"pisses" poems
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo,
the three of them frozen:
Enrique by the world of beds;
Emilio by the world of eyes and wounded hands;
Lorenzo by the world of roofless universities.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three of them burned:
Lorenzo by the world of leaves and billiard *****
Emilio by the world of blood and white pins;
Enrique by the world of the dead and abandoned newspapers.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three of them buried:
Lorenzo in one of Flora's *******
Emilio in the dead gin forgotten in the glass;
Enrique in the ant, the sea, and the empty eyes of birds.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three in my hands were
three Chinese mountains,
three shadows of a horse,
three landscapes of snow and a cabin of white lilies
by the pigeon coops where the moon lies flat under the rooster.
One
and one
and one,
the three of them mummified,
with the flies of winter,
with the inkwells the dog ****** and the thistle despises,
with the breeze that freezes theh eart of all the mothers,
by the white ruins of Jupiter where drunks snack on death.
Three
and two
and one,
I saw them disappear, crying and singing
into a hen's egg,
into the night that showed its skeleton of tobacco,
into my sorrow full of faces and piercing bone splinters of moon,
into my happiness of whips and notched wheels,
into my breast troubled by pigeons,
into my deserted death with one mistaken wanderer.
I had killed the fifth moon
and the fans and the applause drank water from the fountains.
Hidden away, the warm milk of newborn girls,
shook the roses with a long white sorrow.
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo,
Diana is hard,
but somtimes she has ******* of clouds.
The white stone can beat in the blood of a deer
and the deer can dream through the eyes of a horse.
When the pure forms sank
under the cri cri of daisies
I understood they had murdered me.
They searched the cafés and the graveyards and churches,
they opened the wine casks and wardrobes,
they destroyed three skeletons to pull out their gold teeth.
Still they couldn't fine me.
They couldn't?
No. They couldn't.
But they learned the sixth moon fled against the torrent,
and the sea remembered, suddenly,
the names of all her drowned.
20.5k
Hey
I’m sorry if I interrupted your class with text messages
because you hate putting your phone on silent
it’s just that I should be there with you
laughing at your confused faces during Calculus I and
staring at your look of sheer concentration during Creative Writing
You were always the poet, not me
But it’s 1pm and I’m stuck in Calculus with someone else as my partner
who doesn't get nearly as confused as you and puts me to shame
which ****** me off because you would never correct me in Calculus
and so I can’t help but wonder who your new partner is
Is she smarter
Is she funnier
Do you quote Shakespeare to her like you did to me?
Is she better than me?
There’s no doubt that a. I ******* it all up and that b. you’ll move on from me
because you were always the popular one, I was the antisocial outcast that most people barely
tolerated
For some unknown reason you decided to become my friend that faithful day in
Calculus I
and ever since then you became my 3am conversations and midnight laugh
I depended on you much more than you did on me
I cared so much more
and maybe that was my fatal flaw
because if I hadn't cared so much
then maybe I wouldn't feel like screaming and throwing my partner’s textbook
at the teacher
but I did
I cared too much; against all warnings not to and now I’m wrecked
then again, I always was in a way
I just didn't know it
You told me that it didn't matter
that they couldn't separate us; no matter what
that you would never let me go
and you kept your promise
but I can’t keep mine
The words “I’m sorry”
come to my head
but those aren't the right words
because I’m more than sorry
I’m bleeding
I’m crying
I’m devastated
I’m torn
I’m broken
and perhaps that’s why I can’t keep my
Okay?Okay promise to you
because no, I am not okay
and you deserve so much more
and this is not okay
me lying to you through a computer screen is
not okay
me putting my gashes of regret on my arm is
not okay
me making you wait only for you to find a fraction of the girl I was is
not okay
and that is why
today during Calculus I
I will finish this ****** poem
and excuse myself and go to the girls’ bathroom
and cry my eyes out after sending this to you
I should end this with a ‘goodbye’
because there’s no use giving you false hope
but I can’t bring myself to end there
so I’ll just say something
and hope that you still remember what it means
P.S. I’ll always love you
(h.l.)
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
I think the world is ending
and I really wish I didn’t.
There’s a rat under the floorboards
and a knife inside the kitchen,
and in the alley by the bins
a man there ******
The streets all smell of *****
and ******** indecision
has us riddled
in the middle
of our end and our beginning.
