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Kai Mar 2019
Life is a game of telephone
my messages mingle in my throat
the translation is lost
some where between my lips it twists

when I mean I love you
it comes up meekly as hello
when I mean do you want to get coffee
it comes up as you look nice today

Miscommunication led to friendship
games of telephone go on
I sit at your side through life

when I mean your my everything
it comes you as best friend
when I mean I can't live without you
it comes out as I'll always be here for you

Year on down the road
you're still unreachable right next to me
every conversation
a long game of telephone
Just trying a different style again. Sorry if it's weird. I really need to get these moths pretending to be butterflies out of my stomach. Love seems so unobtainable when everyone I like ends up a friend.
Joanna Charis Aug 2018
Girl:

Boy, why are you so elusive?
I’m standing right there;
Do you find me intrusive?
Do you even really care?

I want your attention;
I want you to notice me.
But everytime you look away,
I feel like I’ve been stung by a bee.

————————————-

Boy:

My eyes don’t tear away because of apathy;
On the contrary, I think you are truly lovely,
It is cowardice, you see, that keeps me from looking back at you warmly.

Please wait, one day, I’ll be brave
Enough to meet you in that familiar gaze.
Then we’ll smile and say, “hello”
I just hope
By then,
it won’t be too late.
Dakota Brown May 2013
A world of people
Who thinks she's weird.

When she meets someone she likes
She opens one of the gates up.

They still have a while to go to
See who she really is.

She's hapless at romance,
Not getting a chance with anyone
Because she merely watches
Romance from the side lines,
Only able to analyze it,
Never truly experiencing it,
Not knowing the full reality of it,
Basing her decision to be closed off
From only observation.

Maybe someday a guy will
Sweep her off her feet,
But who will he be?

Because of miscommunication she cannot
Get her feelings across.

Apparently she keeps her
Feelings hidden far too long
Because she wants others to
Be happy.

She is shunned for her
Want to make everyone else
Happy before herself,
Making her the lone wolf,
Who merely observes,
Watching from the woods,
Howling at the moon,
Sad to be alone,
But not sure if it'd make a
Difference or not in happiness
If she were to be placed together with another wolf.

She likes her freedom, but
Is pulled like a rope between
Freedom and commitment, trying
To find a balance.

She's not sure, but not patient
With the matter, she likes to
Push it deeper into herself, to ignore
The loneliness, and look into the future,
Hoping it'll be better than the miserable
Balcony that she stands on, watching
Couples kiss and hold hands,
Frowning and then smiling,
Having conflicting emotions.
Brooksimus Aug 2011
Like a treacherous jungle, the world shaped its self to resemble the untamable, unforgiveable, and unimaginable creature that pounced on every crest of supple, innocent victim’s souls only to be dragged miles through painful, elongated trenches, and then expended in its entirety to recommence restructure in all new patterns of mutilated destructed forms; completely rearranged and in search for the light to guide culpable souls into worthy positions with better conditions and purer intentions.

From the inception, slithering wildly the legendarily discreet elapid serpent anticipated the fierce panthera. What was thought as a tyro odyssey, was underrated, uncreated, and translated to total transformative, love abated, accommodative, grief impregnated, planes alternated, affirmative gamboling games.

As a barbarous being, all and every cutthroat, bloated, anecdote of overdrawn, theatric fervor entered this imprudent, illuminated, and aggregated thing to fill unanswerable questions and unexplainable connections by intersecting other frantic, energetic, idiosyncratic reoccurring addicts with realms of disintegrated, hardheaded, nerve racked dreams.

The exterior scaled, degenerated able soul entangled and sacrificed minded controlled logic against the mystic, enigmatic, acidic beast. Pushing forward in the battle of cosmic evolution, a mistake making, empathic fool, inflicted from predicated illusions of heart wrenching, exploding, brooding agape for aspired end resulted, expanded frontiers.

What the scrawny, deluded fool missed were the all purposeful and most numerable senses that embrace every now where infinity spirals out related creation in the ever expandable universe that all the scavengers, hoarders, trackers, hunters, carnivores, herbivores, and the water possessed serpent misuse every now and now and now and now and again to address the real issues that are eschewed, abused, and viewed as insignificant tools that could never resolve unbearable fights within things, beings, or feelings of desertedness.

