"peeves" poems
I am so sick of having to go to mass to please my family who will not accept me otherwise.
I am so sick of having to walk down the street covering myself because men can't de-sexualise normal human body parts.
I am so sick of the arguments of sexism, racism and overall discrimination.
-if someone accepts you, great.
-if they don't, grow a thicker skin and rise above.
I am so sick of being afraid of things like trying new food and roller coasters that make me feel as though I'm missing out.
I am so sick of being so extremely misanthropic that when someone says they can relate to my sadness I get angry that another human believes they can empathise with me.
I am so sick of being told what to do with my life.
I am so sick of not knowing what to do with my life.
I am so sick of acting like I know what to do with my life.
I am so sick of my life.
I am so sick of myself.
I am so sick of looking at my features and scrutinising them.
I am so sick of being alive.
I am so sick.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
I don't want to be
Him, over there showing his scars off like some badass
Or her over there the loner, but beyond the truth she has more skeletons in her closet than you
Or the other person in the corner
Hiding from the world and thinks it's fine, but daylight is burning
Or the guy whose in denial, doesn't want to learn and thinks everything is fine In the current situation
I can't keep up
Seek what we sunk
Time lacks patience
But to define myself as a whole person
Accepting these perfect flaws and let them worsen
I have to chose and unwillingly
Have already chosen
You think you can beat me
See my flaw is not revenge its spite its the passion of proving you wrong the makes it ignite
I gotta remember
I'm not one of them
I have to be something different
Something better than
A person that text and goes on social media more than a 9 to 5 job to fill an aspiration
But I can't be the one who mocks those who social "medialize" and make my own words up just to show how pathetic they are
By far
I'm the worst
I dislike favoritism
So I can't fully tolerate relationships
And don't have the patience for lovey dovey antics
Or just some pet peeves
You don't have to end it I will leave
Oh and the self loathing
What a hypocrite am I
I go with whatever works instead or what my true self wants
A color without colors
However like you on facebook or you who have accomplished an amazing feet some much that an applause is needed
You are not special
And those who claim to be tied to no soul and blatantly put Yan in my life and theirs
You're not special
And through this raving and ranting of useless words making the sentences and sentences that make phrases to let me borrow the holy power of the context of these words
You are not special
It doesn't make a difference
I'm never going to be different
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
I've my peeves
and things I just don't like
like your puppies ****
on my shoe, morning, noon, or night
So when you've had all your days
and think you're heaven bound
remember all the crap you left
as justice comes, around
Moving toward that day, just ahead
I can only pray and hope
when you're in the hell hotel
you've only fresh doggie ****
for soap
(Slippery, and gooey, on a silken, golden rope)
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:09 AM UTC
why do my pet peeves follow me
in every pair of eyes
even the ones with three
patience aint going to call on me
its dead, at least its phone line is.....
no answer..
suicide, diabetic shock
over my brain like the 4 am train
that blows its horn a mile before
bccause its ****** at your neighbor
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
I'm a valedictorian not a *****
Each to their own, but really you should start thinking.
My ****** does not make me different, but my brain has a weird way of thinking.
It does not change the game,
****** me then maybe in football you could actually clutch me.
Say I can't make a difference I say pshh just watch me.
Sweetie I'm here to tell you that your beauty fades.
You're not Marilyn Monroe! Your smile won't be engraved.
All women use their vaginas, but how many use their brains?
How many have their own wants and peeves?
Or do you like it because it appeals male?
Dress up all you want! You will still feel the same pain.
After all is said and done...
You really think you'll look the same?
Sagging skin and a trembling voice don't you wish you behaved?
Touching boys and making noise, left you in an empty room with sorrow and pain.
Meanwhile someone else's room is extremely full while a maids cleaning, How do you think they paid?
Theyres always gonna be females that look better but brains are all but different.
So lately has anyone used it cause girls keep looking the same?
So listen to my warning and stop this raid, boys will be boys and love is obviously over rated.
