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bulletcookie Jul 2016
Their faces distorted
while bodies contorted
soon are deported
transported to hell

Painted dysfunctional
classic untouchable
labeled as fractional
migrant they dwell

Pharaoh's adorn
pharos do warn
these masses forlorn
narrow politics swell

homogeneity
sprung from Greek deity
democracy with fealty
a perfect union knell

-cec
Breeze-Mist Sep 2016
Always follow your dreams
Even if they involve
Lions
Elephants
Motorcycles
Flying through the air
Meeting an alternate version of yourself
Talking to invisible creatures
Throwing pie at people
Interpretive dance
Singing in nonexistent languages
Walking on the celing
Contortions
Swallowing fire and blades
Leotards
Hoopskirts
Facepaint
Masks
Or flashing lights

Because in the end
When other people see it
They'll either laugh with you
Or stare, breathless and in awe
Kyle Kulseth Mar 2015
Settle down
I'm sinking in
     to this dingy motel tub.
Stain the water
     with the paint
from my sardonic, smiling face
now, babe, I got a flower in my hatband and
a sloshing bottle in my white gloved hand.
     Do you think we'll still be laughing
                              in the morning...?

Blinking lights and bleary eyes
in a neon wash for a bloodshot lifetime,
and a swallow
     is all I wanna take.

     Besides, I'm still holding the bag.

Puddle up
pull the plug
     colors circle 'round the drain
Pollute the night
     with a laugh
from inside this facepaint bath.
And, babe, I been swirled 'round the world's full glass
and, for a bit, I guess, it was a helluva gas
but, ya know,
                  nobody makes it in the end...
                  
                  so where's the joke end or begin?

Reddened nose and ***** jokes.
Life's a vacation, I'm a pig in a poke
and a mouthful
     is all I need to take...

     We all get left holding the bag.
David Jul 2015
'be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harsh battle'

David Wakeman, 20, thin, pale and dark haired. He has no particular style and doesn't look like he could really fit in with any group of people in particular, but at the same time, wouldn't look too suspicious with among a group. A constant look of desperation plagues his eyes. He looks as though his face would appear in the news in a few months for shooting up a school or blowing up a public building.

david is shown driving down a stretch of road, snow covered everywhere, crazy eyed

Some people are meant to be alone in this life, and I am one of those people. I no longer wish to pretend otherwise. I now know what has to be done.

The sounds of ******* haunt the hallways outside of the tacky, run down hostel where they both lay. She is lying on the edge of the bed.
The sheets are creased. There are cracks on the wall.
But for 3 euros a night, you can't complain.
She lies there, still; staring blankly at the ceiling. Her short robotic breaths are the only life seen.
He eagerly moves close to her, but for the life of him, cannot touch her. His unsure attempts at moving his arm over her are prevented by a sudden urge to break into tears.
Finally, his hand places itself over hers.
She is cold.
"Did anything change?" he says, afraid of the answer.
There is a pause. It might've been a few seconds or half an hour.
"No." Speaking so quietly, barely audible to him.
He is about to say something, but he catches the micro-expression that followed her reply.
A sigh.
He becomes impatient,
"Then kiss me." he blurts out, clumsily.
It sounded better in his head.
A deep exhale and an almost exaggerated look of contempt washes over her tired face. She puts her hand to her face, failing to cover up her outburst of honesty, pretending to clean out something from her spotless, green eyes.
She quickly moves her face closer to his, with her eyes closed, and she puckers her lips in such a way that suggests she'd rather be dead.
His eyes are open, and now he is the one who is lifeless.
"What?" She says, breaking the awkward seconds of silence.