Miscommunication is everywhere and nowhere. Uncontrollable senses are everything and nothing. A constant fight within and without means nothing. Nerves we suppress and addictions we abuse. All to fill a space that exists at uncontrollable rates and lighting speeds. What is strategic logic without perceived cognizance? This is constant tumultuous idleness, sacrificed thoughtlessness, crude awareness, and unmanageable apprehension only exploited to rationalize a beast with labels, feeble doubts, to dwindle realities, and to fuel the unpeaceful balance.

The brute, that the restless, powerless, and distrustless serpent inhabited welcomes the transformative living immortal beings into the now of the hare who weakens the logic to lessened and opened tempos of the lines, spaces, and levels of the all and great smash of vast, immense potentiality of authenticity.
Mosca Jun 2016
Cover your mediocrity.
With your digital identity.
The semi-logical fuckery.
Of the modern technology.

The start of a new generation.
A flood of false information.
Have caused the war of miscommunication.
And as we feed on fake emotion.
Our intelligence suffer from deterioration.

All is temporary.
Type delete save an image of a rosary.
Pathetic pixelated society
Who ***** you for being holy.
Make a mistake, that's what keeps them happy.
Lowlifes that only has a kilobyte of memory.

End times have come.
Where knowledge is neglected.
It is a war but normal to some.
Oh how I love to join but I am
Disconnected.
This poem summarize some of the parts of social media population.
kara lynn bird Feb 2013
Your satellite couldn't save us-
the burn from the radiation
leaves us stinging
like wounded soldiers
from a world war,
a battle
between
you
and
your
satellite.

A battle of miscommunication
lost in translation while hoping
for things to be right-

You're a
lost astronaut
in the night
looking for a reason
for flight
blaming things
that don't feel right
while disappearing from sight-
You're a broken satellite.
Kayla Perkins Sep 2017
He didnt listen to a word i said.

And i don't think i listened to a word he said.

We were both just talking to hear our own voices
Laura Duran Oct 2016
Late at night and I'm still awake
afraid to close my eyes.
We tried to fix us, too little too late
Now I'm dreading the sunrise.

I know in my heart, you've made up your mind
Come morning, you're gonna leave.
I'll stay here broken...left behind
but I'll grant you your reprieve.

Perhaps someday you'll come back to me
but really, I think you won't.
I guess that's how it's supposed to be
We must move on so we can grow.

but I'm so gonna miss you.....

I'm counting every breath you take
as I pretend to sleep.
I know you're laying there awake
Why won't you talk to me?

I wonder just what I should say
when the sun lights up the sky.
Should I ask for one more day
or should I just say goodbye?

I guess you want me to go,
guess it must be too late.
Better that I find my own road
before your love turns to hate

but I don't want to leave you.....
Adam B Feb 2010
Paratroopers free fall,
'chutes coiled and caught in a grease ball afro curl
reaching down perplexed ****** frames.
Diligent chortling mimes trapped in handmade indecision cages, tapping a telling tune of tired games played day after day.
A right brained boy with a head full of clout
miscommunication with a leftist expat from the north
to the south.
Jostled connections send out fizzling sentences
through blown speakers and an overheated circuit -
Bored of the excuses whispers the nameless
without a reason there isn't a purpose.
Shoot an accusing glare past Father Time
overlooking treasonous discouraging crimes
Open those whale blubber caked eyes
to the other side.
It's not what this has done to you
but what this has done to us.
The hitchhiker gave up, traded his thumb for a seat on the bus.
Never was he lost, but given more than one chance.
He, no, she, no we
were thrown away with his walking stick and his waterproof nap sack.
Will we cross this road again?
And pick up from where we began?
Or never turn back?
Always was he lost, but given one too many of a chance
But was it worth it?
Upholding the "right and proper" stance?
A few hole punchers
A bag full of oranges
A head perplexing

The king will always rule for himself
The sea turtles never lie
The miscommunication destroying chaos