Focus on education and then you will say 20 years later when life goes smoothly by, this is the poem that you will idolize.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
A no-strings-attached thing is easy to arrange
It sounds exciting too, seems very straightforward
But sometimes you get caught up in things you don’t expect
Before you know it, you start caring
You develop feelings
You learn things about the other person
Her middle name, her favourite music, food
Her pet peeves, ambitions
You learn her innermost thoughts
Her insecurities, her ****** proclivities,
The little birthmark just above her mons *****
The one that she says looks like a map of the Dominican Republic
You lie in bed with her all day
She teaches you how to swear in Farsi.
You **** her every day.
One day she sees you making out with this random ****** and she flips
You say, but we said no strings attached or did we not?
It’s not as simple as that though, it never is
But this girl, she believes in you
She’s a paragon of patience
She sits you down and tells you to listen to her carefully
She explains to you that now you are sleeping with her on the regular
Your body is somehow her body too, partly, and vice versa
Says she understands that you are not together officially
But intimacy usually comes with an implied exclusiveness.
You say, Ok, I've heard you. And I understand where you’re coming from.
Then you tell her to **** off.
Time passes
You begin to miss her.
But you’re pride won’t let you call her.
You have *** three times with two different girls in one weekend
One of those girls has a boyfriend, you **** her in a night club restroom.
The other one on the beach a day after
Then a few hours later in her bedroom.
In the morning her room is all sandy,
Going home you begin reflecting on things
You've learnt one thing for sure:
However much top-shelf ***** you get, it doesn't compare to the love of a good girl
So it doesn't matter how many lovers you have in this world
If none of them give you the world.
You swallow your pride and call her
She can’t make it, she says.
But she comes the next day in the evening.
You explain everything,
How it felt like she was tethering you to her
How you took it all too lightly.
You’re not too good at it, talking about your feelings
You say that what she’d told you that day had gone through one ear, out the other
So you had to learn it all by yourself, you had to go through it
Finally, you apologise.
You’re very sincere.
She asks you, so is this closure?
You don’t want it to be, but you don’t know if you actually deserve her
**** you don’t know if she’d even take you back.
If she does, you've still got a lot to prove.
You’ll be in luck, but you’ll be starting on nothing.
If she doesn't then you knew and blew a good thing.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
It seems to me as though people don't take the chance to get to know other people anymore. It's all about physical attraction and getting with that one person that everyone wants. Maybe we know each other's names and maybe where we're from, but do we know each other's pet peeves or biggest fears? Hell, do we even know each other's favorite color or birthday? The answer to that question is no. We don't. But one thing that I've found is that you'll never know someone better than that person that decided to sit next to you on the airplane on your way back home for the holidays. Maybe airplanes aren't the most intimate place to have deep conversations, but you're stuck with that person for god knows how long and chances are, you'll never see them again so why not open up and ask this person questions about themselves? I've met many different people when I've traveled by myself and I couldn't be more grateful for the opportunity I had to get to know these people. Ive met an old man from Australia who couldn't keep his mouth shut about a girl he had a crush on when he was twelve. He crashed his bike while she was sitting on his handle bars after they snuck out of their houses to see each other. I've met an older woman who found my college textbook about Confucius to be one of the most interesting books she's read after I let her borrow it for awhile. I've met a teenage girl who was traveling on her own to go see her family in Italy and told me about everything that she wishes to accomplish one day. I've sat with a boy I've met previously once before who I never knew had a thing for old cars and loves cold weather. But you know what the best thing is? You finally notice how people look at you. That old Australian man, yeah, he had the goofiest smile I have ever seen after I told him that he had one of the sweetest love stories I've heard in my entire life. Even as he shut his eyes to try to take a quick nap, he was still smiling. And when I could feel the older woman's eyes on me while writing my paper about Chinese philosophy, I caught her with bright eyes and the slightest smile on her face when i turned to look at her. That girl traveling alone, well, I don't think I've ever seen a bigger smile after I told her that she's going to accomplish great things in her life. And that boy I sat with, couldn't stop smiling no matter what I said. Every time I'd turn to look at him, I'd catch a glimpse of him smiling before he turned his head to hide his face. All I'm trying to say is, I wish that maybe one day, I could get to know you as well as I know these people I've met on the airplane. I wish that maybe I'll finally have the chance to see the way you look at me.