Silent seconds are followed by silent minutes, and now they are sitting up on the head of the bed, watching the old, fat TV that hangs from the filthy wall. Something is  playing but he can't understand the language.
'Pedifilios' is the only word that seems familiar.
She is smoking another cigarette.
The faint sounds of her mouth blowing out the smoke, are telling him all he needs to know.
She loves her ******* cigarettes, he thinks to himself.
She grabs the worn out ashtray that sits on the side of the bed, and goes to put it out.
"Here, let me get that" he says, gentlemenly, and snatches her  it out of her hand, then puts it out into the back of his other hand.
The pain doesn't make him feel any more alive.
" There you go," the cigarrettes crumbles into ashes over his hand and he pushes the ashes into the ash tray, then looks at her.
Her expression is a weird mix of diisgust and fear.

Minutes turn back into seconds and the sound of her footsteps are the last thing he hears from her, just before the slamming of the door.

Chapter 2:

Two bloodshot eyes scan the aisles and shelves, looking for the gluten free bread. It wasn't in the bread aisle.
Who the hell buys gluten free bread?
He contemplates appraoching one of his coworkers and asking her if she knows, but she is far too pretty for him to talk to.
Besides, he's been here 4 weeks now and wants to make it seem like he actually has a clue about what he's doing.
Afterall, he had already convinced his then potential manager,Chris,  that being a 'personal shopper' was in fact his dream job, and that this very supermarket was his dream place to work.
He always was a good liar.
He's so good because for a little while he manages to convince himself.
'Working hard David?"
****.
with Chris you could never tell if he was ******* or beingplayful.
"Always!" David shouts back, then picking a random item off the shelf and placing it into the basket, then nodding at Chris with a look of false sincerity.

(David is shown sitting in the living room, the light emenating from the TV appears to hurt his eyes, and he is slumped back on the coach, clearly worn out. he is flicking through late night informercials, on the coffee table in front of him there are numerous energy drinks seen empty.)
Davids thoughts: The living room is where I come to when I cant sleep. It's more of a dying room, really.

(David continues to flick through channels before stopping for a second on a ****** phone-in show (like babestation). He flicks back through the channels again)

(The scene cuts to a few hours later, with daylight seeping through the curtains and David sat in essentially the same position except he has fallen asleep, with remote still in hand. It's time for work)

watch alarm rings.....

'You coming out with the lads on friday dave?
He always wondered why people tried to talk to him in the middle of the set.
He places the barbel down onto the rack.
'With who?'' He asks,
"Me, sam, jack, carl and"
"and?"
"and Bill. Yeah. bill"
David's face changes as if suddenly remembering something
"Oh, did you say friday? I cant make it. I'm doing a thing with..."
With?
"with the family"
His friend looks as if he was expecting this anwer,
"no worries lad."

"qeue sad music"
David sits in his room, and is looking for something.
Upon rummaging through his things he pulls out a drawing, it's of a girl, he looks at it and a short shot of the girl from the beginning of the movie is shown, then it cuts back to him, stressed looking, and he shove the drawing into a red travel case that sits under the bed, as though he can't stand to see it but at the same time doesn't want to get rid of it. The case still has its travel ticket on.
He pulls a notebook from under some wires in his drawer, and begins to write.

'poem read accompanied by scenes of davids life'
'poem is interrupted by a knock on the door.

-dave is approached by someone in the gym telling him he has a great body, and that people would pay to see it. looks into 'gay4pay' and ends up actually going on a site and doing a cam show before aborting the whole thing-

