"oversharing" poems
Oversharing on your social feed
Everyone knows your wants and needs
Save for those who really care
To the rest of us you need not bear
Your lunch and dinner were had, we see
Relationship status updated several times a week
How can it be?
I remember a day we shared with ourselves
Worries and whims on paper with pen
In a book called a journal or diary
it would have been
Discreet it was then
As it should be again
I can't wait for the sharing to end.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
the homeless are ******** in the streets,
well some of them are
the homeless have been ******** in the streets
a lot lately
when they are not getting scatological on the streets of seattle
they are conjuring the other images of themselves, because there is always so much more to this story
as they sit on the sidewalk and/or in entrances of shops, restaurants, and other commercial establishments
throwing empty beer cans in the street
at the people walking past
they say seattle is going to be the next san francisco
because that is what tech is, nothing new
forgotten already done ideas redone
same price tags same coast line same **** in the streets
they must have thought something better
was here, waiting for them
when they rode into town
from other towns
housing, more drugs, a new life
in these streets that they **** in
not sure what they heard
their tents under the over pass
their trash upon the hill
overlooking the highway
their tents always have a highway view
their trash too
i should be that afraid of my own life
of what tomorrow will be
oversharing in a voice
that is not my own
miss jean brodie in **** city style
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
The expectation,
Of you to accept the inhalation,
Of the evaporation,
Of someone else’s waste.
Make it make sense,
How the walls of stalls,
Fail to reach its maximum highs and lows,
For all of us to share what we release.
We listen to the air,
That flubs between *** cheeks,
Just as the **** projects deuces,
Into the bowl that cups the sound of wind.
We hear the moans and sighs,
Of relief, constipation and strain,
As we urinate nearby,
Adjacent to the incomplete **** shack.
Make it make sense,
How tasting the gases,
Of Joe Blow, blowing out his insides,
Is a customary to our community.
A sociological experiment,
Deemed to generate sociopathy,
As we laugh at the flatulence,
And giggle at one’s vulnerability.
Merely a forgotten fact,
That we have been there too,
We go there every day,
And pretend that others don’t do the same.
And without a mere act of courtesy,
The space is left filthier than the last,
Because why be considerate for the next?
Someone’s job is to cleanse my waste.
Furthermore is the neglect,
Of faucets, soap and towels,
Aimed to **** bacteria,
That exits biological passageways.
Why oh why,
Must I be forced to study,
Why this is simply unacceptable,
This concept of oversharing?
Recurring stage fright,
Readily apparent,
When forced to **** beside men,
More than double my size.
I’ll simply never understand,
How by design,
What we wouldn’t do in front of house guests,
Is something we are urged to do in front of strangers.
Bonding,
With a bunch of hairy, overweight men,
Who clear their throats, bladders and colons,
In my personal space.
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 9:41 PM UTC
i remember someone on this site a long time ago.
they would write unrelenting epic poems that
always made my fingertips tingle in that way
they do when you're surprised art made you
feel something again, you know?
i arrive back here tonight because i've been
doing a whole lotta feeling and far too little art
and i've stopped letting it surprise me.
i keep oversharing when people ask, "how are you?"
i keep wondering who i'm supposed to be at this point on this long path of becoming. i don't know, i've never liked the phrasing but it resounds so cleverly from forebrain to nervous system it's uncanny and unavoidable and ineffable. who am i am i am i am i am i ...
i want to make a map,
a cartography of memory,
charting the granite and
soil, marrow and moss,
river foam, abusers,
flower gardens, wild blackberries --
the purple dabbed away from those
soft parts that blackberries might stain
to wash deep berry blood off
in the public pool bathroom
where she first made you a novelty
to scrape darker
from under his fingernails
with bark from the tree she
made you hide behind
the same park you grew up in
a spot you always caught the sunset
a spot he caught you and the sun seemed always then to set
still haven't gone back
it's time to make a map
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
oversharing
undercaring
people staring
lights glaring
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 10:50 PM UTC
A solemn inferno is crafted, and not shortly after
My bones are chapped, my blood shaking, my organs cracking;
Have I got it wrong? I laugh.
