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September Roses Jun 2018
Why is everything so co.mpli.cated.
        Why is nothing how it should be

Nothing good lasts for ever
well it seems to me like nothing good lasts a ******* second

Everything is
         Everything was good a week ago
    A month ago
Ok maybe not good but better

         Because this ******* life has
        given me the ******* lemons
And although I'm used to ***** lemonade
it's like life still enjoys pelting me with the leftover ones
        I want
    To disappear
Go away
Nobody Sep 2017
First he demanded I force him on the bed.
He said don’t dare relent till he’s fully spent.
So I start by removing all of his clothes,
kiss and bite him all over, so very slow.

Then he makes me bind both his hands tight,
orders a satin scarf to blind his eyes.
Next I gently bite his neck on both sides,
stirred on even more by his ****** cries.

My tongue wants to lick him just where he likes,
he trembles and shakes as I lick him up right.
He’s hard and tasty, I tease him till I’m sore;
**** and stop, he can’t take it, and begs for more.  

My mouth is so warm, he’s slippery wet.
I take it, and smother my throat in the mess;
and after he’s been pushed so close to the edge,
he rapidly pounds my mouth till the end.
Avary Jun 2018
it's another early AM when salt tears splash my face,
they sting, but they are daisies compared to the swords I have endured with you.
it's almost half a year since you took what was not yours to take,
with your mumbled excuses and your dismissive gestures.
i brace myself, the pain looms again, i shout at it to GO AWAY,
the reminder of what you did, but it is a pain that paracetomal will not subside, because the pain is a memory;
the increasing anxiety, the thought of you inside of me when i did not want you to be there.
Peter Garrett Apr 29
Was it true anything you said?
Or that mess was all about
Getting back at your ex?
(Re)Placing me in your bed
And then shutting me out
In a meaningless night of ***
More lines about Claire...
Mark Thompson Nov 2014
Oil paints...what a ******
    My mistake
A spill on canvas
          I wipe and wipe to fix the "inspiration"
Before I know my eyes are fixed and fixed on...nothing

The painting's gone, my over thought of simple things
Has stormed again and taken from me
      That that I saw, and saw as a need

A force so convincing
Has broken,
shock! and gone a splintering

  And now
In wide eyed amazement
I stare at beauty staring back at me
From a chance meant
  To be
A happy accident

A smile

Jo Barber Jun 14
What a laugh!
I looked in her eyes
and saw that she was broken.
No one in this world
ever gets enough love.
We bleed our feelings
and silently beg others for help,
but no one ever comes.
Or if they do,
we smile and nod
and bandage our wounds ourselves,
afraid to be vulnerable,
afraid to be human,
afraid to give others the love we so crave.
s Apr 2015
When I was five my mom taught me how to count to ten.
I liked the number ten
I thought that I could rule the world cause I knew how to count to ten.
I could play hide and seek now
I could make a hopscotch
I could be like my older sister
The number ten made me so happy.
When I was six I went to kindergarten
Counting to ten was baby stuff
But I still liked ten
My kindergarten teacher taught me that counting to ten ten times makes one hundred.
I cried to my mom when I got home
It seemed too complicated
So I kept counting to ten
Life was easier when only numbers one through ten existed.
When I was twelve there was a group of mean girls
Ten of them
I didn't like the number ten
that much anymore.
Cause according to them it was
How much weight I needed to lose (10lbs)
How many of my friends hate me (10)
How high I would score on a test (10%)
I could always hear them coming
all their ten steps in sync
Walking in a V
They were a flock of birds
Getting ready to attack a poor penguin who couldn't fly like them.
When I was sixteen all of the mean girls went to a different school.
I didn't have to be with the ten anymore.
I had to be with myself
I lost 10 lbs
Plus extra
I have no friends now, turns out the ten friends I had really didn't like me.
When I was sixteen boys would line up one through ten
One and two would make me cry
I told three and four that they were a waste of time, they would just hurt me
I gave five a chance
He broke me
The other five didn't get to know me
Even though they tried
They could never really know me
The me who liked only the numbers one through ten.
The me who cries at night remembering the monsters
The me who hates myself
I fake it so well
I put up a wall
Ten bricks up
Ten bricks across
My second grade teacher would have asked me how many bricks I used
But it doesn't really matter anymore
Cause behind that wall I'm self destructing
I wish I only had to count 1-10
This is sloppy but it was shoved in my head had to get it out.
L B Apr 2018
Do I love you?
Do I,

The words have stopped
doubled over on themselves
in pain

In truth
I wouldn't know--
you, Love?
But maybe from a picture
"This is from where the poems come?"