scene with mum sat with the missionairies 'mum we need to talk' mum seems uncaring and cold, later on they talk
'Whats the probem dave? do you need money'
'No mum, it's just that'
'if youre struggling for cash just tell me, you can always take out a loan and-'
'No. mum. its not about money'
'then what is it?'
As David began to speak, his vocal chords failed him. He was walking into a 20 year old wall that he just couldnt get over.
'It's just that..'
'Yes?'
'I'm not happy. Mum.'
'Oh, well we all feel that way sometimes son' brushing it off in her famous way.
'No, this is different. I'm really depressed. Well, it's'
Depression wasn't the right word, he thought. Depression was an overused and futile term, it had become synonymous with sadness, and this wasn't just sadness; he had felt sadness many times, and this certainly wasnt that.
'it's?' she says, interrupting his inner verbiage.
He looks at her, knowing full well that this entire conversation has meant nothing.
'Look Dave,' she starts again with her 'mother' act, 'if you think that youre responsible for the divorce, just know that it was always going to happen anyway. It was just a matter of oppurtunity.'
What the **** is she talking about?
'Your dad and I never really had a-'
'No,' he says, cutting her off before she has a chance to justify the divorce again.
He was sick of the endless reasons and justifications.
'It's not about that.'
'well, what else could it be about?'
Because the whole world revolves around her and her divorce.
'Nevermind, it's nothing, really.'
She smiles, happy she doesn't have to act like she cares anymore.
'We all feel like that sometimes, like you say.'

He was starting to think that maybe he needed to see a therapist. Until this point he had always been confident in his own abilkity to reflect, introspect, and deal with his own issues himself, and he had alwas been skeptical of people who st in chairs and tried to prescribe you things; but this was beginning to be too much for him to handle. He felt he needed to be eevalutated, that he was losing his grip of his own life.
scene with therapist, coldly looking at her papers, davids desperate face searches for answers in her countenance.
'Right, Mr. wakeman.'
Hope. There is hope.
'I have you down for a prescription of 50mg of lithium, 250mg of benzedrin every week. I'll see you back here on thursday and we'll discuess your', she stops to see his face totally destroyed
'to discuss your.. issues'
David walks home like the scene of travis walking to see betsy at the theatre, something in his face just says that he knows that this story isnt going to end well. and that terrible things are on the way.

'Drugs, drugs, drugs,' david writes, 'theres a drug for everything in this world. drugs to make you numb, drugs to make you dumb, and ones which make you love everyone and see leprochauns and jellyfish driving cars, though those are the illegal ones.'

'Dave ya sisters here!' says his mum.

Scene where dave meets his sister and has coversation, on her way out,
she pulls out a red napkin and holds it like they do in bull fights, david looks slightly confused and smiles, she says 'dont be the bull!'

scene cuts to dave watching a bull fight on tv, where the bull kills the humans. david laughs to himself as the bull chaes people away. he is eating peanut butter on its own. Daves mum walks in abruptly and he switches it off.

(divorce is mentioned and the fact that dave caused it is mentioned)

dave trries to approach a girl in his work but it i awkward aand he gets rejected the same way he he rejected going out with his friends 'im doing something witht he family'.

dave comes home and there are arguments or something, so he punches a collage of family photos.

scene cuts t dave in hospital being told the cast  will come off in  4 weeks.
scene where david is trying to do everyday things with one hand, accompanied by happy music, contrasting the despair of the scene.

(An exact copy of the earlier scene is shown where david is up late flicking through late night tv channels, except now he is using only one hand with the remote. David finds himself at the eroitc call in show again, but this time instead of changing the station, he notices the number written in big, pink letters, and the woman manning the phone is obviously not in a call. Davids vision darts from the tv to his mobile phone that sits on the coffee table, he doesnt hestitate too grab the phone. The look on his face shows he is somewhat bracing himself. David dials the number unusually fast, without having to look back at the screen. The phone is being connected)

pre recorded phone message: Hey there naughty boys, you've reached TEASEYTALK phone love station, the sauciest ******* line in thebusiness. Press 1 if you'd li-

(David presses a number without hearing the rest of the message, suggesting he has heard the options before. Davids eyes are fixated on the bored-looking woman on the screen, until she picks up the phone that shes been using as a mock-***** till now, and answers)

Woman on TV: Urite babe? How can I  be of service?

(She speaks in a strong mancunian accent, and provocatively looks into the camera and moves sensually. All the while David looks back, with an expression of almost disgust.)

Woman: Dont be shy love!