In the town a politician
with a jet black tongue
licks the seal on our decisions
without every truly listening
to anyone.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
A few years ago
I would not have expected
That my sister would someday be my best friend
We used to constantly bicker
Actually
That still happens every day
She ****** me off to no end
But I can’t hold a grudge
Especially not against her
And she always somehow
Resolves the problem
By making me laugh
Until my sides ache
There is nobody else out there
Who I am this comfortable around
And I sincerely doubt
There could be anyone else
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
Nothing ****** me off more
Than when people call me
Pretty
I get it, okay?
We live in a society that upholds beauty
As the most important quality
A girl can possess
So girls who aren't pretty
Feel like less
And guys, knowing this,
Call girls who were not gifted
With a symmetrical face
Proportional features
Or a "rockin'" body
Girls who rank on the lower end
Of that wretched scale
From one to ten
Pretty
Beautiful, attractive
**** exquisite
Gorgeous, lovely
Stunning, hot
And those girls
Those amazing, ugly girls
Infused with insecurities
Self-loathing
And sadness
Give in to those words
Give in to those guys
Believing, if only for a brief,
Tenderless moment
That those pretty words
Do apply
But I am not interested
In false accolades
If you don't find me pretty
Then don't say so
I have plenty of fine qualities
For you to compliment me on
Praise my wit, my charm
My intelligence, my confidence
Things I cultivate
Things I strive to be
Qualities
That complement me
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
Dear ************
This is the hateful letter. This is the one in which I tell you how much of a ******** you are and how I am so much better off without you, so thanks for leaving me. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. This is where I tell you that you’re an idiot if you ever thought I depended on you for my self-worth, because I don’t need you for validation, and I never have. I was trucking along just fine before you came along, and will continue to do so without you, so you can go **** yourself.
This is the part where I call you a ******* for saying all those things you said. If you weren’t trying to hurt me, you must be an idiot to think that it was a good idea to say what you did. I’ll tell you that it ****** me off to realize that you obviously didn’t know me as well as I thought you did. It ****** me off that our communication was clearly not functioning like it should have been.
And I’ll tell you how ******* livid it makes me that you just sat there and thought and thought and ******* thought about this while I was still writing ******* poems for you. I am angry at how oblivious I was, which I also blame on you. I blame you for being so introspective and quiet, for needing to think important issues through in your head, only with yourself, before you can voice them, and I am angry because you thought and thought and ******* thought and made a decision that was logical from the inside of your head and you were confused by my reaction because, surprise! Owen’s-head-logic is not the same as Katie-is-being-broken-up-with-logic. And that’s where your speech faltered, where I stopped saying the lines that you wrote for me in your script, and that’s when all of those stupid words came tumbling out of your stupid head and things continued to not go as planned and it all eventually cumulated in this: zero contact. I know it’s not what you wanted but you’re a ******* If you were smarter about it, we may still have been talking, but you said all of the exact wrong things. So I am angry at you for hurting me with your idiotic words, but I am also angry at you for pushing me away. I may have liked to still be talking to you, but all of the **** that came out of your mouth just ruined whatever chance we could have had, so way to go. You are a ruiner - and so concludes the part where everything is always your fault.
This is the part where I understand where you’re coming from, I would have broken up with me too if I were you, I know it’s hard for you to put your words together sometimes, I know your (brutal) honesty only comes from a place of love, I know you love me, I know you miss being my friend…and so on.
That last section makes me sadder than I am willing to be at this point, so I think I’ll stick with anger for the time being and you can **** my nonexistent **** ************
Your Ex-Girlfriend.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 6:33 PM UTC
I'm not like the other guys.
I can't escape this it always finds me,
I try hard to stop it but there's no stopping.
I can't fight it off because it's not of my control,
It's how other people think and I'm just a fool.
I can't escape what others percieve me as,
I just be myself and I guess I'm an ***
I don't understand why I keep getting pushed down,
I am the nicest guy I know and yet I'm being like all guys around.
I try hard to be the best and the opposite of the others,
But it seems like in the end I'm just like my twin brother.
I'm nothing special and I'm just an idiot,
Don't feel bad if you've called me that I'm used to it.