Having never searched your eyes
with mine
nor heard your voice
invoke me

Known your thinking
in any given moment
Nor you, mine

Nor watched your hands
for hints
in expressions

Could you forgive my mess of moments?
the lame that years have left
so slow circles
the lonely artless?

socially inept

I fear
you could not forgive the fear
for so long
left behind

How can you say
you love me?

By what assurance do you

Speak into my void
lifeonLSD Dec 2018
I didn’t hesitate to utter your name
into existence, right next to mine

      I’m still holding onto the same
      breath I took

It never left my body nor
did it cease away

      The awaking of the soul
      while you spoke to me fluently in
      the language of a select few

Forging your lips in figures
only for my eyes to read

      I prayed to forget we belonged
      on earth

To take this leap of air and to
break this curse

      Let us dance at heavens tavern
      dance through sultry vengeance
      of hurt

Hold me, till the last wise has had
its turn

      Opening to us doors looking like
      gates out of this burning mad world
Aby Alvarez Jan 2015
It's been a year since that day
The day that you confessed
The day we started this lovely mess
but don't worry I didn't love you any less

The way we talk to each other til 2 in the morning
The way we squeezes each other's hand every time we're both freezing
The way we let our guard and pride down every time we're fighting
are some of the things that I will never get tired of doing

You do what floats your boat
Someone who thinks twice before he does what he's told
You're like a difficult puzzle to solve
but despite all that, I'll  still love you til the day we're both old.
Happy Anniversay Babe!!! Thank you for the flowers and cake. I love you! :)
Spenser Bennett Apr 2016
O' Miss Fortune, mother of joy
Daughter of Ol' Sorrow
Won't you be my savior?
Won't you call me your boy?

O' Miss Fortune, lover of happenstance
Murderer of Good Father Time
Would you come out to play?
Would you join with Decadence?

O' Mr. Misery, keeper of delights
Warrior of Love's Lost Heart
What could be your destiny?
What could you know of fair fights?

O' Mr. Misery, follower of my shadow
Burden of my shoulders
Won't you let me go home alone?
Won't you let me go?

O' Mother, O' Father
Please can't you see?
Fortune and Misery
Have made a mess of me.
Peter Garrett May 22
I used to believe I loved you
For the beautiful mess you are
But thinking everything through
The truth is I just hated myself
Because you really have to
Be deeply mad at yourself
For loving you
Something about
That Boy
Which makes it impossible
To meet anyone who
Measures up
Lots of fools
Can measure down
Just like him
Is always dumb
And rarely
Dumb luck
That Boy
The most beautiful mess
I've ever encountered
He was A magician.  He punched a hole in my chest without swinging a blow.
Mike Hauser Feb 2015
I've come to the conclusion
That my life's a wreak
Poetry strewn all about
My house the biggest mess

So here I am in the middle of the den
In a pile of poetry on the floor
A desperate man with phone in hand
Since I can't seem to find the door

I call up a Psychic
I call up my Shrink
I call up the local Priest
To ask them what they think

They say there is no hope for me
Through the static on the phone
Right before they all hang up
I hear...boy you're too far gone

So I grab a hold my bootstraps
Pick my own self up
Determined to have this problem licked
With prayers and major luck

Starting in on this poetic clean
One thing that I found
I wrote on just about anything
That I had laying around

There was poetry on party napkins
On Chinese take out meals
Tiny poetry on tiny matchbooks
Even on banana peals

Poetry on the chandelier
Poetry on my cat Floss
Poetry on ***** dishes
I wrote with spaghetti sauce