I follow the path of the pointed droppings from the trees
The crunch at my feet, how cliché! I hesitate.
The chill slips away in the night, and the fire
Wraps around our hands – like gloves – a perfect fit.
Life is too grim to live without a flame
I never want to face a season without this.
I have seen the moon dance and decline;
Seen it
Finish its routine.
I applaud.
Start again.
Again, again, again,
Huddled around my ball of light, bonding;
Oversharing. I cry.
When I was still able to count my age on my fingers,
This sun could never come undone;
I never imagined her ********** her soul for me,
slowly, like a neatly wrapped present on Christmas morning;
I never imagined learning how to burn my memories.
I can finally let you go.
Your kisses never showed me this admiration
But I wish you well. I sigh.
I will see you again, in the candlelight –
Only an imitation of the evenings
where the fireflies would tuck me into bed
and the stars would tell me a story.
Goodnight, good riddance. I lie.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 12:06 PM UTC
What if we kissed while I get 5150’d?
POV: I just met you
You’re in the dayroom oversharing me your
Sketchbook of celestial imagery
Running your fingers through my hair
Translating Le Petit Prince en Français
As you hold the English version-
Holding my head in your lap
I’m the womb in the wounds in your wrists
Filling the void
In your arms
where You just lost your baby;
Jul 17, 2021
Jul 17, 2021 at 12:31 AM UTC
I'm overbearing,
Always oversharing.
Too much caring
So cease
The beast
Inside
That feasts
And preys
On my heart
With every defeat.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC
I collect secrets
gathering them up like
a squirrel holds chestnuts in its cheeks
I hold them, in anticipation of
leaner times
that way, I will be
fine
fine
when winter arrives -
when I am left
alone
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Wish to be an unmoving mountain,
Snow clasped, untouched and cold.
A big lenticular cloud casting its shadow,
Over the peak, that has the view of a world.
I see myself failing to achieve this,
A curious mind is often a curse.
There's a little whisper and chatter,
Like a curious deer, I stick my antlers in
Someone has built a little dwelling,
I hear the stomp and the noise now.
As I watch, don't wish to be bothered,
But stealthily I observe now.
Curious mind , Oh! it should explode,
If I don't tend to it now, so I must know,
Just a little peek , is all I want ,
Promise to tiptoe back safely.
I speak not, of the many misadventures,
That shaped my past and my being.
Intense reckonings that are a bit distasteful,
Remind me to stay away from the drama.
A peek is all it takes, the stranger knows now,
Let's get acquainted , they say to me.
I shake my head in a 'yes' reluctantly,
Oh curiosity! you have me in your grasp again!
Little by little, it seeps into your mind,
As curiosity and desire go hand in hand,
Just a tiny bit , I should know their story,
What makes them , the way they are.
I invite them, into my own dwelling now.
Show them this minds artful creation,
Stories for stories in exchange,
From acquaintance to friends now.
Curiosity flows like the river now,
Washing away the sands of time,
Missing those cues to stop now,
Oversharing and sharing secrets.
They Talk, I talk , a little more everytime,
The never ending stories of times past.
Some more of the present now,
It seems, I put my trust in them.
I know their secrets but do I dare?
They know mine, and yes they can tell,
My failures, vulnerabilities and fears,
All's an open book for their eyes.
A book they gladly share and overshare,
Till the rim bursts and the pages swell.
All my bruises known to all,
Who else to blame and names do I call.
Alas, I have been a fool again!
Drowning to the oceans depth,
Wished I be the unmoving mountain,
Even reaching it's base is now uncertain.
You've done the deed and is yours only,
To bear the fruit of your own desire,
Distasteful, bitter and cold,
I sit undone, forlorn burning in a pyre.
