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sarathegreat Nov 2018
But why are we so caught up on depending our happiness on others?
why can’t we be happy because we decide to?
We consistently make people our only source of happiness
and we are consistently heartbroken when they let us down...
Vass Mar 24
At night you cry because you're afraid to die.
You wanna drink, get high and savor the blue sky.
Yet every morning you put on a suit and tie,
and live yesterdays lie.
Every change you deny,
you don't even give them a try.
It's time you say goodbye.
Your life is over, the void is nigh.
"All but forgotten, its burnt its space in time. A love that moved like fire and lives it did confine. Spent many nights, that quickly turned into day. wishing  that forever, was something that would stay.. It seems that life has taken back a hold,  and the dream... Its hard to grab it. Never thought my love would be thing, that would turn into  your bad habit. The happiness on your face, ya know,  I can see that you fake it. So open your hands and hold my dead heart... Its yours, just FUCKEN take it! "
KMM Nov 2018
~It's just a habit,
She cant quit,
It's slowly controlling her,
Bit by bit ,

She wants to get better,
She really does,
Everytime she does it,
She feels the buzz,

It's her escape,
A chance to get lost in her place,
She controls the pain,
Her adrenaline begins to race,

Her head becomes fuzzy,
And the room starts to spin,
She shuts off the light,
and deeply breathes within~
Jayne E Jul 2
Bad habit

the moment
you first sprinkled stardust
in my hair
caressed my cheek
the husky morning light
throwing faint shadows
bed sheets scattered
hearts caught
by surprise
then shattered
into shimmering bright
as pre dawn
had me forlorn
lost in your
my tears
kissed away
your tongues mixology
feeding back to me
my tears and my ***
breeding blending
alchemical lust
the birth of
a bad habit
born out of
a good love
this little bird
in your gilded cage
would become
locked out by
your inner rage
as madness descended
four lives upended
fighting the good fight
biting back against the strain
of this bad bad habit
loves first bloom
birds singing
before the sun rose
you tearing down
all my defences
raw desire
the fire the fire the fire
in your *****
becoming my ******
scribing incantations
secret spells
of love
of dreams
of wanting
with your ***
on my belly skin
glistening in the
early morning sun
when did the love
mutate to ownership
passion became obsession
your misbelief
my imagined transgressions
tearing the silk at its seams
then on your knees
begging to
redeem redeem redeem
too many heartbeats too late
the light snuffed out
stuffing the ****
in loves spout
sweet turned bitter now
just spit it all out
loves lamb slaughtered
throat cut and bleeding out
spitting my teeth on the floor
of our house built on 'love'
feeling my jaw crack splinter
under the strong hands
that once held me "safe'
'loved' me
wed me
then bled me
dry of all hope
love hanging
choked on the rope
kicking me
to pieces
and me
kicking this
bad bad habit


J.C. littlebird 03/07/2019
Funny, and not in a haha way, how memories invade our dreams, nightmares a crossover of the two, bitter mixing with sweet....messy breakups, nasty divorce, killing the one you love... Humanity insanity...
Nis Jul 2018
Today I am happy,
today I don't know what to write about.
I think there's a connection,
that I've developed the bad habit
of writing only when I'm depressed.
That's why today
I'm forcing myself to write,
to write more than naughty feelings,
to write about life
and only ocassionally about death.
Is life not worth writing about?
You see, I'm a scientist in mind,
so, naturally, life comes to me as a surprise,
maybe that's why my body was off
by a big margin,
maybe that's why my brain
functions only from time to time.

I digress.
What I ment to say is
that life is so ******* wierd is crazy.
Think about it,
we are pieces of universe,
barely distinguishables from our own selves,
who observe the universe.
Wouldn't bet with those odds,
yet here we are,
and what's more crazy,
we appear to be able to tell
the difference between now and then,
to call ******* on some stories,
we are not *******,
we are alive;
we have memories but we are not them.
We make them.
Our past is but our future,
it just came a little earlier,
let's use its help to be prepared
for what is to come:
Isn't it crazy?
Making a happy poem for a change :D
Tufayl Myburgh Nov 2017
You were so good at that ****.

You truly made me feel like I was special like I was the one.

You made me feel like you really needed me.

I felt as though I was the light of your life, I really did.

For some reason you made it look like you enjoyed every single second I was around like I fulfilled some kind of ****** up desire of yours.

You took everything inside me and burnt it into the ground until there was nothing left, yet, you seemed so okay with that as if it benefit you somehow.

You were at peace with using me and abusing me.

What felt like an eternity of time between us was probably more like seven minutes in real time.

Even after all of that you walked away with regret,

they say it takes 21 days to kick a habit but girl I could see it in your eyes you wished you could have gotten rid of me far sooner.