“Here’s a glass of sweet tea”

Gouging out flashbacks
Purposely watching stains spread
Wishing I could count to one million

Sailing the Mediterranean Sea
Roaming The Great Plains  
Soaring above The Troposphere


“I want to feel the black and white”
Ree Bunch Jul 2016
We've been talking for hours.
Struggling for ultimate power.
Can't you read my inner cues?
I still sit trying to get through
Only to notice you have no **** clue!
Unity Drain Aug 2013
Simple fixes
Crushed by complicated lies
Speech impaired
Tongue tied
At least I tried
Said the liar
I am so sick and tired
Of hidden truths
And miscommunication
Because its
Tearing us apart
Simpleton Apr 2013
It was a simple complication
Of miscommunication*

I think one of us misunderstood,
An assumption was made,
What should have happened still could,
Let's acknowledge it before it fades.

That's not what I was trying to say,
But I guess its what you wanted to hear,
You've interpreted it in the wrong way,
and now everything is left unclear.
Raegan Marie Oct 2011
I.
My parents don't drink.
They have their masters.
They both have jobs so that I don't have to.
They raised me the Christian way.
We eat as a family every night.
We live in a neighborhood where violence is ostracized.
To my friends, my house is the place for comfort.
They tell me not to take it for granted
just because I'm used to it.

So I took a walk through my house,
making sure not to take my life for granted.

Through the kitchen,
I remember the unrelenting fist curled around my wrist,
the ice blue eyes that I used to see as gray,
the tight lips and the seething words.
I shake my hand as I remember the bloodlessness,
the purple swelling as eyes welled with tears,
the way I raced out only to find that I could not open the door to escape,
with one hand broken and the other unable to curl around the ****.

Down the hallway,
I reach up to massage my neck,
for the memory of choked tears
never leaves;
the sudden unforgiving fist
the strength with which a five-year-old could not compete.
My body swings from the neck down,
and the fist released as the arm powered me onto the floor of my room.

II.
I catch my foot on the dining room chair I used to hold in front of myself,
growing up a fighter.
When I learned to defend myself with the strength of age and experience,
the strangling fist became biting words.
When I gave up the religion under which I was raised,
I was told that I must not love that fist or those words,
that I took my life for granted.
I was told that I was the key to our family's unity.
I was told to grow up.

I don't drink.
I get good grades.
I find money for college so they don't have to.
I believe in loving everyone like Jesus did.
I make dinner when they don't have time.
I never bring home fighting friends.
To my friends, I make my parents proud.
They ask me how we have such a good relationship,
they ooh and aah at our affection.

But you don't love me.
I am your failure.
I am your tax break.
I grew up a fighter,
and you gave up.

III.
I used to fight for you,
but they say indifference is worse than anger for a reason.

My mother used to wonder,
where did these bruises come from?
I always shrugged,
telling myself,
I'll deal with this alone.

I'll get a reaction somewhere else.
And that fist, those words,
became teenage promiscuity.
The sweet, unmerciful clutch,
the never ending cycle of discontent,
miscommunication and misunderstanding
and the familiar feeling of not being able to escape.

And every time,
as feelings of decreased personal value were overwhelmed by temporary pleasure,
I sunk deeper into that comfort.