David: Sorry. I'm not really a people person

Woman: haha thats alright darling, feel free to just watch me if ya like

(she turns to her side, showing the front of her body to the camera, she rubs her hand over the thin lingerie covering her *****)

David: Do you not feel a bit weird knowing guys are waatching you like this.

Woman: it just turns me on more babycakes

(she maintains her playful act but appears just slightly agitated)

David: I think you're lying.

(again, she starts to rub her hand over her **** and tries to look playful, but is now clearly agitated)

David: I don't think you like this at all.I don't think you wanted this for yourself.

(she snaps quickly and becomes more aggressive in her act, trying to hide her obvious agitation)

woman: I ****** love it babe. If you could feel how wet i was right now I could prove it to ya

Men: do you have a boyfriend?

(she pauses for a second, shocked and unable to hide her uncomfortable feeling. She stalls and grabs a purple heart shaped pillow and changes position. She assumes another playful position but looks bothered in her eyes)

David: how does he feel about this?

(her movements now hault and she looks at the camera with a sad glare(

David: does he even know?

(she bows her head for a moment, before running her hand through her hair, and looking back at the camera with that playful smile again)

woman: do you have a girlfriend?

(she says smugly, making it appear as if she has said some provacative)

camera pans into davids face, his look of slight disgust has eased into one of sad reflection. for a split second, a scene of the girl from the beginning of the movie appears, the scene is light, contrasting the darkness of the room, then the shot of david continues

(davids long silence has create an awkward look from the woman on the TV, she has stopped the provacative movements and briefly gestures to someone off camera. the scene cuts back to david with the phone put down, then it cuts to a shot from the same angle, except its obviously daytime as the light is seeping trhough the curtains and davids watch alarm is ringing again, however unlike before he is wide awake)

Scene where david takes off shirt in the bathroom, revealing his arms, chest, etc, covered in cut marks like tiny cat scratches.

dave gets skinner throughout the movie, the gay4pay scene stops him from working out. contrast scene with self harm marks with the earlier scene he is more athletic and healthier  looking. pants fall off

this s were dave develops the bad thoughts about killing people and ridding the world of bad people. ' i always wanted to make the world a better place'

throughout the movie dave asks his mum if any package has come for him, and that he expects a package.

the underlying theme is waiting for things to come and being patient, and that you dont know whats around the corner. that you know life will  be better but you grow impatient, and its only when you forget about wanting things to change, that it does.

in the movie he either does **** people or he has fantasies about doing it but something stops him (a girl?)

before doing whhatever he feels he needs to, he has a ritualistic session of burning the contents of the travel case, including the travel ticket, a postcard from porto, some drawings, and a carboard cutout of a leopard.) he gives the travel case to a charity shop, a long with all the clothes he has worn in the story up to this final scene, where he is weaing guirella warfare type attire. he puts facepaint on(?) and dumps all his anti depressants

at the end of the movie, when he has forgotten about the package, i arrives, and he opens it, not showing its contents, the camera zooms into the words 'handle with care'
OR
he has done his deed and killed whoever (*******) and now his package has come and it says 'handle with care'. it either sits at the front door or is thrown into some postal van, the irony being i tis not handled with care.
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2016
And like a clown
I painted my face
Bringing about a smile without use of speech or gesture.
The power of love was present
Opening a catalog of different pages.
To the external, nothing changed
But psychologically
I highlighted a certain passage.
Licking behind my bottom teeth in an unseen smile.
Of course my eyes couldn't hide such sensation
Based on observation I remained still
Not knowing how to express sudden emotion.
It was impossible to imitate
Not knowing which way was up
Deciding to open myself further
I smiled
Forgetting the smile I previously painted.
I was seen as a hypocrite in a world outside of my own
Was I truly to blame.
Kyle Kulseth May 2016
You keep shaking at the branches
just like money grows on trees.
I been dealing in these cheap clichés
just like they'll help me leave someday.
And--easy! Easy! Easy.--
We can't let 'em hear us scheming
at the bottom of their hill
while their victories are streaming.