Apr 12, 2024
Apr 12, 2024 at 1:59 PM UTC
Feel like I went
somewhere wrong
People look but
they don't hold on
And I so crave
for interaction
For a poetic
intersection
I can't
stop writing
It's reverse writer's block
that I'm fighting
When all I can do
is oversharing
the pressure in my head
is overbearing
I know we are all
most interested in ourselves
Standing tall
in front of our virtual bookshelves
Not much wrong with it
It's only human nature
we wait for our creations to be a hit
so we feel a little bit more mature
Our intentions must be
somewhat the same
Am I wrong in thinking that we all
want a little bit of fame
Maybe the word falls short to describe
I mean we all want to be seen
Make a small impact, "please subscribe"
Everyone wants to be part of the scene
Oh but "I don't care what I am",
that's not what I do
Ah but unfortunately
that's not even half true
I didn't care much when
I started out
Simply because
I wasn't so proud
Of being able to write
my most inner thoughts down
and still call them
my own
And I still don't feel
proud in comparison
All these beautiful souls on here
This lyrical ship has quite a strong garrison
But it makes me sad and I wonder
about some of you
and that's why I started to ponder
cause I have no clue
What does "a follow for a follow" mean
If that's all we do
what does it matter, why so keen
Do you think it's only fair
I follow you, you follow me
But I want you to really care
To click because you want to see
Silly little adventures that I share
and who I want to be
I still strive to feel connected
I read of you
til I'm feeling like everything's collected
Is it too much to ask to wish you'd too
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 6:04 AM UTC
Dearest Skye,
Hello.
We haven't spoken in a long time.
Forgive me. I isolate too much.
I've been sick. I'm still sick. I'm going to be sick for a while.
But that's okay. I have hope that it won't last forever. Eventually I'll find something that works. One day I'll leave this self-imposed quarantine.
I apologise. I'm oversharing again. You always told me I did that too much.
How have you been? Did you get that degree? Have you travelled to Japan like you said you would? Did you learn to play the drums?
Have you fixed your relationship with your parents? Did you finally forgive them? Have you kept in contact with your sisters? Your school friends?
And have you solidified your identity? It's hard. The hardest challenge I've ever faced. If I can't do it, you must. Or else you will be miserable for the rest of your life.
But you must not close yourself off like before. You don't have to hide your emotions. To master them, you have to let them consume you and then climb out of the abyss.
You're strong. You can do it. I believe in you.
Write back to me. Let me know if you're happy. I hope, for both of our sakes, that you are.
Sincerely,
Skye.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 10:02 PM UTC
beat into me until i'm broken and the feelings
alight the layer of skin just below the outermost,
like the lining of a jacket, catching aflame.
scratch out the remaining worries with the spines of your teeth.
rake me upwards, shred the doubts like old sunburn peel, and peel and peel the layers of mistrust off of me till i'm raw, pink and ready.
never has this body not been scarred
without first feeling excitement.
since you pierced it, now you're responsible. I'll chase that ownership, mutually owed, to the end of all meaning. till the sensations are the only bits that still make sense, and then you can make up for everything else.
only after this, after everything else is spread across a blood splattered floor, can things start again. only once you make up for not returning the parts of me. only once my remaining organs, now calcified, have been cracked to their inner ichor, and you tip me gently into your thankless lungs.
only once the prostration, the words left since butchered into me, have been flayed by your regret, and raised to the height of saints.
hang me up.
swing by my legs and wrap around the root of me like you once would.
debase yourself inside of me again, learn to build something again. dig deeper than needed again, strike copper in my veins so I can oxidise again. watch me alight again, at your briefest touch.
Aug 22, 2023
Aug 22, 2023 at 4:39 PM UTC
A pang in my chest
says don't pursue
him he'll be just
like the others
patting you on the head
and telling you who you are
until its bored into you.
You'll leave looking
for strangers
to surprise
someone
who doesn't know
your favorite wine
maybe he'll choose
something refreshing
that you don't like.
