Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
m Oct 2017
We don’t use diaries anymore -
those are meant for secrets,
and we have none.
We let them spill out of our bodies,
and pour onto blank white sheets.
We swear it’s the only way
we are going to heal.

We turn our pain into poetry.
Anything that hurts this much
has to mean
And even though we are desperate
for anyone to listen,
our language is in the letters
that we will never send.

We romanticize pain like it’s the
only lover we will ever know.
Love is our god and we are each our own devils.
Too fragile for this world,
ceremoniously destroying ourselves
before anyone else can do it for us.
Yet we still can’t understand why we’re so broken.
Tanya Feb 7
I’ve always been mindful of
the food that enters my body.

I should have read the label
before consuming Your lies.

Jarene Oct 2018
all i want
is to be
wrapped up in your hoodie
with your arms around me
Kaitlyn Nov 2017
A rush of blood to the head
The excitement of dread
Do we yearn for the reasons we bled?

To be free from reality
Can't see your mortality
It's no surprise
Devils love hospitality

Nobody watches him slide through the door
You give him everything yet he somehow wants more
Let him tear up the carpet
The curtains
The floor

That was the last time

Every time
You swore

Ominous Mar 2015
I've become a shell
of bittersweet memories &
an emptiness
that weighs much more
than I can bear.
nosipho khanyile Jul 2018
habits are a different form of story telling

tell a good story.
there can lurk
a mighty danger
in romanticizing in
memory that which
merely was ******
one of my worst tendencies.
Carter Ginter Feb 2014
Do you ever feel like forgetting everyone?
Just throwing every friend away like it's nothing?
Often it seems as though I'm nothing to them
So why not be just that?
***** being a nice person
***** everyone taking you for granted
And just do what's best for yourself for once.
Why should i feel like this?
I guess once i can't do anything for someone anymore
It seems the time to move on and let them forget.
I feel as though i am nothing
And it seems they feel the same
So why stick around.
gracie Nov 2018
You fell in love with my hair
and I fell in love with how easily
I could cut it off.
to JW
Obassi Bholai Dec 2018
I tend to do this unforgiving
method of maddness when it comes to writing
I'll start and stop, repeating onto new work
unfinishing the last.

incomplete as each piece may be,
the brain is scattered
lost and afraid, it'll never feel the same way.
connected to what new beginnings
may be.
B L Jul 2018
The difference between actions and habits,
     is often measured by the person you're asking.  
One bump, one line, one half ounce...
All shared by people you don't even give a **** about.

These chemicals make me sick --
              Limitless...Why quit?
              When it's only ten bucks for a hit like this?
Even Jesus Christ would have gotten addicted,
              if drugs in his day were half this good.

"Yeah, I'm smashed -- but I promise I can drive fine."
      Walk and push the limits of a real fine line...
If I don't **** myself, or someone else... I'm happy.
       Stare death in his eyes, wink, and start laughing.

Gasping as I swerve lanes --
Stay safe, get paid. Mundane daily.
Living a-live.. Eat. Sleep. Dream. Get laid.  
Chase feelings.

           Please, just feel me now.
                                    You know me, right?

           Please, just feel me now.
                                    You love me, right?

I want to melt with you -- let our souls collide...
Dissolve the boundaries between students and teachers.
        To bridge the gap in the great divide
        No secrets between us -- bleed into the speakers.

Feel the air in your chest, and ask God for a reason...
To stay or leave Him.
He makes excuses...

                                                     ­      ... Believe Him.
mlk Sep 3
habits are hard to break/
and the effort and time it takes/
to break the loop your brain has subconsciously traced/
are far more than the time it took for the habit to form in the first place
for me, all habits die hard
Noah Sholler Nov 2018
The smoke has cleared
It’s worse than I feared
I don’t like what I see
If not smoke then line the drinks

Couldn’t tell you the last time
I remember everything clearly
Just being stuck in this downward line
The thought of sobriety scares me

I don’t like what I see
In sobriety I see me
I don’t like the world
Might as well call us the psych ward
Brie Pizzi Sep 2018
If you look through my poems it tells the same story
over and over again.



you'd think I'd be tired of it by now
or at least enough to put an end to it.

It's because I have fallen into the habit of not letting my brain process things.
When I get hurt
I have a day or two of wallowing
and then I refuse to let myself get like that again.

I used to think that was healthier.
Blocking everything out.

but to this day...

if you bring up my high school boyfriend
I block out the fact that I envisioned my entire future with him and it still hurts thinking that it won't happen.

if you bring up my college boyfriend
I block out the fact that I was so irrevocably in love with him to ever even want to put an end to the toxicity.

I block out the fact that my inability to love again is because I have already given all of my love out and I feel as though I have nothing left to give. Or maybe it's because as much as I want to experience love again I turn down any opportunity of it because of my pure fear of it not working.

Writing helps
for however long it takes me to write that day
I allow myself to not block everything out
to take down the barrier temporarily
and to feel

They say it takes 21 days to break a habit

it has been 3 years.