You don't love me.
And I don't want you to.
This is the most rough poem I've ever written.
I think I'm writing it more as a slam poem than anything else, but we'll see.
If it's terrible, tell me, although including how I could make it better would be helpful as well.
Trevor Jackson Oct 2013
WrappingPaper
If you look past my words
Read it as a metaphor
Read my expressions
Note my defenses
Follow me when I run
You'll see what an emotional wreck I am
The littlest comment
The tiniest miscommunication
The slightest insult
I break
I'm insecure about everything
Why won't it just end. 
I'm tired of this ***
I'm tired of the gut
I'm tired of this face
The skin
The feet
The hair
There's a reason I wear a hat
There's a reason I wear four layers
I only like texting
I hate the way my voice sounds
I hate my smile
I wish I could wear shades all the time
I play it all off as a joke
Until you leave
Then I go and do things like this
Or better
I'm the only thing stopping me from being happy
Everyone loves me
I have money
I had a girl
I have a bear
I had scars
I had a drug problem
Solution perhaps
I haz a chezburger
I have nice things
I have my eyes on one thing
A mirror
I look inward to find possible problems
Tell myself I'm gonna take care of it
I never do
Everything nice I do is for myself
For my own self gratification
Like I'm trying to become a god
So they will worship me
No one will be able to speak of my flaws
My obvious flaws
I try to help people but inside I can't see them happy
I have no empathy
Why should they be happy when I am not
I don't do drugs so I'm better
I'm smarter so I'm better
I'm in BETTER shape
I'm faster
I'm taller
I know more in the subject
I'm _er than you
I know you better than you do
But you know nothing of me
Cuz I don't let you in
I convince myself I'm someone I'm not so you won't possibly see the real me
Cuz I cut
And I'm depressed
Because I am
But I love learning
But hate living
But love eating
But hate weight
But can't throw up cuz I don't care that much
I don't work out much cuz I don't care that much
I don't do homework cuz I don't care that much
Cuz I'm chiller than you
I don't care about anything
Except my self image
About looking like someone who doesn't care while not letting myself go
So I dream of you
I cling to you
Who knows what we'd do
Probably nothing
You'd get bored
They all do
Cuz I can't look like I try to love you
I can't show any signs
So you can't read me
Cuz I'm in a different language
That not even I can read
I'm a dog chasing a car
Or a dog with a bone
You'd be buried away
Just for me
It's not a good life for the bone
Never seeing anyone else and slowly getting eaten away
I can't quite end it
Something needs to complete me
That's your call never to make
Save me without giving in
Don't fill my emptiness
I'll spill it everywhere
Why do I try
To know me
To show you
I get it
You can't leave cuz you don't know how
You need to see me
The real me
And **** me so I finally can
Bianca Reyes Jan 2016
There's been a miscommunication
Between my heart and my mind
Electrical impulses at every synapse
Scream your name in adoration
In every neuron they will find
That there has been a collapse
It's caused by my love for you

All that I know to be true
Is that there has been a malformation
A terrible replication of some kind
The one that courses violently perhaps
It fills my mind with all this information
To all else I've gone blind
A neural take over that I can't surpass
Because my body knows that I love you
Written and shared on Hello Poetry on January 19, 2016. Copywrite under Bianca Reyes. All rights reserved
Mike Essig Aug 2015
I'd like
to get
deeper
inside
your head
she says.

I'd like
to get
deeper
inside you,
he thinks.
-mce
I give you flowers and tears
You give me sarcasm
I wish you would show a little more sympathy
You'd rather I get a backbone
I whisper unspoken love on your shoulder
You say it with a mothering tone
I have a panic attack whenever something doesn't fit
You dismiss it all with an iron fist
I dream of a place full of love and passion
You're just thankful you even exist
Money, ***, miscommunication and occasional road trips
It's not necessarily a bad thing just
Our own sort of a
**Dysfunctional relationship
J Apr 2013
I felt beautiful
Weird, right?
For me at least
Then I saw her
The one you really love
Not just your second choice
She shines like the sun
And she was beautiful in her pining for you
And I was wretched in my shame
She is beautiful, pure, pristine
And I am ugly, *****, unclean
I tried to take what wasn't mine
I hate myself more for wanting you still
Why do I delude myself into thinking you would choose me?
Over her?
Impossible
I can't even have the pleasure of a daydream
For it is too far-fetched,
Even for me,
To dream that you would choose me over her
Dreamer that I am
I no longer even have that escape
And I just can't understand
What would make you change the way you act towards me
You, romantic of all romantics, acting like any other boy
That makes me think
That I must be worse than any other girl
Because why am I not good enough for your sentimental love?
The love that I crave more than anything
Barely a week, and you broke my heart
It was crash and burn, just like I knew it would be
But I dived in anyway
Foolish girl, foolish me
Living out a pre-conceived tragedy
But you wanted me
That much is true
But it's not enough
Not for me
Its just not enough
I want all of you
I want to hold your hand
Push your hair off your forehead
Feel your arms tighten around me
Be on the receiving end of all your smiles
Be the one you talk about to your friends
Be the girl you post those silly quotes about
I thought that...
No, I hoped that you might fall
Since I was so willing
But maybe this is my fault
Cause I never let you see
The inside, the layers, of what I wanted us to be
And then there's that hope again
That this was all a miscommunication
That you'll call me again
But then I remind myself of her
And her shining, golden beauty
And I remember me
My anxious, awkward insecurity
And I fall back down again
It's enough that my stomach is in knots
And I can't eat
Because every time I do the food is thrown up the incline, thrashed around a loop-dee-loop, and back down again
Hope & Despair
Locked in a desperate tango
Marching their way through my body
Leaving me cold, shaking, tearful, awake, and lonely
But it's my own fault
I shouldn't have gone for what I knew I could never have
Basically a projectile-upchuck of my feelings lately
Sorry if it doesn't make any sense :/
Kayla Flanders Jul 2018
i keep searching for love in vowels and sounds
and you speak in silence
                     - how we say
Abigail Sedgwick Oct 2016
I am responsible for
the words that I say,
not the words you
dane to hear.
Ams May 2010
I'm stuck in a cycle of miscommunication
where the heart and the head
play a tug of war
forever changing decisions
of future obligations
commitments of reason
falling in a changing season of life