My dad would say I'm a failure at life that I need to just see,
I tried to block that out but that's exactly what others have shown me,
I'm nothing special and I'm just like the others why even try?
It's like every girl I come across would be better off if I die.
I'm the guy that will cry when I'm told something wrong,
It's probably because I've held all my emotions in for so long.
I know there's great times but then there's the bad,
and when those bad occurs it just makes me really sad.
I'm not lying when I say I try **** it I try really hard!
I don't want to be that ******* of a guy that ****** in peoples yards!
I try not to be that horrible guy that plays 2-3 girls,
I try not being that horrible guy that's ***** rules his world!
I know that I think with my brain or atleast I say I do,
I'm sorry to all if I've ever hurt any of you.
I'm reconsidering what I've thought from the first time this happened,
I might just delete this account and that's just going to be the end.
Please don't be mad or sad, don't tell me to stay.
I'm probably going too anyways,
I'm just trying to smile for once again this is my escape,
But how can your sanctuary be something that's worse in a way?
I love you so much, I love you all I'm not lying.
But I can't stand the girls that turn their backs on me,
Because inside I'm really dying.
I'm not an emo so ***** all of you if that's what you see.
I'm just someone confused with this site,
Who can't stand all the fights,
I want this to be the place that's right,
But soon it'll take over my sight.
If you want me to stay, then show me that im diffrent,
Make me know, im not like the others,
I want to show guys here, that im diffrent.
Tell me should I stay?
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Dear Sasha,
A war is coming,
I am aware of its gravity and I don’t know if I am ready,
To answer your question in your last letter,
Why do I cut so deep?
It’s because I know how words can cut deeper than any sword,
Don’t give me the bull **** that,
“sticks and stones can brake bones and words can never hurt you”
Sticks can snap your bones,
But words can snap your spirit and mind,
And these times are hard on my spirit,
“Time heals all”
but these wounds will take longer
So don’t tell me words don’t affect my life
If someone sits there in your face saying,
Your stupid and irresponsible long enough,
Torturing you constantly with their literary daggers,
You start to believe it,
You start to feel,
As much as I want to shrugged it off,
It weighs me down,
This curse called empathy,
A curse of a pacifist,
I take every word to heart,
And it ****** me off,
I know I am not what they say,
But this name tag on my uniform is all I have left of my identity,
I’m not sure if It’s true,
But I can’t help believe it anyway,
Don’t tell me to shrug it off,
Cause you can’t remove these battle wounds,
If you keep chiseling at this stone pillar it will crumble,
Letting loose my dogs of war,
I cut deep,
Cause I know the strength of words
I follow the golden rule,
So don’t make me use these literary daggers,
to leave lasting marks on your psyche,
Cause trust me I have,
And I can rip apart your world and all of its glory,
Cause I was trained to do so,
Make you doubt your identity,
cause mine was taken,
Cause it’s easy to make my pain…. yours,
But that would be too easy.
I will turn these daggers upon myself,
Because “If you have nothing nice to say don’t say anything at all”
If you are struck down,
You want to strike back,
These words and thoughts don’t just disappear,
These arrows are sharp and drawn,
I have to let them go somewhere,
Ill cut and stab myself before I hurt another,
I’ll take your pain for you,
No matter how much you don’t like me and try to tear me down,
I will not lash out,
I will not strike back,
Because that would make me no better than you,
I will cut myself before I cut you,
I cut myself so deep,
Cause I get over the pain,
The scares stay but the pain doesn’t,
As I finish this letter the anger has already left,
“you’re only as happy as you make yourself out to be”
So I will take the full force of their swords,
because I won’t dwell in the pain,
So I am going to move on from the hate,
So why do I cut myself so deep?,
because I know now I am strong enough to take it,
Yours truly,
The empathetic warrior
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
i hate road rage in canberra because
i hate road rage in canberra because
mostly the road rager is at fault
i hate road rage in canberra because
because my mum was just turning and some dim wit sticks his finger up, how rude
i hate road rage in canberra because
it ****** me off immensely
road rage road rage i hate road rage
cause the road rage person doesn’t know what they are talking about
it’s not just road rage, ya see ya see, it’s everywhere
you say something or do something
and someone sticks their finger up at you
like a good little **** would actually do
road ragw road rage road rage sux
the only rage i like is partying late at night
you see i am a middle aged rager
i rage all day long but when it comes to road rage, na, not for me
i party better than any of these road rage people
the road ragers are just a pack of old stick in the muds