Carmelina Jan 21
I’ll whisper in your ear.
Tell you all the things you want to hear.
Sweet nothings.

Last for never.

No commitment from the start.
Your whole world is falling apart.
Jealousy leads to desperately.

You force your way in.
Push and shove.
Say words you don’t mean.

But my love

Has made you into a fein.
You crave my soft hands
And my simple touch.

Screaming at me
“Is that too much”

So I’ll give you what wish.
My very own special kiss.
Caress your hips.
Make love
Though my fingertips.

I’ll put you in that place.
That’ll have you wanting
More. You’ll call out my name.
Thinking you’ve  scored.

When morning comes.
I’ll still be walking
That door.
You’ll be left.
With love me knots.

A love that was once yours.
Is now being forgot.
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
Nathan Cross Dec 2014
Self destructive habits,
I'm broken, but I manage,
to destroy every foundation,
before it ever happens.

kaitlyn joy May 21
A rush of blood to the head
The excitement of dread
Do we yearn for the reasons we bled?

To be free from reality
Can't see your mortality
It's no surprise
The devil loves hospitality

Nobody watches him slide through the door
You give him everything yet he somehow wants more
Let him tear up the carpet
The curtains
The floor

That was the last time

Every time
You swore
"Are you okay?" your estranged bestfriend asks me,
lately he's been asking that question as frequent as how I mentally count all the jeepney stops it takes to get to your street– I have long ago shrugged off the thought of how many girls or who was the one girl who had done this before me,if they always knocked on your door on time,if that made them better than me and if that made me less for you–
dodging a bullet might have been an easier task than dodging his concerns, I'm bad at lying so I don't know if he's as oblivious as he claims he is or if he,too, has grown exhausted of all of my unreasonable tears,
I tell him I'm okay,we're okay
despite what lengthy explanation would follow, I would always assure him I'm okay
I repeat it to him like a mantra–if I say it enough,maybe it had to come true someday
I don't tell him about how I started sleeping with the lights on again because trying to find peace in the darkness feels too much like trying to reach for you in the pitch black vacany of your room,
I don't tell him about how,these days I purposely wear myself out to the bone so that at night I'd be too **** tired to think, to think about your eyes, how I knew that at some point they looked at me in hopes of catching a glimpse of another one that had you,how they used to look at me with affection,and how now they just meet mine blankly whenever I would ask you for reassurance
he doesn't know I wear your hoodie to bed,and I'd rather not tell him how it now smells of my tears and pathetic pleas, as if somehow you would feel me crumbling down beneath you whenever I'd beg your ghost in my sleep to please ******* stay
I don't mention about the bottles of poison I have kissed,in search for your lips and how I hate cigaretttes but I've been considering smoking myself to death–it's the one thing you can't quit after all,maybe if my bloodstream starts to run on nicotine I'd understand how you felt,I'd finally be enlightened how you can be so attached to things that keep on killing you while you're willing to let the things that try so hard to be good for you just slip past your hands,
maybe it could make me understand all the trails of why's and how's you've left unanswered the very first time you replied "it's up to you" when I asked you if you wanted me to hung up the phone,
and of course,he'll never know how I struggled to get on my feet after that,with the alcohol buzzing in my blood, my frail legs dragging myself towards the end of the asphalt road,desperate to see lights and people and vehicles headed somewhere other than this godforsaken place,my friend's boyfriend kept telling me I'm too drunk I'm no longer myself,
I waved the finger in front of him because I was sober and I was very much still myself,I was sober enough to know that I loved you too much and that I wanted you still,I was sober enough to know that all I wanted was to run to you to the other side of the city but I know I'm not allowed to,I was sober enough to ask myself how did I become this girl,I was sober enough to recognize my faults, I couldn't blame you if I've turned into a trainwreck,I knew it would be wrong to ask you to save me when I know you could barely save yourself but for a moment I believed you could help me hold the pieces in place so please don't leave, I'll be anything you want,I'll be anything you need
your bestfriend doesn't hear half of my pleas,I never answer him in total honesty anyway,maybe I'm afraid he'd see how low I may have sunk,maybe it's because don't want the words to fall out his mouth,I don't want him to be the one that asks me that question at the end of the day because I'm used to answering that question with," I'm not okay but I will be because you're here and I love you"
what did I become
Penmann Jun 7
I ran crying the last 2 miles.
When i did sports, i always smiled.
My team never made me sad.
When i lost at sports, i'd just quit the game.

It didn't feel bad.

I can't just quit when i run. I have to go on.
Push my limits.
I do it for fun.
Screaming every step i cry,
i can't think of a better way to say what i'm doing the last few days
William Murray Dec 2018
I drink a lot
Different drinks for different reasons
Different times, and different seasons.
I like wine when I want to smile
whiskey when I wish to sleep
Gin for the times I wish to forget all the dark secrets I keep.
Some nights I want to die, that’s when tequila steps in
And beer when I want to be alone with my friends.
I drink a lot
Sometimes to no end.
I drink so that I have no money to spend.
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
Next page