You got exactly what you wanted from me, and once you were satisfied, you threw me onto the ground and crushed me,

Like a cigarette.
Thanks to an awesome friend of mine who urged me to write this one.
Carina Sep 2018
Trapped in a cage with golden bars of light
Of ancient habit and direful duties;
Below the water crashed into the bight,
The whispering waves baiting with beauties.

But her shadow lurked around the coast,
Dashing her to the beach like drifting wood.
Preventing her from what she wanted the most
To reach new shores from where she stood.

She wanted to travel and sail the open sea
Beyond the shingle, seaweed and shells
Closer to the horizon where the birds flew free
Or to the arenaceous ground in diving bells.

And coming back to where she started
She found her seaside changed since she has parted.
Or did the widening horizon change her perceiving?
For returning was not the same as never leaving.
Dedicated to all those wandering souls who like to seek new horizons, who love travelling and experiencing the world with all its wonderful facets.
I promised myself
after I left work
I'd go home
and take a nap.

That's what I got,
but when I woke up
I felt like I missed my time
and that the moment was gone
like I'd taken all that living
and flushed it down the drain,
if only I could get it back
I'd use this time.

Why I am a stranger to self-love,
and all too familiar with self-hate;
can't I take care of myself
every once in a while?
Teleprompters - The Uncluded
Jane in Jeopardy Dec 2018
How can a wound be identified--
When people only heed tears
but only with blood;
but only to tears
will the eyes bleed.

People can be ignorant--
For their hearts,
may no longer be filled with blood
but rather tears
circulating till they cause
tears deep within.

These tears each person has in life
forms a unique habit
which does not come in free size;
Some will drown in it
before anyone identifies
the wound.
habits = clothes or conduct;  tears = dual meaning
(A Public Service anouncment)


We, the creatures of the night, are the rattlers of chains;
The seekers of magic; the bearers of the flame.

Howling shadows beckon and shimmer with laughter in refrain;
and the screeching darkness holds terror and wonder waiting to be claimed;
In back alley juke joints, shitholes, and diners, down sidestreets and highways, we search for the thing that sparks and ignites us, that dances and delights us, that reminds us that living is more than just work interrupted by sleep; there's excitement, adventure, pleasure, and pain.

The sun burns too bright to see the light which we contain;
yet, in the dark but a spark is as bright as any flame.
Charlotte Ivy Oct 2017
You're a piece of my dad
Sometimes I find him in your laugh
But then your smile goes crooked and your "bugs" act up again
You find clarity for a moment and then your thoughts become distorted
Was the habit to hard to break or did you think the promises I made for you were fake  
You always told me every day to never give up why can you not wake up
Dad, Jake.. ?
What's your name ?
I feel like we're strangers and I feel like your love was fake
You took a piece of my sister's away and for that I'll never forgive you
Can't you see your own ****** mistakes
You're blind and they were right you are a snake
You fried your brains and I'm afraid it's to late
I can't save you unless you want to be saved
I sat down to dinner
and paid for a meal
with money I'd earned
working at Wendy's.

I drank ice-cold sweet
sipped savory cream
ate mouth-watering
and nibbled on fruity

It was a nice meal,
then why did I have
such remorse when
the check came?

I enjoyed myself,
but I couldn't help
feeling like I wasted
my hard earned money.
Dancer in the Dark: Bjork - I've seen it all
Shea Nov 2018
"Crane my neck and scratch my name"
You've drawn too close to me
You see,
You're a drug
I need a hit
A lick or sip
To satisfy my habit
Laugh at it
Or live it
Either way you've---

I need to change
And not blame
My silly problems
I know I've got em'
But no one else needs to know
Cause if they know
They seem to blame
Not the one at fault
But the one playing my game
They forget
Their innocence in all of this
I don't want to hurt anybody
But it seems like I do
If I don't hold it in somehow
Then I will be the one who
Hurt everyone
And that---

I could keep dragging on
I could write a thousand lousy songs
To show you
Cause my actions never
Run the circle
I feel like a liar
Someone you despise or
Like a bug
Or feeding off of you
Like a parasite
I feel I might
Ask if you want me to leave
I know I love you,
But do you love me?
My worried soul
Needs to know--
I did something
I made my grandma
buy me a 20$ book,
that I didn't need,
simply because
I wanted it.
She'd already
bought me
an expensive lunch,
and the only reason
we were in
the bookstore
was to find a gift
for someone else;
I made her
buy one for me.
I felt alarmed
at the cash register,
I knew I should of
left the book on the shelf,
that this trip shouldn't be about
I did it anyway.
It's true
we all want things,
but sometimes
getting more than
we need,
turns people
into tools
for our use.
Bhill Feb 22
Dogs have habits, you bet they do.
They run and play, then eat and poo.

They Sleep all day, zoom, zoom all night.
They bark and bark, at something in sight.