B.S.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 5:02 AM UTC
The simple is crafty,
It's driven by thriving,
It's cool and it's artful
Envisioning the sublime.
Allow me be simple now,
That's not outrageous.
All sorts of one substance,
All forms of dim treacheries.
A smooth olive sparkle,
Not the one with the edges
Abiding with the peeves,
Deeply drowned in dry Martinis.
Too diligent to continue
Because if a life is only simple,
It becomes completely unbearable.
Taste makes me feel all the complexity
Of it, but the simplicity is just a scale
At which I am capable to create.
Aug 19, 2022
Aug 19, 2022 at 4:41 AM UTC
You don't stay up late with me anymore,
While everyone else goes snore, snore,snore
Infatuated with a furball, and I can't blame you,
And there's no way In hell anyone can ever tame you
Oh you ******* flame you
Ill strain you, like white tea
Delicate an easy to burn
And honestly I think he,not I should get the first turn,
He did call shotgun, after all
Control myself, patrol the shelf full of air tight and light free leaves, what are you pet peeves ?
I pray to not leave like a band of theives, unnoticed and unwanted
And for the last few weeks my dreams,
Your god **** freckled fAce you have played the muse, I mean there different every night
But there's still a reoccurring theme,
You follow me every time I dream
Infatuated with a furball,
There's enough black and live from them for all y'all
They have arrived,
And a mother deprived
But they've taken the best to your scent, and they are alone like me,
Such small creatures in a grand scary world,
And again they are like me, stripped from comfortability and perhaps forced into conformity
And for the last time I am like them, black, and half of myself in the dark
I guess a couple people know the darkness inside
But I try and keep myself in stride
Except I am no sprinter and I trip upon my own feet more times then not
I wish dreams of you,
We're nothing more then a dream that became a true real life thought
**** everything I've bought
Since I've been here, especially that hellish hillsy dress that was an awful surprise
I can tell you are some type of grand witch
Despite a minor fear of your wiccanism
You have,
Unfortunately transformed into a completely complex unique,
Unknown organism,
Even Einstein could not Websterize the Shannonball
Because I, myself made It up
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Small talk has to be the most torturous thing. I want to know more than a one word description on how your day was. I want to stay up all night listening to when your next doctor appointment is and what it is you hate about yourself. I want you to be comfortable enough with me to tell me the things that keep you up at night. Tell me why, when you're alone, you play your favorite song from 2008. Tell me how it felt to touch her for the last time. Don't hold back, tell me what ****** you off. Tell me what your biggest fear is and what you believe will happen once we die. What is your favorite movie and why do you only root for the bad guys? When do you think the world will end? Who were you before you met me and what do you want to be when you grow up? Do you think a person ever "grows up"? What's your favorite color? Can you describe it without saying the name? What are your pet peeves? Tell me what's going through that mind of yours. Small talk is pointless because I know you have so much more to say
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
The one who grieves
the fallen leaves
weary eyed, closing eaves
they are taken by thieves
The one who believes
the fallen leaves
are a past he never retrieves
interfering with the life he weaves
The one who perceives
the fallen leaves
as parts of him plucked off his sleeves
an unfolding he peeves
The one who achieves
to see fallen leaves
as past gifts one receives
for the growth that relieves
Jan 17, 2010
Jan 17, 2010 at 2:29 AM UTC
You never liked the way I tapped my fingers against my mouth when I got nervous. A constant mirror to your father’s each night your mother didn't come home. Did you ever wonder about the man across town? Did you wait for her at the crack of your bedroom door because you wanted her to say goodnight? Another broken ritual you couldn’t piece together. Everyone leaving the back door open when they knew mom was never coming home. Did you realize a stranger might come and pull the trigger? Was that that what you wanted all along? Someone hums a song out of tune. Always out of tune. Always wishing that you were anywhere but here. Like you should be running away to Neverland because this home was starting to crack at the foundation. A campfire that slowly died out before you were finished singing Kumbaya. No one around to hold your hand and sway along to the beat. Didn't you always feel like you were born with two left feet? Like something about you didn't quite fit with the rest. You lived life as a puzzle piece that got put back in the box because there wasn't a spot for you left. But what you didn't notice was how you were just mixed up in the wrong picture. Someone long ago forgot to tell you how you were made of sunflowers instead of roses, and now you don't know where you belong. More lyrics to a song that has no music. A ship with no sail. A tree that can't grow leaves. Just a broken part of the whole. And no matter how many times somebody says it's going to get better you still won't make a wish when you blow out your birthday candles. People don't understand that the light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train carrying every person you have every tried to love.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
*In my drama class we had to right an, "I am/ I come" from poem/story.
