again, and you show no signs of being uninhabited. Although there is sometimes the warmth of pressing sheens, you take them as the passing of buses – you emphasize the waning. Although this has been written, there isn’t so much writing done here. If I could be abject like say, a washrag in your home, there would be little difference made.

3
To keep myself intent is declaration. To quote otherwise the world that you breathe in, simply suppression. It is much imaginable that way, much more attainable, resolute and quick with sense. A new kind of wailing. What I want, I destroy by earnest regard. There is a paradoxical way to cultivate this thing: and it is to leave it there, thriving in a space meant to contain it, alone. Nothing will be retained – it will always be one, and never two. You believed me. I asked you again. Your answer compressed everything to shadow.
Arduino Mar 2019
I hate the rain
...
..
.
  .
.
   .
.
It creates puddles and forces me to see my reflection

My head tends to hang low, eyelids carrying the weight of my regrets..
Head in smoke clouds from burning forests
Thunder in my mind, lighting the dark with it's temporary rumble and powering the deprecation machines

ah yes the DMs
.

Whirlwinds pick up old headlines
Tumbling and rolling inside my head


What's new, tell me something different


I hold a forbidden box

Don't look inside or I might be embarrassed



Don't look inside or you might be annoyed



You might be scared
You might feel uncomfortable
You might like it

But this box is supposed to remain shut.

It's had enough rain inside it
And you shouldn't have to swim in this ocean of misery

I tried to build a floating home from these broken pieces

But it's just too much

You'd be better off getting in a makeshift ship and manually paddling away


Who could blame you













This island is remote for a reason









Covered in land mines and emotional traps

Don't get caught, lest you flood this small patch of ground further

My lips barely touch the surface


I long for that kiss, help me breath again
Since that door slammed
I been a ram
Running through *****
Like Todd Gurley
Rocking Hurley
And traveling worldly
Yet I still remember your giggle
When Cardi would wiggle
Next to offset like a fiddle
Being played but the riddle
Where Corey Smith came from?
I thought you liked ****** dark as ***
Ok I get it upgrade and get a six S
I’m going to the supreme alphabet like SZA
Success
More like isosceles mess
But I still wish you best

I been in your dms
To see what you say
If I type “duck me?”
And you reply “Lick before you see
DM
plenitude steps taken in those
    DMs. my hands in the tense wind

are two hounds in a ***-lock.
somnambulate if you may, in the pretense of this
   grotesquerie. sing to me, you might, lax in tune
and foreboding by consent.

on the floor now, aslant, like two dogs
   waiting in servitude,
  the detritus of shedding – outside to no windows,
I perceive an elongated white of moon.

you must have hurt the world
with your darling feet.
carrying the night, deciphered from above,
whose distance is this that switches
to impact?

from the look of your face in the drone
   of sleep,
I doubt my presence

but when the radio of dream soon dies
and your breath ****** out of you
like a vacated city,

the undulant breath, a fair warning
and myself simply, an aftermath.
Tafuta Atarashī Nov 2023
12 am.
I ghost write in your dms.
The hidden side of me
Comes out to speak
Descriptions of soft weekends.
Fantastical phantom words
That weave together our beginnings
We balance on a lie
If anyone found out we'd end
So
Delete the messages
Or press unsend.
Solely between us
Our secret sins.
Srujani Jan 2022
absurd how life's turning into Instagram
flashbacks achieved in heart
overriding from delete
excite to show smiles out
baring painful dms in quite
long-distance short
will for reels of impermanent
everyday searching to deal with a story
and expecting a life of no worry!
#ig

— The End —