At least it will be
different, not the same
until he walks away
and it's over.
And you suddenly
miss having someone
who knew you that way -
so we'll.
oh well.
So you'll take some time
to stretch yourself
and then you'll be ok
and then you'll start looking
but find nothing and quickly
spiral into a depression
because no one wants
to know you like he did.
So you'll call him
and complain
about your lack of options,
feel guilty for oversharing
then send him
a naked pic for listening.
And the you'll go on
a date with someone 'great'
and then they'll disappoint you
because they seemed spontaneous
but aren't really or are
but don't have their **** together.
And then you'll...
**** I can't do it anymore.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 2:24 AM UTC
Most people are hiding
at big parties like this one
I came here alone with glitter on my face as protection
Now everyone I've met is on ketamine and oversharing
I pick lemons from the tree that reaches over the fence
and start handing them out but no one wants them
No one wants my kindness
Everyone just wants to make out and forget everything
Perhaps I'll be the only one with memory of this night
I'm stone cold sober but
I too can be more honest than usual
It's like one of those theoreticals someone asks you
"You have one hour to say whatever you want without anyone remembering it: what would you say?"
I tell everyone they are beautiful and that I wish I could hold them and give them something real
They look at me how I imagine a ghost would
before I disappear back into los angeles
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 3:08 PM UTC
You don't need to tell them
That a ***** fell on the floor
Tell them to listen some music
To cover all the noise
You hold a cigarette at hand, you're a criminal
You hold a cigarette at hand, you're against society
You hold a cigarette at hand, you look like a poor darling
Better be cryptic than normal
Why the hotline isn't even free
And why is it only an hour long
The laws of the calling of nature are not helping
You and I use a lot of that
You can tell that I'm not validated as a child
If only I can kick a person's leg, then they won't show the bible to me
If only I can make a person throw up without seeing me
If only I can make a person feed their hand to the fire and burn there to see how it feels
How much of this is oversharing? How much of this is artistic?
I know not everything's my fault
Yet I feel bad I feel bad
when people apologize
The next fight or flight second move is to gaslight me
Trying to glue all the chinks together
Then wait for an hour for a jar to grow
I eat a sandwich of truffles
I don't think they're truffles at all
If only I can eat a paper of daycare rules just like I ate that sandwich
Did you know that sandwich I ate wasn't mine but yours?
Truffles I digest but don't remember how it taste
Meanwhile, a beggar jumps in joy for a dollar
I tried painting the Venus goddess herself once
It turns out that's the girl from The Ring
If she was only as pretty as the eyeliner of hot topic wednesday
We all know that old men love youthful wednesdays that dance dance on their lap until they die
Self-awareness isn't enough
A spoonful of sugar isn't enough
When you have checklists
When you have contests
When you whiten your teeth with coal
When you have a devil that wears prada
It's an illness, not a personality
You don't have to suffer
But this is my suffering
Just to hear a good tone, I'm baffled someone can play a guitar
Meanwhile, I can't manage my own emotions
There is no perfect decision.
But no one would believe in that guru's book of improvement
Only the end product
before I fake laugh.
Once in a while can I mosh pit singing the lyrics to my own concert?
Feb 10, 2023
Feb 10, 2023 at 6:38 AM UTC
I wish your love came without conditions
If I don't do everything you ask are you still going to love me
All those years you told me I was inferior
I found someone who told me I was enough
Oversharing on the internet with absolute strangers
Male validation is better than no validation right?
I wish you knew how much your words affected me
Jan 29, 2022
Jan 29, 2022 at 11:04 PM UTC
you say my name
when I'm not around
oversharing, overbearing
don't act like you're so special
you're like everyone else
she's so nice
it's suspicious
I don't want to hear it
you're not my friend
keep my name
out of your mouth
Aug 30, 2021
Aug 30, 2021 at 4:02 AM UTC