I'm in self rehab
attempts to end this cycle
stare into the horizon
one day I'll be there
where?
I don't know
but I'll be there
next to you.
Kenneth Fox Aug 2011
Who knew love could wrinkle so fast.
Contending for first but ending at last.
Who knew someone’s promise was only a day’s story told
Where you’re wrong you’re always sold
Finding the perfect ones who weren't perfect at all.
End up tripping, victim to the fall.
To the love that clouded vision.
Taking away from a true mission.
Losing yourself in the chaos of miscommunication.
Never feeling enough appreciation.
Though you persevere and you pull through.
You find yourself and a new someone finds you.
Let the universe decide.
You are its contents, it is where you reside.
The clouds disperse, life dies and begins again.
Love is pleasure but don't forget the pain.
Be in love, be who you are.
Don't get consumed, always be aware.
You're no mistake.
Don't be a fake.
Shea Vogt Oct 2013
Shivers, subdued, sit poised and submerged for flight
Just below my, still yet, warm-to-the-touch skin.
Conversation licks across a yellow light
As my mind wanders to simply going in.
Yet, my neck creaks back and heavy my lids lie
When the decision finally comes to speak
And vocal chords retreat as if always shy--
Miscommunication between tongue and cheek.
Resilient, an iris peeps out to observe
A mind's vague understanding of echoed phonic.
Small leaves shiver. A chill creeps across each nerve.
The night serves as a stress relieving tonic.
A comforting thought as I reach to envelop:
That each day serves as a chance to develop.
samasati Oct 2013
a womb. *****. an egg. curiosity. a man and woman that love each other. a man and woman that don’t know each other. a man and woman that kind of like each other but don’t want anything serious.

stupidity. a ripped ******. a missed birth control pill. bad fortune. good fortune. an in the moment decision. a premeditated decision. ***.

love-making. *******. pulling out. pre-*******.

old flames. new sparks. excitement in the private parts.

addiction. miscommunication. needing something to feel important. to have a purpose.

mothers and fathers. crack addicts and coke heads. teenagers.

impatience. anticipation. guilt for causing blue *****.

****. accidents. mistakes.

true love.
Why do we c o m m u n i c a t e
           to simply just
                       r  e  p  l  y?

And not
           u n d e r s t a n d
                             the meaning behind the words she cries
why?
A box junction,dysfunctional miscommunication,down by the station in one more of its type,a shattered crack pipe and a broken down motormouth man,spanning the distance between here,over there,swiping the air,******* his pants,ranting at rainbows,begging from strangers,
he's just another of the night time ghost rangers,a shadow that falls off imagination and walled off behind solidified dried up and **** out hot dreams that appeared to be real,in the stealing of childhood in the big world bad wild hood,where the good don't die young but are used as the fate bait for just wait and see state, you get in,when you stick the pins in your veins,bleed drain fluid cleaner, how keen are you now?