We had to write 3 things on each of these categories: places, names, accomplishments, pet peeves, aspirations, fear, colors, foods, and religion. this poem/story is supposed to depict who you are, what your life is about. this is my story.*
I am the ridiculed, I come from eternal happiness.
He is my place, the safe harbor I run to often. That warm, soft place that invites me in, that which lives within myself.
He is my name, when people see me, I want them to see Him. He is the name I call onto when I'm scared or sad or even in my happiest moments.
He is my accomplishment, being loved by Him, and walking with Him is my greatest accomplishment, the only one I hold close to my heart.
He is my aspiration, all I aspire is to be like Him; be with Him.
He is my fear, I fear His mighty right hand and judgement. He is the fear that protects me from all of my other fears.
He is the gentle reminder to be patient with people, and forget my pet peeves.
He is my favorite color; the light to my life. I stand in awe of His brilliant colors.
He is my food, for He fills the emptiness in my soul, makes my heart whole again.
This is not my religion, this is my relationship with Christ. This is my walk of life, and I intend to walk it with pride.
I am the trees, shedding all my leaves. I come from the fall breeze enveloping me, the way His love does.
I am the lost and broken-hearted, my life cold and dark, which He has now lit on fire.
I am the ridiculed, I come from eternal happiness...
Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
We were like COMPADRES,
we've been TOGETHER SINCE BIRTH,
YOU WERE ALWAYS There for me,
you also knew MY WORTH.
You knew my EVERY THOUGHTS,
PET PEEVES and so MUCH MORE,
My (B.est F.riend F.orever),
is what I TRULY ADORE.
You were like (MY SHADOW),
OH WAIT!!!
That's what you are,
even when I WALKED DISTANCE AWAY,
YOU WERE NEVER, EVER TOO FAR!!!
When I felt COLD AND LONELY,
You were ALWAYS BY MY SIDE,
You STAYED RIGHT UP ON ME, and
You ALWAYS was MY GUIDE.
When I felt like I was ALL ALONE
the LONELINESS SEEMS to NEVER END,
All I have to do is: LOOK OVER MY SHOULDER
and there she is:
MY SHADOWY FRIEND!!!
B.R.
Date: 8/31/2024
Aug 31, 2024
Aug 31, 2024 at 2:39 PM UTC
They say your body is a temple
and that you shouldn't burn
it down. But how
can I not when all it
makes me do is frown?
My lips are too chapped
and my fingers too thin;
my features are the pet peeves
that get under my skin.
My eyebrows are thick
and my thighs are too wide,
and when I look in the mirror
all I want to do is cry.
My tummy isn't flat,
my nose is awkwardly shaped,
I somehow wish I could
find an escape.
My body is a temple and I
shouldn't burn it down
but I can't help
but want to be the one
to light the match.
(a.l.m)
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
THIS poem is number 800
Of poems I've "published" on various sites.
You might golf, play tennis or paint;
Of me they merely say, "He writes."
Eight hundred poems are a lot
Of poems if you are keeping score.
But bear in mind that poets out there
Have written hundreds or thousands more.
Writing can become a passion--
Something that grasps your innermost being,
That vibrantly exposes your heart
When you try to express what you're seeing.
My approach is sometimes light-hearted
And playful if I am in the mood;
And yet I can be quite serious
And muse on something or ponder or brood.
I often write poems that tell a story.
