Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Taylor Browne Jun 2011
i’m an experiement

a looking glass dummy

an embalmed corpse

waiting for graduation day

and a snake

waiting for the glass to break
Mitchell May 2015
Have you ever
Sat next to a
Neon yellow-orange pig?
Stared into its black eyes,
Its thick black eye brows,
It's two ******* nostrils surrounded
By that
Neon orange
Skin,
And wondered why the kitten,
Who enters with such
Curiosity and sniffage,
Cares so much at first and then,
Cares so little at all.

Certain men
Are like
This.

Certain women,
Act
Like this.

Certain people
Are meant to make
Certain people
Better people.

We are the building blocks
Of
Eachother, one another, everyone.

And I can't stand
The way my mind thinks and behaves/
Self-desctructs, re-constructs
These visions of illusory
Reality.
I've achieved nothing,
Yet,
I smile at the clouds who've achieved
Everything
By
Molecularly genetic chance.

Aren't we all just mistakes
In the gigantic genome experiement of life?
Accomplishing...something?

You know...I've got a pig roast this Saturday?
You know...I think about moving
And I think about screaming at strangers?
You know...I wonder what it would like to be hit by a
80 mile an hour car?
You know I know that all my peers, all my friends, all
My closest dearest closer than family people
Are utterly miserable with everything and just

WANT TO GET AWAY FROM IT ALL

Exhale

But,

To

Where?

We can't all become
Three million dollar

Junkies,

Can we?

There is no great state
Anymore.
It's broken.

The ideology
Of war
Is
Dead.

Patriotism has turned
The country inward when
All should be
Outward.

But then, you make,
The hair on the neck,
Stand on end.

Be in the scene and see
The small grains of sand atop
Her big toe nail, the sun-reflecting upon the nail,
How its pink shade reminds you of
Cotton candy no, bubblegum, yes,

Bubblegum.

These are the minds
Of formers past.
They've made their trists and tried
Their minds toward
Life that was both meaningful and
Meaningless.

What I wish to do is paint with words,

Our words,

So,

When all is finished,

I can see, without mirror

For a mirrow is a stage and a stage
Is too close, as is, the mirror.

Our age needs distance to affect
Any change.

What we've become,

What we truly are,

From there,

From here so to

Perhaps see,

Where we,

Should go, next.
Striped Sep 2016
When will you stop hurting me?
How much more do i have to take?
Is this an experiement to see what u can make?
The love is there beneath despair but its seeping through the cracks.
When will i stop accepting it?
When will it be enough?

— The End —