How the mighty have risen to be crushed,cast aside on the mad ride to stardom in the Kingdoms of blinged up and blind men,
dazzle me, quick me,me brain's oh so sick me,
and sometimes I wonder
and sometimes I don't.

I won't make apologies to pygmy type minds who only find it within them to carp,criticise,and as I prise up the mountains to catch moles for my dinner,I ask of my god,just who is this winner that's wrote of on totems?
Poles apart
we start in the middle,fiddle the figures which figures not in the outcome and I come out fighting,
delightful in madness where the sad can't attack me,where the strait jacketed banality of life is finally flushed,where I'm not rushed in decisions,make insightful incisions with obscure ramifications and cut anyway,cut everything away and cast off.

A bit like knitting
but not with wool.
C A Jul 2013
Unresponsive
Silence aching in the pit of my stomach boiling the blood beneath my skin
Raging chaos
Weeping solitude until I fall asleep awaiting an explanation
Shaken glory
Magnifies in the heat of some miscommunication, lack of trust slithering out within each insult
Always trying to defy the laws of gravity
Unable to admit there are no such thing as superheros, magic wands, or even luck
I am bulimic to love and lust and all things good
Allergic to kindness and appreciating and all things right
I always get left in the middle, asking myself
What the hell is wrong with me
Lynn For Now May 2013
You were my brother.  
My first best friend I could trust.
She told my secrets, I couldn't trust her.
I could trust you,
have fun with you,
be smart and nerdy with you.
I loved you.

I told you how I felt.
You told me how you felt.
Miscommunication and a bird talking in my ear
ruined us
I lashed out at you, you apologized.
Why didn't I realize?
Yes, you are my best friend.  I'm sorry.  Don't leave now.
You didn't leave.

High School

You barely speak to me.
I am now uncool.
You are above me.
You mock me to your friends behind my back.
I convince myself that you would never....
I loved you.... you wouldn't.... would you?

Senior Year

Your best friend mocks me
cyberbullies me
nearly kills me by my own self-inflicting hand.

But what is this?
You could have stopped him
But I wasn't worth your pride.
You couldn't tell him no.
So I nearly gave up my life
Out of self loathing.

You were my brother.
I loved you.  
You wanted to love me.
Why did you do this.

******* Benson.  I have no brother.  And no love for you.
Devan Proctor Jul 2013
One
Under the undeterred eyes of the sanguine, she offers him all her breath, a pale lily in a hackneyed October dress. He fills up all the space without question. For awhile, she considers coy eyes, or nothing at all. For a second, he considers her presence.

Two
The jolted stir comes on as a swell before real time, and occurs just after the establishment of a name, or a likeness, or pretty hands put to work, wiping crystallized adulation into her brow, and her repose was ragged and uncouth and far from her hands, but he would never know that.

Three
Fresh irritation spits at a target truly deserving the claw, charged under frivolity and tardiness, and enduring a verbal revenge at a collective likeness, revamping the smooth glass of his tenorly color into a crow’s call of little patience.

Four (before)
Forget the cold. Forget your pleas overseas. Take your hat, it’s cold tonight. Take a brunette, leave her in the dregs. Through to it, the music’s loud and the night has taken another's pretty hands. Covet the cloves and honey you smeared into your ashy fingers and pretend to give way, only slightly. Run into the fire, eyes closed.

         (after)  
         Even if it was just for this moment’s settling. Even if it felt like the whole and final truth. Even with the valved smoke singinga round you and the crush of bodies folding you closer, and the moon shining directly behind your eyes, it is as if all you’ve ever known was the dark reverence layering her skin.

Five
  Can you impale a dream? A dream may not be gripped, but it has a place of its own. A dream may nest in the ridges over time, and may arise as inexplicable color, but it will ravage the ventral cavity until hope crawls up and over her shoulders, masking the eyes to see something never there before. Can you spot-treat a want so fully self-invested in a recalled series of impassioned pseudo-happenings and fervent miscommunication? Can you **** off the interrogate latched onto each one of your senses? Are you divulged within each unlasting augmented beauty?