they think they are cool, sticking their fingers up
but in hindsight, they no nothing
you see i hear the loud hey, but that is from people who like road rage
which i ain’t, what is wrong with hating road rage
that is why i don’t drive, i am a kid and the road ragers are old fogie men or women
i have road rage in canberra because, nobody wins, it’s all just a waste of time
i am glad i don’t drive, i am a cool kid mate
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
I'm restless like a low-class little nothing. Or a something. Or something, I don’t know. I tried to run away when I was twelve. I kicked puddles, ate a package of crackers, came home. I wish I could come home now. But he doesn’t kick puddles, he kicks the stairs loudly when he’s drunk and can’t walk up. He stains the mattress when he ****** the bed. He calls me from the gas station at 4 am saying “I love you baby, come pick me up.” And I shouldn’t, but I will. Will I? I will. And I really want to come home now, I miss the comfort of my warm bed and your soothing hands and would you make me tea when I am sick? I know I’m older, but let’s please forget. He fights and get cuts and scrapes and scabs and bleeds them onto me and I don’t think it’s gross. I think it’s gross when he tries to make love to me. and it hurts. We are not one, we are two. Making love, the term makes me laugh. It’s called ******* I think. It’s not like in the stories or the movies or the fantasies, ******* But this is what grownups do, right? Smoke cigarettes on street corners and don’t use condoms and eat ecstasy like aspirin and sweat and dance and collapse and come home and cry. Because they used to be the good girls, right? Was I a good one? Oh, no, I really want to come home now. Plane tickets are gold and he is too afraid to fly and too afraid to let go of my arm. The bruises are okay, I like the shape they make. It reminds me of a horror movie. I used to not be able to watch them, I was too young. You won’t be able to sleep, you’d say. But I can’t sleep now and I think I might still be too young. I want to come home now, can I please?
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
The apartment hasn’t been cleaned for so long and has housed a depressive in it for the same length of time so that there is a glaze of slime-dirt on the floor, made of dried coffee, hot chocolate, maybe some **** or some spillage from a tube of steroid cream to treat an inflammation that never really goes. The rate of ooze changes?. Clean textiles are piled up on the floor, never having been folded, and mix here and there with ***** practical fatpants that make me look like a geologist and white-white cotton blankets that can be washed on HOT with lots of bleach that I purloined from some mentalhealthfacility. The inbox is full of—is bristling with—remonstrances from Programs for the Nondoer—you haven’t filed, haven’t turnstiled, haven’t had your hologram chip assessed by central CENTRAL intelligence, what is wrong with you. Upon stepping outside there is a beat during which I think maybe somewonder might swirl and buoy but no, just wethumid and ***** sidewalks cruddy and Haitians and quasi-Haitians muttering “taxitaxitaxi” in front of their Gypsy conveyances with their dubious certifications. I should go for a ride in one, a dubious passenger for a dubious palanquin. I tried the library but it was too hot and decrepit and too filled with Books For African-Americans, which always ****** me off; are only African-Americans going to read Wright or Douglass or Brooks? Everyone is overrated, anyway, movies and theater and the moribund beat of commerce, and as the dangerous autos pass, sometimes not running you over, you can see morechange in the pockets of the shareholders of BeePee and Iacocca Coach-Wirx. Any friendliness exhibited seems to contain an underovertone of You’re Not Included Whiteboy White ****** Ghost ***** all archaic names I’ve been almost astounded to be called usually while balancing on tiptoe on some lurching, roaring dieselbus, grinding past off-off-off brand groceries that do a dubious business. While making my police report I wink at a sevenyearold boy and I get a lustrous wink back butalas this is not enough to beat back those slurrycolored brainfazes.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
Let me straddle your mind until I'm confined
to the empty spaces you refuse to acknowledge ,
taking hostage the inhabitants of this grand mental escape ,
I equate this mission to landing on the moon - you consume
every fiber of my being I intrude ,
wishing to know what you are thinking
it sort of ****** me off when you choose *** over celibacy
just assume it's my jealousy I'd rather have your mind than head
as we lay here in bed I listen to the breath that escapes the dark carven of your lips ,
you kiss me so softly with vocabulary I hear clearly how deep you crave me,
such a sweet sentiment from a sapio ******
someone who can fornicate my mental with intellectual ,
you eat out my riddles and digest philophosy
have me shaking feeling close to God see ,
we get bare naked to the truth
Exposing absolute equations and reasons why , I sigh .