They wait at the window or wait by the door.
To say hello to their people with eyes we adore.

Let's go for walk, they seem to be saying.
Really, oh really, that's my kind of playing!

They love without boundaries, they give the same way.
They are really true family and never, never betray.

Without them we are lost, so much that it hurts.
Pay attention to their habits, life with them, JUST WORKS.

Brian Hill - 2019#42
ryn Feb 2015
People cheat,
people lie

To get ahead
just to get by.

They do it out of deemed necessity
have made it a successful habit.

Some would feel bad,
some wouldn't lose sleep over it.

Some lie to protect...
Some lie to infect...

With little remorse
full blown guilt.

Either way
all they've built.

A lie is an accessory
that most tend to abuse.
A convenient mask
for the **** truth
that most would misuse.

Lies are...
The bane of relationships
Destroyer of trust...
Conveyed by irresponsible lips.

So have I ever lied?
Have I ever desecrated
honesty's pride?
Have I ever wielded it
to save others from harm?
Have I ever employed it
to boost my charm?

No I haven't,
now that's a lie...
Spouted that so easily,
I didn't even need to try...

I am no exception...

I am no saint,
I'm only human
with an ill sense of direction.

I have lied...
How about you?

Search deep inside...
*You know you have too...
My college
has dropped me
for lack of

Being a dropout
by my 21st birthday
was not part of the

Right now
I'm just a guy
with a dead-end

I hope
you read this,
it's my cry for
Staind - Epiphany
They say people can be a creature of habit
But I never saw it quite like that.
I always thought of it as people with creatures,
their habits formed around this being.
They often seem fine,
Harmless in every way,
Little pets that follow the person around.
But my creature was invisible.
I guess it was never invisible,
Just hidden behind my back.
Never to be let out,
Never to be seen,
Never to be pet,
Just hidden out of shame.
This thing wasn't pretty,
Yet it held an illusion of perfectness,
Like a person who had one too many plastic surgeries.
Something that at first glance,
or maybe in the beginning,
Looked so great,
The best pet around.
But after a while,
You notice the things you never did before
The subtle impurities that are placed upon it
In a vain attempt to make it look perfect.
This thing tends to start out small.
Little creatures that can be managed,
out of site,
perfect little monsters.
Then as you tend to them more,
as they feed on your insecurities,
they begin to gain power.
But it happens so slowly that it looks natural,
just a little bit at a time.
Then at some point,
the scale begins to tip.
You try to stop it,
Command it to behave,
But you soon learn that this creature is no longer in your control.
It grows bigger and bigger,
Past the size of you,
And suddenly you are the one being hidden behind it's back
As you become invisible to the world around you.
If you are in this spot,
I implore you to keep fighting.
You see,
This monster's weakness is that it can only fight one at a time.
It can't handle more than one person,
So reach out.
Don't be afraid.
You will find help,
I promise you,
But you have to take that first step.
If you reach out a hand someone will grab it,
and help you fight this monster,
Tearaway this image of perfectness it attempts to reflect.
I won't lie to you,
the fight may not be easy,
but I can tell you this:
Every day, with some help from the people around you,
It gets better.
The monster gets torn down,
Working together,
It begins to lose its control over you.
Until one day,
You wake up,
and there's nothing there.
If you are at this spot, keep fighting.
David Adamson Jul 2016
The story began one night in the dark
when most curious minds were asleep.
Sitting silently, only fingers tapping the keys,

“You tempted me like an empty page,” he wrote,
longing for a response of immediacy
that would fill his mind with more words,
the only thing he took comfort in.

She stepped aside from the voices
at her gathering to read his message.
“Emptiness,” she wrote back, “lives in the mind,
the habit of looking for what’s lost.

There is no zero in nature.
Let me tempt you with fullness instead.
Come and see what I see, and share what is there.”

As she sent the message, she swallowed deeply
knowing that what she offered was not quite a lie
but more of an unfulfilled desire.

“I can give you what I never had,” she thought.
Her mind wandered, filling
with all the ways that only emptiness can.

He wasn’t sure what she was offering him.
Whatever it was, he longed for it.
Her words flooded him with a feeling he couldn’t name.
Love? Desire?  Intoxication? Yes.

As the sun rose, he took no notice of fatigue, thirst, hunger.
He forgot the empty days,
the time spent looking in the mirror,
counting the lost years.
He began again to write.
A collaboration with my friend Candace Smith.
Laine Viv Sep 2014
We have this habit of making homes
out of people who tend
to burn any moment.

And we keep collecting the ashes,
putting them in jars,
hoping to save what little remains.

We made ourselves believe that other people
are remedies; prescribing—injecting ourselves with drugs
that walk and talk and breathe

And I have long since realized that we have seas inside us,
and there are a thousand shipwrecks aching for freedom,
but we hold on to every damaged piece.
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