Six
         He remembers moments when everything seems to slow down. He remembers how strange it is, to whisper over the grind of a herd. He talks of distillation, as you absorb all this, how in total fairness, in total want, you deserve it. It will intoxicate him, but he shall not let it.  Only in circumstance is a cheap cup born by trembling maidenhands, unbound by hometown lovelies and swerving.
AmberLynne Jul 2014
Sometimes while sitting next to you
I feel as if we are actually galaxies away from one another
and I'll try my damnedest to gather up all the stars in the vicinity
and spell you out a message among the constellations.
But for some reason you can't read my signs.
Maybe we're not speaking the same language,
or I simply haven't gathered enough stars to adequately display what I'm attempting to say.
Whatever the cause, our miscommunication turns the inches between our bodies
into unconquerable territory
that spans light years.
7.15.14
Emma Guy Dec 2014
Maybe I need to remember that when you make my back arch and I moan, does not mean you want to set up home.
And just because I make you hard and you want more, does not mean I'm going to link you at your yard.
Let's get this in perspective cause maybe just maybe our wires are getting crossed.
This is getting a bit hazy and I'm getting a bit lost.
If you want to **** me, then tell me how it is, cause I can't be believing it's more and thinking "oh I'll be his".
Don't you dare kiss and cuddle me in your bed, when all you wanna do is give me the D and get some good head.
See for women kissing is a passion, a representation of feeling.
So when you kiss me that's when I start believing.
Now *** is more animalistic and when you pull my hair and slap me, I can start to be a bit more realistic.
I can start to see this is all you need and when I'm gone there is more women you want to breed.
But that's fine just don't text me with "hey babe how is your day?" and "I was just wondering if you wanted to stay?".
Cause that's when miscommunication starts to appear and those feelings arise like I was beginning to fear.
I'm beginning to believe that *** is passion, that's why italians are so good at it just like their fashion.
And I can't put up with this meaningless ***, I want love and friendship like I had with my ex.
So this is goodbye to you all, now there is no *** let's see if you call.
thymos Jan 2017
i know better than
to share what i call my
poetry
with the person i love.
as if for better, as if for worse.
Another Bad Poem Mar 2018
i don't understand
how you presume to tell me
you want to solve our
miscommunication problem
no
first of all
it is not our problem
it is yours
every time you don't listen to me
every time you take what I say
take my pure, innocent words
and twist their meanings
that is miscommunication
every time you lie about what i said
or act as if i never said anything at all
that is miscommunication
how dare you spend hours each night
complaining about your lack of friends
and the horrid things they do
to a person twice as horrid
how dare you come tell me
that you don't want to be around
people whom you can't talk to
who don't want to listen to what you have to say
people who don't give you time to speak
or when they're mad, turn you away
you do the same thing to me
so maybe i should ignore you
like you say you should ignore them
maybe i should turn away from you
cast you away, curse your name
scream your evil deeds to the world
but no
you forbid it
and a fool, i listen
i listen because i love you
i love you despite everything you've put me through
the **** you've made me feel like
the fractures in my soul that can never feel
the emptiness within me
i still love you
and i hate myself for it
because i can't stop
i can't stop wanting to please you
i can't go against you
how dare you presume to tell me
that you were like me
therefore you understand what i'm feeling
that you're sorry for what i'm feeling
you know nothing
you haven't lived my life
you haven't faced what i've faced
you haven't hurt like i've hurt
you haven't fought like i've fought
you never fought
you never tried
you
you
you did nothing
you stood by and watched
while here i am
actually trying to do something
and you keep beating me down
how dare you
how dare you
and you dare say you love me
how dare you
i love you
but i hate you
you're never going to read this
but even if you did
it wouldn't change anything
because for all the love you say you have
you don't give a **** about me
all you want is control
well
have all the control you want
it's gone in four months
just like i will be
there's nothing left between us
this will be goodbye
you won't miss me
you'll just miss having someone to boss around
and you'll realize too late
that you could have tried
to care
about your son

— The End —