I can still remember days
when sane folks always laid bets on us.
With our mortarboards tilted all smart
and God left sorting filters,
we tilted, tipped all windmills
and we smoked through all opponents.

You'll tell me I once loved you.
I'll reply that, once, I could.
And we'll keep on telling stories
'til our voices clear the woods
and drift on up their hill
and through their windows
to their ears.

I'll tell you you were beautiful.
You were! I ******* swear!
So tell me I was beautiful
and that we can repair
this broken clumsy story
that ****** us all up and brought us here.

Up there atop their hill,
those thieving ******* sip their wine,
while below them, our white facepaint runs.
We plan ahead for better times.

I keep shaking at the branches
as if friendship grows on trees.
Just as though they might accept me,
when the dollars fall with Autumn leaves.
And you been dealing hard in hollow hopes
and flimsy dreams.

But I still think you're beautiful.
So tell me that I'm beautiful.
And then let's clip their flimsy wings.

Those ******* 'crost the town
are eating **** and grinning.
               Cackling,
               orgasming,
while counting out their winnings.

But their music plays too loud
and soon their eardrums will be bleeding.
If they can't hear us breathing, babe,
they'll never hear us scheming.
I'm trying to do a LOT with a LITTLE as far as pacing and meter go, and I think, maybe, I get a little hung up or tripped in a couple places. All in all, though, I think it turned out pretty good. I kinda like it.
Poetria Sep 2017
16 years older
our faces painted over
wasting time to feel the rush
classic self-destruction
still, we are children
older, not different
pretending to be
bigger than the universe
and we are that, we are indeed-

-our facepaint glowing
a multicoloured mixture
in the sunlight now
and our heads are
loosening once again
16 years younger
as clocks chase the future
and we waste our time  
because we still can.
pretty much.
#16
Poetria Mar 2017
We were dancing
on the tables
singing
Katy Perry anthems.

You stabbed me
in my left eye
with some cheap,
sticky paint.

I brought pasta
to the party
but I forgot to
bring the spoons.

We were laughing
at our facepaint
in the ladies room.

I miss you,
but you should know,
I miss everybody else too.

One day
I'm going to leave
this in my rear view.
Here's an old draft I didn't particularly like.
Anonymous Freak Mar 2019
I’m skin deep today.
Only as internal
As facepaint.
Artem Mars Mar 2020
No one calls me smart
They all check my grades
Mockery of the success
Shameful of the less
Trophy for being a disappointment
I try my hardest
Just for the attention
The approval
Is what keeps me going
I want an A
But I’m labeled with a B, C, D, or F
The attention is all wrong
The ridicule
Not reward
Nothing feels retained
I want a place to post
To show I’m more
To feel seen and liked
To see mean and nice
To share what I do with a brush
What I can do with facepaint
See others
Share songs
But it's about **** time
That they see it isn't
The showing to others
That ensured my demise
The help they would give me
The eyes and the ears
To feel seen and heard
The spotlight again
It will shine on my face
As if everyone cared
As if I wasn't so scared
And I would feel cured
But the labels I gain
Seem to be retained
Without a constraint
Of worry and pain
School is no longer about learning, it's about passing
Maniacal Escape Mar 2021
A Sorry sight
With the kung ****
Scales and.
Say it loud. Martial facepaint.
Tea towel set,
For a familiar knife and fork. Like this.
winter Sep 2021
I'm feeling that old theatrical feeling
Where I become a creature in facepaint
A shadow taken form in gowns and robes
and I myself am the echo of footsteps on the stage
I feel that aching feeling
of looking into your eyes and feeling horrible things
like my desires to love and keep you and take you with me
into a place where it is always night
and we live inside the walls and watch the curtains from the side
and we come to life and circle the ghost light
I cannot have you
but we will always be the same
and I will always feel your name
forming at my lips
when I kiss these walls goodnight

— The End —