Gagging on your brilliance
you present such increments of human creativity ,
swallowing your mysteries
stroke me close and slow
fill me to capacity with the knowledge of you
tell me the truth you love to **** me
with your words You encourage this insanity
This perplexing wet whirl of words gushes ,
and i demand to see the length of your lyrical havoc
I wish to kiss and grab the sensual sentences you string together
& nothing could compare to the pleasure when we intertwine our minds .
It's ridiculous how meticulous you are with my mental
we lay there , gasping sinful in sections of ecstasy
i watch you vividly , react to my melodic passion
i hold on - grasping my fingertips around your brain
you dig deeper and in pain i give you my vunerability
I .LET . YOU . FEEL . ME
speaking languages I forgot i knew
yet I know I cant dispute
our connection from confessing the truth
you sparked theories bigger than any bang
articulating art using slang
we decode out way of conduct
it was just pure luck we ****** through conversation
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
There are many limitations sometimes. Of course these are only restrictions we place on ourselves, but we groom certain communities to fulfill a certain appearance and dismiss the breakers of unspoken rules. Don't drop the status quo.
Paradigm.
I want to write and not write about things. I don't know.
No, I do know. I want to write without the stigma that these topics bring.
I want to write a poem about Facebook. See how much appreciation that gets.
Poetry about Facebook won't be liked often.
Write about how it ****** me off that your ex boyfriend (that I dumped, by the way) has a new girlfriend with better taste and better photography skills than me. Remember how I made fun of his ex's for that? They're doing that about me now, I stomped on his heart. I teem with insecurity thinking about it. ******* selfish, I feel like a *****
How I'm tired of being self-depricating because I don't want to seem like an ******* I've come a long way as a person and I'm not allowed to brag about it. I'm barely allowed to take a compliment or I'll look like I'm preening.
Write about how I'm tired of being kinda ugly sometimes.
Write about how I had *** with someone, how when I told someone else, I could see them and society drawing a big **** crown of judgement, and how that's ****** I wish we could all grow up.
I wish I could explain that my apathy is, to a certain degree, purposeful. Because looking at feminism articles every day made me feel like **** I felt like a victim constantly, and I alienated myself from making friends with normal people because I was an extremist. I got tired of constant misery and misinformation. The feminist community was cannibalistic too, and I don't think I wanted to make friends with such hyper-aggressive people.
Write about how I want to be a writer and how I can only write three sentences and then I look at the screen hopelessly. How lame.
I'M SO ******* NAIVE BECAUSE
I want so badly to be different in a better way, but I know I'm just the same.
I want to be able to change the world and I know I can't,
it doesn't matter anyway.
I haven't been able to cry in three months. I'm tired of trying to find my brand of catharsis.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
Breathe and breathe and breathe for me
I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you
This world
This life
The love and happiness
All in your eyes
Breathe and breathe and breathe for the best of things
Breathe and breathe just breathe for me
Read and read and read its right
Think and think keeps me up all night
The words that push and push with every sight
I’m going blind from the thought… alright.
So breathe and breathe and breathe for me
We know I sure as hell cant do it decently
I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you
I can’t get enough of this green
Sight all filled with blue
Open my eyes- open to you…
Just another night, no sleep in slight
Bad rhyming ****** me off
But this music is soothing
And I get so inspired thinking of life
Breathing is so hard
Holding me back
To many people around
Only two can share solitude happily
In the best of company
How the cool air rest upon my skin
Delicate and white never known what sun is
Soothing, breath is still missing
From my lungs only retrievable from love…
But that is far, now close enough for now
All there is, is hope
But hope is held in God, if you believe in him
What a lie of course you do
I see it you just need to speak it.
Maybe think about the breathing for once.
Easy to forget when its not a loved one.
Yes I did that and yes I did this.
But I did it cause I obsess just a little bit.
I don’t care just move out of the way,
Please pilot,
I’m done with the west, fly east for me.
I wanna see the stars that you can never see in New York City
I wanna be in the limits of the devils play ground
With you holding one hand
Jesus gripping the next
Who cares if I sound crazy?
Every great artist had their thing
I can admit I’m rambling
With incompatible ridiculousness
But it’s true to say,
I can’t breathe today
When I can never breathe
Can’t breathe until this life grants me with a touch
And the **** tree’s will always be
**** Iowa.
It’s only in between.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
Goodnight pumpkin, I luv you. L-U-V U.
Dear mom,
Nothing ****** me off more than misspelling the word Love.
If you’re not willing to put two seconds into a text or even a letter
to spell it correctly, then you need a ******* dictionary.
The only time you looked into a dictionary was to find words big enough so they could fit through ears but not into my brain making it easier for lies to flow out of your mouth like it is second nature.
The only truth that ever spit out of your mouth like lemon juice, was when you told us, not all lives have happy endings.
But when you were still here, and I was only eight,
you let me watch disney movies so I could learn my own fate.
One of the movies taught me that if I said Ohana means family,
that you’d respond with,
family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten
But you left your kids to pursue Your happiness,
Now every time you leave to Pennsylvania another memory of us flies away from the airport you call a body just like the planes you get on,
Your lies create a tornado that destroys everything in it’s path,
and my life is a flat ground so this spiral of emotions won’t stop until you do.
You circled your yin-yang arms around me for the first time in the hospital, that was the same night people in white coats handed you a certificate with my name written on it, Now anytime my name is brought up in a subject you pull your hoodie over your head as a sign of embarrassment.
I want you to feel the pain you have been giving me for the last 2
years when you hear this poem.
I want you to realize that you’re the reason my feelings are
scribbled down to make a mess out on paper.
Every night I make a new river with my tears and when I realize you are
lying to me, it makes waves of depression
and those waves, are created by earthquakes of anger.
These waves are strong enough to break through any hoover dam
made up of antidepressants and pills that will only make me what
you want me to be which is “normal”?
If you tell someone you love them at least have the audacity to
mean it.
Be a the definition of a mom and care about us and our
feelings, and not just your own.
Mom, I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U
Ohana means Family, but no one said family would last forever. But
you always will last forever, in my heart
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
I can't really coherently put my thoughts in to words but I need you to know that I still miss you just the same..
I talked with my psychiatrist today. He says we make up scenarios in our heads and months from now we will tell our own version of our story. He told me I shouldn't still be here, waiting for you, and I got so angry. I was so frustrated that he wasn't listening to me. He wasn't understanding how honorable you are or how we are different from other couples. How with us, it's always been us. But then I remembered, denial is the first step in grieving a loss. I have known that you are gone, but it still doesn't seem real
Soon, I'll be pissed. Not like now, where I get mad and then sad again, but I might actually feel over you. Doesn't mean I will be, but for the time being, my heart will feel some relief. You have made me so **** vulnerable. When it comes to you, I can't tell if my emotions cloud my judgement or not. And that ****** me off too
Next, bargaining. I will plead and plead for you to come back. I will bargain anything just to feel loved by you one last time. You, of course, decline
Depression will kick in. I'll wonder what I could have done to make you stay. I'll wonder if my constant begging drove you further away. I'll need your reassurance, but it won't be there
So finally I'll accept it. I'll accept you there, me here
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
You have always found a way
to inflate yourself,
a thunderhead of you
a rainer upon parades
keeping your own side dry.
Praise your portolio,
record yourself accomplishing that,
but wait, there’s more of you
the lost boy
dressed as a hero.
The prison of ego comes first,
then the crippling psychic wounds
and the inevitable chaos
that just ****** you off
because there is just too much to manage
and you cannot do it alone
but you don’t dare tell anyone
so you fake it
and you don’t make it
and one day
while you are too busy
refusing to be grateful
for the awesome mystery of your own chi
a tagger defaces your BMW
in the parking lot of Whole Foods
and you weep into your tofu.
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
Spending intangible dollars at the mercy of my ever growing appetite,
Instead of buying my ticket out of this perfectly advantageous country,
Which focuses solely on my beauty and money.
I neglect my inner advice telling me to drop it all and run,
To where I can breathe and focus on God,
Promoting a healthier way of living and improving humanity.
Momentary hope that unrealistically characterizes perfection
As a quality that I can mentally download and miraculously make the above, true,
Never seems to linger long enough to actually induce action,
Which leads to disappointment draining the motivation essential to recover my missing pieces,
Which pushes me to crave cash I don’t have, to pick up that dose,
That hushes the unwarranted guilt that seduces me into thinking that I’m not incredibly blessed,
And that I can’t handle what I’ve been dealt,
Blurs the doubts I have about my abilities, my self- worth,
Forcing me into a state of content that awakens my creativity,
While vaguely being able to make out memories of let down led by myself and my mother,
Who was a part of what was never good enough for my idea of a perfect family.
I’ve wrongly accepted that a mediocre life-performance is to be had while following the crowd,
While obsessing over flaws that are negligible to my true purpose in life,
And with that I’ve become stifled by the decision to remain effortlessly stuck.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
Folks these days are either evolutionists or creationist while I kick back self-proclaimed suicidal ideationist.
I've got bigger fish to fry than some issue with a racist, if politics were even crazier I'd be a proud pro auto-felatio-ist.
But I don't like politics it tends to get people bitter and my ex-girlfriend ****** glitter.
I'm damaged and you know I'm a god **** sinner. Still sitting at the table screaming where the **** is dinner?
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
Dear Sam,
Your ex
Who happens to be my best friend
Opened up to me the other day
About how they used to resent me
Because of the way you treated them
When I entered into poly with you
Which is entirely understandable
Especially considering that you
Decided to tell them something big
While you guys were out with friends
You just couldn't wait to tell them
That you didn't think that you were poly
Because you thought you only loved me
Yet I never heard this from you
**** I never even saw it much
Whenever you complimented me
You balanced it with one about them
Which I thought was fine
Because they're a really good person
Little did I know that you were
Being so abusive to them all the time
While telling me how much you love them
I think what ****** me off the most
About all of this ****
Is that I felt that I was done with you
I stopped thinking about it all
Either I'd processed all I needed to
Or I was repressing all the damage
Because you caused a **** ton
But finding this out?
It makes me so ******* angry
Because you had them believing
That things were great between us
And made me believe the same about you two
While you emotionally abused and
Deeply manipulated both of us
On such a level that
Certain songs give me anxiety
And I get flashbacks of you
Of us
Sitting in your house in the dark
The only light coming from candles
Music playing over the speakers
An ambient setting that
Holds so much pain
From both positive and negative experiences
Yet those don't even feel like memories
They feel like something I saw in a movie
Because by the end of those long 6 months
You brought me so close to the ground
That I still taste dirt when I breathe
I hate that you're in my head again
Because I was fine before this
Before hearing even more
Or the torture you put them through
And how the pain you inflicted on me
The pain that causes dark anxiety
Upon seeing any Jeep vehicle
Paled in comparison
To the ways you abused and hurt them
How ******* dare you
They were nothing but loving and caring to you
I could've screamed with joy when they left you.
I hope it burns.
I hope you know you're abusive.
I hope you think of us often.
And I hope you get help
And never do this ever again.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC
Of course I'm okay.
Fine actually,
I love metal music
What ****** me off
is the notion that because the musics loud
and the lyrics are different
something must be wrong
Metal music is a family.
its riff laden roots are dug deep into the roots of my family tree
when I crossed that muddy bank I brought all of me I could.
Except,
I forgot my family.
I couldn't bring them through the mud.
I couldn't bring them desert mountain air
So when I miss them just a little too much,
You can bet I'm gonna put on
Slayer or Megadeth
to drown out the pain of an empty house
That heavy emotion
resonates deep in my chest and it fills my lungs
drowning out the words I cannot say.
Words like I love you,
Words like I wish you were here
Words like I miss you.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
Went for a long drive with a close friend we talked I expressed my anger and frustration. We talked religion movies and music was the topic of discussion. My faith is with god and I feel only he could judge me. I don't preach but focus on doing right all the wrong doesn't bother me till it starts to pile and topple over in my direction.
I've become a movie guru since I quit drinking. I've become somewhat antisocial and do not care for drama or involved with ppl who do bad. I can't look the other way it's better if I never face that direction.
Music helps me write I enjoy the greats and soundtrack they help give me direction also setting a mood. I try to be happy but someone alway ****** me off
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC