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"pillies" poems
I tried to be Insta-famous Insecurities celebrated Half naked, for the attention High on pillies, money, vacation With every notification Filling the void behind my left breast I worked for it With body goals like this Rock solid abs Icon: fire and 100% A whole snack A girl that don't crack Strip on that pic Like Cardi B on that pole Dancing around men With the only goal of getting rich Hurt them Slight curl at the corner of my pillow lips Ruin them Feed the feed with self-admiration It was the meds or was it? Inner ego Remain incognito Only every other photo Only then you can show How you could work that camera phone
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May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
Hello, ego
the drama unfolds and the young grow old while the old go with a curse I myself am grown into my fifties and the people I’ve known who called me Little Boy have been called to dust and urn and to river over the decades; and the kids I would kneel before to speak with them now they say: Do I see you with hunched shoulders? the earthly hours pass and generations come and go with little knowing though of their own flow the drama unfolds and the young grow old while the old go with a last bite of a fried chicken places have changed and villages and forests lain bare and once where I stood admiring angsanas and mango trees and peacocks now I admire lilly-pillies and hold the koala and the kangaroo as mascots; people I have called mother, father and uncle and aunty and grandmother they now have gone, some without even a good-bye some smiling and some with unintelligible mutterings and ah, some in unendurable suffering while I walk now as time unfurls like a flag in the square; and the witnesses of uncountable generations of immeasurable life those stars and the sun and the moon keep me quiet company and the sunlight uses the leaves in the garden to whisper to me the secrets of things; and in my leisure these words I speak to you and when I’m gone through these you may speak with me; and the ones I have told stories to now re-tell the stories to their young and time, interrupting its slumber, lifts its head like a garden in the snake awhile sees all is right, all flowing as it would expect, and looks around and gives me a look too and goes back to sleep; ah, the drama unfolds and the young grow old while the old go with a wink
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Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 8:17 PM UTC
the drama unfolds
the drama unfolds and the young grow old while the old go with a curse I myself am grown into my fifties and the people I’ve known who called me Little Boy have been called to dust and urn and to river over the decades; and the kids I would kneel before to speak with them now they say: Do I see you with hunched shoulders? the earthly hours pass and generations come and go with little knowing though of their own flow the drama unfolds and the young grow old while the old go with a last bite of a fried chicken places have changed and villages and forests lain bare and once where I stood admiring angsanas and mango trees and peacocks now I admire lilly-pillies and hold the koala and the kangaroo as mascots; people I have called mother, father and uncle and aunty and grandmother they now have gone, some without even a good-bye some smiling and some with unintelligible mutterings and ah, some in unendurable suffering while I walk now as time unfurls like a flag in the square; and the witnesses of uncountable generations of immeasurable life those stars and the sun and the moon keep me quiet company and the sunlight uses the leaves in the garden to whisper to me the secrets of things; and in my leisure these words I speak to you and when I’m gone through these you may speak with me; and the ones I have told stories to now re-tell the stories to their young and time, interrupting its slumber, lifts its head like a garden in the snake awhile sees all is right, all flowing as it would expect, and looks around and gives me a look too and goes back to sleep; ah, the drama unfolds and the young grow old while the old go with a wink
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it is sad to realize that my life is so dependent on painkillers. it seems as though every lecture i sit through the thought of alleviating my pain crosses my mind. doesn't matter if it's the common cold or a stab wound ill still seek to make myself feel better.
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Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 2:34 AM UTC
poppin' pillies
Pop ‘em pillies OD on my pellets, I know It ain’t pretty: Experienced, suicidal Gotham city All up in head I rave, yup Desperate times I will show you how bad I gave up Shovel in my hands I’m digging my own grave You don’t understand It’s too late to be saved Falling for the trap To be poisoned, no comment There’s no turning back Let’s pretend I’m a rodent Pop ‘em pillies Pop, pop Pop ‘em pillies Pillies It ain’t pretty The ways that I **** me I’m my own pest control And I dig my own grave These are just one of the ways To show you how bad I gave up
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Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 10:04 AM UTC
Rodent (Gave Up)