Poetry on the mirrors
Smiling back at me
Poetry on Seinfeld
Across my T.V. screen

Poetry on the kitchen tile
That's never seen a mop
On the doors going in and out
And places I dare not look

I started cramming it all in boxes
Lining them up and down the halls
Soon had them in every room
3 feet deep and 8 feet tall

I made 15 trips to storage
The biggest one that I could find
Feeling now it's nice and safe
All packed tight, warm and dry

When it all was over
Feeling relief from that major chore
Set down in my den, took out my pen
And started writing more...
Did you just call me ****?
How blind could you be?
Don't you know that I got God inside of me?
Tell me dear....
So, full of pride and so focused on your youthful looks.
How much makeup?
How much pride?
How many people?
Will be at your side,
When you close your eyes for the last time.
Tried to be **** at times myself.
Those ideas blew up in my face.
Got a lot of regret debts
anchored down in the valleys of the wrinkles on my face.
Did you know I used to have abs?
Not anymore.
One day I heard my stomach having a private conversation,
with gravity.
Gravity said, 'Winning!'
Took my abs away.
Gave me arthritis and a fever in its place.
I **** so much.
I swear someone has a gun to my ***.
It is so ****** up,
when the pistol starts to cry and laugh.
I need a walker most of the time.
I guess the only crime I committed was staying alive.
Yeah, I am old.
So, what! I made it this far.
Take your *** on and be thankful for who you are.
You don't know how good you got it.
You can still get around,
Without leaving fun size Hersey bars behind on the ground.
'Hey, old dude, what Hersey bars are you referring to you?  The thing I see behind you are chocolate bars,
With corn toppings.
The old man starts to laugh.
The young lady says, 'Do you mean to tell me that you *******, while you were talking to me this whole time?
The young lady began to puke.
'Baby, I didn't **** on myself. My *** did all the work. I haven't been able to control my bladder for a few months now. Here is a tissue for your mouth though?'
'Did you just hand me your depends?' The young lady said.
'Yep! These Depends never judge me and makes me feel very special.'
The young lady walks away, as she continues to puke.
The old guy says, 'She is so slow. I thought that she would have given me my Depends diaper back.
'Uh oh! What am I going to doo-do in now? That girl stole my Depends!

(C) Copyrighted
A poem on aging.
Kate Jul 23
How'd I find myself here
In July
This winter lasts forever
and colours don't sing to me anymore
I tell the circle of trust
I don't want to 'be'
The sick theme of
Twenty Nineteen

I made promises to myself
that haven't come true
(because of you)
September Roses Jun 2018
You're nervous
A bit of a wreck
But you never fail to smile at yourself when you mess up
As you always do

You're damaged
That much is clear
But your smooth laugh puts the whole room at ease
No matter how scarcely it surfaces

You've been hurt by everyone
Yourself included
But you'd rather die
Than put someone down
Because you truly believe every achievement is worth all the stars in the sky

You're quiet
Sometimes it's a little annoying
But who can blame you
You mean no harm

You're self conscious
I mean arent we all
But you put everyone else back together so they cant resist to love themselves a little more
No matter how much
This stupid

Hate yourself
joan Sep 2018
why i do not want anyone to be
friends with me is that i know
they can't handle me, i am always
too much. i am a handful of
uncontrollable messㅡshattered
bones and pierced soul. because
at first, they would think i got
my life together, that i am the most
stable person ever. then, when
my veil rolls down, you'll see the
horror in their eyes. they'd back
up, slowly walking away from my
ruins for they are afraid to touch
my broken glass edges. no
one's too brave to stay with me
with my broken parts shown.
people always leave. so as soon
i have someone starting to be
around me, i prepare myself for
the worst, for their leaving, for my
loneliness (yet again). and
maybe this is why i do not want
anyone to be friends with me:
they'll make me grow attached
to them, almost trusting them with
my shattered pieces when in
reality, they're afraid of it. they
have always been afraid of me.
this is me trying to justify why i ghosted youㅡi was afraid, too.
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