Call them unsophisticated
If you wish, but frankly I say
Sophistication is overrated.
After observing the world around me,
I sit down and roll up my sleeves
To write, often focusing on
Some of my most annoying pet peeves,
Hypocrisy being ONE of them.
Oh, the slimy hypocrites ooze
Flagrant chicanery, fraud, and pretense,
And every day they're in the news.
Some say, "Leave no turn unstoned."
No, wait: I mean "stone unturned."
And no, you can't please everybody;
That's an important lesson I've learned.
If you've read all 800 poems,
I've taken up a lot of your time.
I hope you've found the journey worthwhile--
This journey through my verses in rhyme.
But if poetry's NOT your thing,
Do not worry; I understand.
You'll receive no criticism,
No reproof, no reprimand.
Therefore, if you've read this far,
Celebrate along with me
This little challenge. Raise your glass
And drink a toast to poetry!
-by Bob B (12-27-18)
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
Perhaps the most misused and incorrect phrase, in any language, is:
"It's my 'PERSONAL OPINION" that.........................
"Excuse me! But, if it is YOUR opinion, doesn't that automatically make it 'PERSONAL.'
Just try saying, It's "MY OPINION."
richard riddle: 05-14-2016
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC
Officially, it's ***** day!
trust me, I would know
ranting and raving, often
never late, unto, that show
So toss it out, throw those words
complain, and vent emotions
stir the *** and release the hounds
giant waves, in calmer oceans
Peeves, diatribes, and wrath
express the anger, and dismay
discharging all the irritation
put it all, upon display
Rage at the machine
call it out, exposing every flaw
building in intensity
pulling your last, and final straw
If you won't, or if, you can't
know this fact my friend
your body, mind, will find a way
bringing fury's, end
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
You knew when I was happy.
You knew when I was angry.
You knew what I liked from the gas station.
You knew what annoyed me the most.
You knew my pet peeves.
You knew what words made me blush.
You knew my past.
You knew what I liked from McDonald's.
You knew what got me sad.
You knew what made me stubborn.
You knew my laugh.
You knew my smile.
You knew the quirks I did everyday.
You knew what was my favorite color.
You knew how tall I was.
You knew how I looked from the inside.
You knew what I loved about you.
You knew what I loved to eat.
You knew what to get me on my menstrual cycle.
You knew how to hug me.
You knew how to kiss me.
You knew how I liked to be touched.
You knew what made me cry.
You knew what movies I repeated.
You knew what cereal I enjoyed.
You knew how forgetful I was.
You knew how I clumsy I was.
You knew how to respect me.
You knew what clothes I styled in.
You knew my family.
You knew my anxiety.
You knew my body shape.
You knew what I was allergic to.
You knew you hurt me.
You knew too late.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
Innocent love.
That’s what I held in my heart for her.
My heart fluttered every time I saw her.
I remember the way her chocolate hair flowed in the wind, cascading across her shoulders.
I remember how she would do the most awkward things, how color filled her beautiful cheeks.
I remember the fireball she was, how endlessly loving and enthusiastic she was.
But I also remember how I noticed these things; sad things.
I remember how I could tell if her smile was fake by the twitch in the corner of her mouth.
I remember how my heart broke as I helplessly watched her deal anxiety.
I remember how she would always wear shorts that covered her thighs.
I remember how she would break down, how she would hate herself.
I remember the day that I told her about my suicide attempt and she told me about her’s.
I remember how I cried with her.
I remember letting her down, I remember picking her up.
I remember how we hugged that first time I saw her after she had gotten out of the hospital.
I remember how she was the only reason why I did not **** myself.
I hope I was her reason.
The thing is, I have only known this woman for a year but I want to truly get to know her.
I want to learn her pet peeves, I want her to tell me her life story and rant about it.
I want to help her. I want her to truly believe and know that I couldn't imagine the world without her.
I want her to know these emotions and thoughts that I can’t put into words.
I could think for hours and not find out the right mixture of 26 letters to express how important she is to me.
I won’t ever be able to understand how such an amazing person could hate herself and want to end her life.
I want to be there for her, to break any of those lies.
Because I’m in love with her.
I’m in love with her personality, her scars, and who she is.
I wouldn't change a thing on that astounding woman.
I am innocently in love with her. I want to fall asleep beside her, to brush the strands of deep brown hair out of her eyes.
I want her to feel loved.
I want to be the one that fixes the future and puts a peace of mind on the past.
I want to be her first love.
I love her.
I love the way her eyes have so much depth.
I love the choker that wraps around the base of her tanned neck.
I love her true smile, how it perfectly fits in her complexion.
I love her figure, regardless of society’s standards.
I love the little bows she expertly weaves into her hair.
I love the way she can make anyone smile.
I love her naturally weird nature, how she isn't afraid to be herself.
I love her story, how it proves how strong and amazing she really is.
I want to brush my hand across her cheek and kiss her.
I want to make up for all the times she felt worthless.
I need to make her realize how much better she is compared to these illnesses.
I want to make her feel wanted.
I want to be her first love.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Can I have a Penny for your Thoughts
Matter of fact how about 3
A penny for you
A penny for me
And the other one so I can get to know you entirely
I wanna get to know you from the neck . up
I wanna know what gets you mad enough to punch walls
I wanna know your pet peeves
I wanna know how far your smile goes when your smiling like an idiot
I wanna know if you sleep on the left or right side
I wanna know your favorite position. . In football
I wanna know if you even like football
I wanna know where you see your self in 5 years
If not 5 years, I wanna know what you're planning to eat tonight
I wanna know you're mind set when push comes to shove
I wanna know how long can you last..
In the intimate game of starring at eachother
I wanna know your shoe size.
Because if I ever decide to fall for you,
I'll be like yea he was a size 12
I wanna know what drives you crazy
I wanna know how far you'd take things . .
In Life
I wanna know if I were to kiss you,
Would you be Hard . . To get or would I already have you
I wanna know what gets you annoyed
So I'll make sure I'll annoy You twice a day
I wanna know if your good in card games
So we can play crazy rights until 3am
I wanna know if you ever been hurt
So I can show you that it's different
I wanna know if your ready . .
Because I already sat down and buckled my seat belt
I wanna know if one day I wake up to you, you'd tell me my favorite 3 words
"Are you hungry?"
I wanna know what makes your mouth water. .
I wanna know if you a are you full or where's the dessert type of guy
I wanna know if we're driving at 2am
Would you be able to tell me your hopes and dreams
I wanna know if your ticklish
So if your ever not smiling I get to make you smile
I wanna know if you prefer lights on or off. . .
When playing PS4 or Xbox
I wanna know if you sing in the shower
I wanna know if your into taking pictures . .
Because Id save all your silly pictures
I wanna know if you wanna make a movie. . .
Of a lifetime with me
I wanna know your insecurities
So I can love them the most
I wanna know what type of songs you listen to,
So when ever we decide to go on a road trip
We be bumpin
I wanna know if you get one of those little attitudes when your jealous
I wanna know how to never lose your attention
I wanna know if you'd be able to love me because I have battle scars
I wanna know if you think about me as much as I think about Honey buns
I wanna know if you look at me and say
"man she loves to eat"
I wanna know if you like silly nicknames
I'll give you something like Sugarpapi .
I wanna know if a writer falls in love with you, would you want to live forever
Because words never die
So therefore,
Can I have a penny for your thoughts
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
What if I told you
That when the going gets tough
You don't have to give up?
No **** Sherlock!
What if I told you
That you can hold onto something you care about?
Something that makes you crack a smile.
Cracked like dried skin
But all you do is brush it off
Because that is what makes you all sealed up.
Your x's give you a reason to lock up your house.
You shut the blinds to your beautiful mind and write poetry.
Well you keep writing poetry
Because that is way hot
Hotter than my skin temperature when I asked you on a date.
I feel for you pretty hard.
Hard like the diamonds that are scatted in your irises.
They glisten in the sun with your delicate hair
Getting in my mouth?
Baby I don't wanna have my way with you.
I wanna gain your trust
We would start with trust falls
Then move up to whispering in your ear
"There is a hair on your ****
I wanna know what peeves you off
And where you are ticklish.
I wanna laugh our lives away
I wanna hold your hips
Under the street lights that scattered downtown and say,
"I kind of like you miss, is it just me or am I ******* crazy."
Our ability to be spontaneous makes us feel alive.
I know how easy it is to give up
But the simple act isn't so fun.
I know you are going to hate this
But I’m not going anywhere
I’m not giving up like all of the ghosts surrounding your heart.
I'm going to be that one guy
That will picket outside your house
So you can open those blinds
And come outside
Now let’s kick back, relax
And let’s find out.
How on earth did you get those diamonds in your eyes?
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
sounds can testify the details of a picture
whilst unholy orbs can earwitness the vowels and consonants
beneath the smoke is an ibidem treasure
nothing but the end of the line of the coincidence
there's something about the heat,
the taste,
the texture,
and the rhythm,
that puts each creature in a strange addiction
it draws me in a helix composition
or a different compensation
and most of all,
i'm bottled up in a wild satisfaction
my mundane hours would feel extra deserted
just like my camel stick when it's unkindled
i might hate seeing―experiencing typical things
but never tired of this kind of habit that seems brittle
or a sense of rage, not even a little
because of every sip,
my piercing thoughts became a whistle
as soon as i light up a coffin nail
my veins will finally ignite, once again
the dark shack i'm in will be darker
but brighter in my eyes
then my lonely spirit will be lonelier
but i'd have unseen friends in disguise
the subdued toxins will shatter in ashes
but it won't break like my positive qualities mixing in the air
turns out i'm not sniffing the exasperating scent
merely engulfing the ache and the rasp regrets
my peeves shall drown in my foggy statements
letting my weight float through the clouds
mind's hazy,
vision's blurry,
tears shiny,
and heart's happy,
yet the sadness would still creep when the last breath's out
the aftertaste should be really more ravishing
similar to the catchy tunes of 'offonoff'
feverless, manipulating, non-colorless
and especially, not quiddity-vanishing
the nicotine never fails to send me over in a mnemonic mess
directing me in a festinate loop in so many ways
the menthol touch wouldn't be as cold as the other people nowadays,
but when they ask, they'd question;
"what was the song, by the way?",
i'd stumble and fall with my laconic disorder
inside my head like a wounded cassette
then i'll answer,
it's cigarette
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
When you first start dating
All the imperfections and pet peeves
Fly right out the proverbial window
You don't notice the way they
Chew with their mouth open or
Leave their tooth brushes by the sink
You don't notice how bad their oral hygiene is
And you convince yourself the
Loud snores they make while you
Lay wide awake are endearing
What you really don't notice is
How short tempered they can be
And how they can snap at you for simply
Pointing out the clothes on the floor
Or how they don't communicate
Their problems well
How they are flighty and accidentally
Interrupt conversations
And you certainly don't notice how
Unknowingly demeaning they can be
Towards you at times
How they can make you feel insignificant and
Minuscule when they never meant to
But now I am seeing all these imperfections
Flaws found like a scratch lottery ticket
Each day scrapes off something new for
Me to win
Like the way they leave the tooth paste
On the counter
Or leave the gas on empty for me to fill
And each new day brings to light
My own imperfections
The way my room is a mess till midnight
When I go through a mania period
Or that I whisper during movies
Letting slip what I think the possible
Endings could be
That I can hold a grudge like no other
How do relationships function
With all these imperfections?
Why would you deal with someone
Who is so imperfect?
That’s the thing though
You aren’t “dealing” with that person
And if in some way you are then
You shouldn’t be in a relationship
You do not deal with love
You accept love
Talk to love
Try to help love
Your end goal is not to change and
Morph love into something
Unrecognizable
No, your end goal is to
Grow together and talk things out
To never stop growing together
To be there for each other
And to be honest with love
Not to hide how you feel about
The constant chaos of the clothes
And the toothpaste leaking out of the tube
Do not hide from love
Or you will lose it
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC