"lllllll" poems
I can't write so don't expect something decent. Jeeps. If there is one thing in this world I couldn't live without, it would be my jeep. I have a 1998 jeep TJ with a 3.25" lift on 33x12.5x15 BF goodrichs, but that means nothing. The reason I couldn't live with out them is because when I'm driving it I'm free I can go just about anywhere at any time. For most people when the pavement ends, the road is over. For me the roads just getting fun. If I'm having a **** day or I'm feeling depressed I go out and go for a drive. Not one time have I ever been sad when I came back. My jeep cheers me up and allows me to be Independent and let's me let off steam. Nothing can ever replace the calming feelings I get when I drive and if you don't own one you will never know that feeling. In my opinion they are the very best vehicles on the road and as long as you treat them right they will kick *** for the rest of your life. And like I said when I opened I'm a shot writer but I'm just saying what I want to say and I don't need anyone telling me how to do it better because to me the words that come from my mind to the page are perfect in every way.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
GARYYYYYYY LLLLLLL YOU ARE NOW ON TROLL **** STROLLL
WITH ME \=#@\=#@\=#@ JUST CALL ME
MR TROLL/KILLY/ GARY L
YOU HAVE BEEN WELCOMED AND NOW A MEMBER]™[™[™]™]]™[™[™[™[™[™[®FULLLPLEDGER
GARY L //\/\//\/\/\/>/WELCOME KILLER PALLY
ME AND GARY ARE A TEAM
WE WILL **** THE PEDOPHILES
EAT THEIR SPLEEN
UMMWEEE
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
I.
my head was starting to overflow
thoughts and memories
spilling out onto the streets
so I took an eraser to the etchings that littered the cave walls
of my mind and now
it’s a blank canvas
and baby you are no longer
my muse.
ll.
my shoulders were beginning
to ache from years
of carrying the weight
of a lifetime of sadness
so I scrubbed off the blue
of your name and found only gray underneath
and you can imagine my surprise when I learned
there is something worse than pain.
emptyness.
lll.
two arms are not nearly enough
to bear the weight
of hearing you tell me
you don’t love me anymore
so I planted the seeds of your words in my wrists
and when they finally blossomed
the terrain was too tattered to recognize the words that once ****** the life from my very veins
like weeds
and maybe that’s for the best.
llll.
when the bruises began to form
in the places around my waist
you once held onto so tightly
like it meant the difference between life and death
like my hips were the only handles left on Earth and you were afraid to fall in love, I realized bruised lips are not the same thing as tough love.
lllll.
my thighs shrunk everytime I
said no
I’m not hungry, I already ate, I’m fine thanks,
and the bigger the space between
my thighs grew, the better I felt knowing I was making room for you
without realizing
until it was too late that the more area you occupied, the less I had to grow.
I’m wilting.
llllll.
my knees are shaking like
the leaves were
the day you told me you no longer wanted to try and love me
so my calves are swaying and
my toes are curling and these lines twisting around my thighs
are begging
to be
opened .
lllllll.
my wrists are starting to overflow
nightmares and heartbreaks
spilling out onto the streets
so I took a razor to the etchings
that littered the cave walls
of my arms and now
it’s a ****** canvas
and baby you are no longer
my muse.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC