"progressively" poems
I am anorexic
Not that you see that or anything
Not yet
I look healthy
Jubilant
Happy
You think that all the problems stopped after
You took
Tumblr away from me
It didn't
If anything things got worse
Progressively Slowly
But steady and sure
So here I am
Weaning my stomach and mind
Off of the food I
Gorged on previously
And I have found myself
Not losing weight
Which is depressing
And sad
Especially to me
Because more extreme measures
Are going to be taken
Measures that you won't know about either
But as long as I can see my hips
Then I am happy
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
A widespread condition
related to nutrition
is lactose intolerance
that is in essence
the inability to digest and assimilate
the milk sugar-lactose-the substrate
that is acted upon by lactase-
the specific enzyme
over a period of time.
This may happen suddenly
and generally
at any age most unexpectedly.
Lactose intolerance
is caused by the absence
of the enzyme lactase
that breaks down lactose
to the simple sugars-
glucose and galactose.
The condition may be
secondary, congenital,
or developmental.
Secondary lactose intolerance
invariably has its occurrence
related to a gastrointestinal infection
and its disappearance
is linked to the causative factor’s correction.
This type of intolerance-
(certainly a nuisance)
is reversible
if we are a bit careful.
Congenital lactose intolerance,
an inherited form of intolerance,
is a rare genetic abnormality
that one can unearth
soon after an infant’s birth.
This need not cause any fear
as it lasts only half a year.
Developmental lactose intolerance
also known as primary intolerance
is one wherein the enzyme synthesis
is progressively less
during childhood
and this persists into adulthood.
Gita Ashok
24/10/2011, 2 pm
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
It’s the way colors would taste if you could eat them. White would taste of contentment, yellow of happiness, purple of infatuation, red of passion, and pink would taste of endearment. Pick your poison; they’ll all be the death of you in the end.
It’s the way it smells when it first begins to rain. Its aroma lingers like vanilla, fresh linen, or an open flame that’s sparks kiss your fingertips. It clings to your clothes and in your hair to be smelled by others around you. To some, this scent may be too strong.
It sounds like complete silence amidst a roaring thunder. It’s at a frequency only you can hear and comprehend. It’s a ringing in your ears that leaves them throbbing or the echo of voices when you’re submerged in water --- starting loud and progressively fading away with the sunlight that rests on the water’s horizon.
It’s the way butterfly kisses feel, faintly tickling your cheeks when they’re damp with fresh tears. Or the way your body shudders at the touch of a cold hand and your temperature elevates, leaving a numbness where fingers traced over your skin.
It’s the way a sea of grass looks when you’re crawling on your hands and knees. It’s the sight of two hands clasped with fingers intertwined. It’s what causes your eyes to widen when you see the expression that lingers on her face when she thinks you’re not looking. The look that says all that can’t be spoken with words.
It’s all the power that lies within that four letter, one syllable word. The word that redefines every one of your five senses. ..
Love.
Love may be like a lot of things, but it’s not like falling. I never fully understood the expression “falling in love” --- probably because it isn’t accurate, and doesn’t make sense. Falling is what people do on a daily basis --- love is when someone catches you.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
We had recovering drug addicts come in
Talking to us with their sunken
Ashy eyes
And sweaty palms
You could tell they were nervous by the
Way they carried themselves
Cinder blocks and
Broken piano parts
And their pasts
All clinging to them,
For life support
They talked about how easy
It was to let gravity eat you alive
As you are falling into a black pit
You can’t stop the falling
Their wings were bound to
Pseudo lovers who
Gave them bruised arms
And blue fingers.
If you are lucky enough to
Escape the clenched hands of
Addiction,
The rest of your life will
Be a walking tightrope act
Trapeze dancers
One slip and you are falling
Even faster
Harder than before.
And your family, friends,
Everyone you have ever known is
In the audience watching you
Fall into your premature grave
And there is nothing they can do
But tell you to fly
But you cant
Because you just love your
Mistress too much
To ever let her go.
And they warned us about
How hard it might be to say no
To not let the circus come into
Town, but if you do
Only you can pack up the
Lions, clowns,
Colorful balloons.
Someone asked them if they
Believe drugs should be legalized
And he responded with
If I walk into a gas station
And see drugs for sale I will
Not be able to hold myself
Upright.
But I also do not want a government
Establishment to tell me what I can
And cannot ingest into my body,
So I don’t know.
Newton’s First Law of Motion
States that something will keep moving
Unless some force acts upon it.
And once you start drugs
Or gambling
Or skipping meals
it will progressively
Worsen in time.
Festering in bloodstreams
Until you decide to stop it.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
Where am I?
I don’t recognize this dark place,
Where cold arms have embraced me,
Clutching at my heart. My body’s inner-most core.
I have issues breathing,
This simple action I did without thought before has now become a painful challenge.
It feels as though I am drowning, being pulled deeper and deeper, where the water just gets progressively colder.
My chest is tight, my lungs are straining.
Once things were so simple.
Where have I been brought to?
I don’t remember heading for this place,
Nor even have the slightest memory of wanting to travel here.
No, not the smallest fleeting memory.
Tears are a constant threat now.
Always there, ready to burst free from their bleary prison.
My throat, being squeezed from some unknown source,
Gives me hardship when I attempt to speak.
To say out loud what it is that ails me.
Instead, I am unable to,
I refuse,
To allow someone in.
The fear of being ridiculed at the tip of my mind,
While forbidden thoughts and longings are stored in the back.
There are no words, can be no words,
To express this immense confusion.
This lack of direction…
Where…am I?
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 9:19 PM UTC
In a far away forest there was a bear who felt very blue.
She simply could not snap out of it, and didn’t know what to do.
There was no reason for this sadness, her life was going well,
But at random times in every day, tears would start to swell
This feeling kind of scared her, but even more than that,
It made her feel embarrassed, like some sort of selfish brat
I don’t know why I’m like this, she constantly thought to herself.
I have no reason to feel this way, I have my legs, my sight, my health
There are bears in other places who have lost their homes to fires,
And baby bears in situations that are absolutely dire.
But these thoughts did not allieviate her internal pain,
In fact they only made it worse, topping sadness off with shame.
While she wanted to go talk to someone, to find out what was wrong
She settled for self-medicating, taking hits off of a ****
This helped her out a little bit, at least for a short while
But it was not a real fix, to say so was denial
So this went on for months and months, getting progressively worse,
And the bear learned to carry the weight of it, bending to this curse
She became her toughest critic, her own worst enemy
An ugly, unlovable idiot is what she thought herself to be.
I can’t tell you what happened to her, I simply do not know
Maybe she’s still out there somewhere, just putting on a show.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:21 PM UTC
*Soft underbellies of corruption, impropriety and moral decay
Blatantly masquerade as societal bulwarks to aggression and disintegration
Minions fine-tuned to dance to the tune
Of godfather functionaries champion
Progressively retrogressive causes that follow
The course of destruction.
Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
Reason and logic persuade otherwise
It’s thus “safe” to conclude that
A compassion filled individual
Quintessentially embodies a positively radicalized individual
Wielding immense unbridled power
To impact society in ways unfathomable
Whilst in complete understanding of the fact that
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely”
Are you that compassion filled individual??*
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
When I leave this town of sticks and stones,
And make way through the thick, dense fog,
I will no longer feel anxiety pouring over me,
Will no longer be, a bump on a log.
When I rome free through the wild outdoors,
I will no longr contemplate my past,
The moment I achieve pure happiness,
Wanting the moment to forever last.
When I long to see my boyfriend,
I won't lie there foolishly and cry,
Because life is about diversity,
To progressively advance and try.
When I learn the true meaning of, "I love you,"
I will feel omniscient and strong,
Despite my hardships,
Whether right, or whether wrong.
When Im off to college,
New doors will open up for me,
Such extraodinary opportunities out there,
For such a dedicated, yet small me.
When I'm married to the man I love,
My wasted thoughts will leave my head,
I'll only worry about the choices I made,
The actions I took, and the things I said.
When I achieve my dreams,
Self-actualized, I'll surely be,
Hoping to some day become a legend,
With endless things to see.
When I'm eventually deceased and gone from this world,
I will have looked back and said I tried,
Tried to make use of the life God left me with,
Along such a beautiful, bumpy ride.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
progressively irrelevant, i write.
each strike comes, reverberating chords
in chambers all my history reveals--
voices forge a living thought, steam quietly;
truth is spent confronting hidden dangers
that, when alight between the flicker awe
our fire-starting letters linger still
to question ashen marvels of, phoenixlike
enveloping that subtle being-as
annulled to meaninglessness tolled.
a bare encounter with the void leaves off,
no symbols rally convalescent winds
for shaping form amenable to time--
rather, my lostness leads to this, and dies.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
sugar is bad for you
especially sugary thoughts
you cannot afford
like June is majestic
undulating ozone
from cumulus bones
in its flesh of light blue
masquerading airborne
around the skin
that breathes with beats
progressively arrhythmic
high from the feeling
but beware
for June hides its predators
beneath those waves
elating charm, its Siren song;
Because deadlines,
blood thirsty words
like “expiration”,“elapsing”,
and “due in”,
lurk with sharpened teeth
stalking the smallest of joy-fish
And all of this contrast
is masked with such skill
it remains underrated,
only frustrating to Juners,
for they know its extremes
and how smiles
cover anxiety
***
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
In a room full of emptiness I was sitting on my bed with my back resting against the wall. All my routine work was completed before time as usual and there I was sitting doing nothing, staring straight ahead on the wall which was colored blue. I had asked them to do so because I loved this color since it always exuded the stress in me, drained off the disturbing thoughts and opened gates for blissful ones. But they never came.
What came to conquer me was lostness. This lostness maybe is productive if one is lost in a good thought, or, in a world of the past or the future, or, in his own created world, creative or perhaps destructive or perhaps peaceful. But I was always lost in a blank world. A world, where nothing existed. A world where no one walked on the streets. A world where no music was played and due to that I couldn't imagine myself dance because of which I couldn't make new dance steps. A world where I couldn't see faces smiling, where colors existed in their pure mixed form, that is White.
But if I give a second thought, I am thinking all this, about what it feels to be blank.! So it shows I just used to think ******* when this beautiful world of blankness came to me where I can create whatever I want and whatever I like, where miracles can happen. Or maybe a world will take birth to be cradled in my thoughts showing me my desires, aims or maybe those facts that are necessary for me. All I needed was Concentration. But I didn't know how to do so. My brain was now an expert, a trained and professional one in being frivolous. And then I felt a pen fidgeting with my hand. Then my hand, with the help of the reflex sent by the brain who, this time, obeyed the conscience inside it, started translating the thoughts into words. Words, they always betrayed me before when I took their shelter. But that was my fault. I only took shelter widout any hint of giving them respect. But now as the two best friends, my hand and pen, were trending together to make history, these words had the tone of pride while residing themselves on paper, and their look was inspiring when read successively. A guilt always resides in me for the precious time I wasted being lost, but the content of overcoming that lag progressively always consoles the insides. Concentration is all you need for anything you want to do or have in your life. Beginner I am, but, I dont want to see the end. I would just like to enhance it as much as possible.
MH
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
The surrounding tunnel gnaws at my eyes
The sliver of light progressively smaller
Progressively dim
I lose my way in the labyrinth of a straight path
Blinded by an unadorned world,
There's no up down sideways or backwards there just is.
Pushed along by gentle metallic hands that scream lullabies at me
Deafening my thoughts
Murdering them with distractions,
Disguising nothingness with false purpose.
I've lost the ability to move my own feet, I don't belong to me
I'm just riding through the tunnel
I am no longer sure that there was ever an exit,
The light at the end has gone out.
They've turned it off.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:16 AM UTC
In your ship of
white sheets
you set the sail
you leave the shorelines
of consciousness
and begin to drift
from the docks of reality.
First you cast your fantasies
then your visions
in hypnagogic imagery
cast you
as you wait for the winds
to take you
into the currents of unconscious seas.
what do you see?
what do you experience?
Those living memories
of
other places
other times
other lives
a string of faces
a hotel with many rooms
and no exit signs
and
as you open doors
on different floors
you find
yourself
at different ages
on different stages
familiar terrors
sometimes vivid
make you shutter
falling into
quicksands of blood.
On the roof of this sea
you take flight
and are free
when you hit the heights
you're in your car
with a stranger and me
we give you directions
and
at each turn progressively lost
panic sets in
late for work and can't find the way
your GPS
keeps pointing to the fact you're here.
Small craft warnings come and go
the lighthouse beckons you back home
to the shoreline and the dock
but first you crawl into the
arms of the sexist soul
you know
as your finger tips touch
this night's
journey is done
as
your alarm
sings out
The Four Seasons.
Headlong to the shore you ride
your breath is taken away
you throw your rope to the dock
of reality
and have that moment
of longing and wonder
when dreams can be life
and
life can be dreams.
A big sigh.
You've bought your ticket
for
tomorrow night's voyage
where it will go
you just don't know
but
when you get there please let us know.
You get out of that
cozy warm white sheet ship
and
put on clothes
with the sunrise
and
the half cut moon
your traveling companions
into
your awakening.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
Like the percussive beat of a drum
Ba-dum-dum
“Dumb as a post,” she says.
“Doesn’t know when to take her shoes off,” she says.
Because what are you doing, tracking dirt in my house
Under my roof
Unlike your friend who knew
When it was time to behave himself?
“You filthy slob.”
And I think, “What about Bob?”
A ****** ****** who was just so gosh-darn
Lovable.
And even if you haven’t seen that movie
You would know
That it’s the ones who can’t stand still
And who stick their hands in flames
And who grind their brains
For answers
Who make the world go round.
And round and round
She spun her snippy little tongue
Without even a break for air.
But who needs air when you’ve got sand
Filling up your lungs
In the arid desert.
They call it Death Valley for a reason.
I’ve never been
But I heard in the summer months
The temperature maintains a balmy 120 degrees.
I’ve been absorbing the heat ever since I could
Make heads and tails of her
Ba-dum-dum.
So here we are at round two.
She says it’s preferable to be sitting in one place
Because the jabbering jaw is where all the exercise comes from.
And the winner will be declared when there is no more ********
Coming out of the other person’s mouth.
Well that’s ********
I’m not sitting around waiting for you
To throw blades at my head
And expect me to just take it.
I also can’t fake it.
I need to get out of here, don’t you understand?
Your hand has abandoned the idea of holding mine
Long ago, I know.
It serves a more physical purpose now:
To make me regret
Standing up for myself.
Ba-dum-dum
She’s still going at it!
Not hard to believe,
Since she’s gotten half a life time of practice with it.
Ba-dum-dum
It’s gotten progressively less steady.
No longer the even pulse that I was able to
Drown out earlier.
Ba-dum-dum
There she goes putting emphasis
On things that don’t matter.
I’ll be heading towards the door now…
Ba-dum-dum
Let me just –
Ba-dum-dum
Can you move please?
Ba-dum-dum
I’ll take that as a “no.”
I sigh. Not yet at the point of resignation somehow.
Ba-dum-dum
MAKE IT STOP!
Ba-dum-dum
Ba-dum-dum-dummm
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
What are we to make of one lifetime? Any given lifetime? Is there a goal for everyone? If there is, clearly each goal is not necessarily the same as all the others, though it might be the same, or at least similar to, one or more than one. If there is no goal to any of them, then what is the reason we live? That would be nihilism. Why, in fact, has the human race propagated for untold millennia? In some respects, human life has evolved progressively positively, but in many other respects, it has devolved disastrously. The way each one of us has lived our lives is a function, I believe, of whether we were loved enough, if at all. If we live a loveless life from conception onward, we wind up unconsciously compensating for the emotional dearth we have suffered by accruing wealth, achieving fame, aggrandizing power. If we look at the 3,400 years of recorded history, there have been exponential advances in warfare, but humanistically relatively few by comparison. As of 2023, there are 10,000 diseases that can and do afflict us, but only 500 cures for the ones to which we fall victim. We have been fighting countless wars against our fellow man and killing millions and millions and millions of them, but discovering an exiguous number of cures for illnesses that often **** us. Why this gross, this grotesque, disparity? And we now find ourselves on the cusp of extinction from catastrophic climate change and the existential threat of nuclear holocaust. So, are we here on Earth simply and inexorably to destroy it and all its living creations? Or are we going to have soon enough a worldwide epiphany: to begin and never stop realizing that first we all need to be loved to love others; that there is but one land, one sea, one sky, one people; that the boundaries that now divides us are not on maps, but in out minds and hearts; that while we live on a small planet, it is big enough for all of us if only we are first loved so we can then love all others.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jul 22, 2023
Jul 22, 2023 at 12:59 AM UTC
Step 1: Legalize all drugs and treat their possession as a public health issue, as is practiced in Portugal
Step 2: Get all nonviolent drug offenders out of prison and (A) into treatment when dealing with harder drugs like meth/coke/heroin (B) get the *** growers some jobs doing what they're good at, and watch as the extra tax revenues progressively revitalize both local and national economies. (1)
Step 3: Fill the new vacancies in the nation's prison system with the entire US government and the top 1% of income earners as punishment for their hubristic crimes against nature and humanity.
Step 4: Forgive all debts and redistribute all of the assets of the aforementioned parties among the entire population, but especially the impoverished classes, to create socioeconomic balance.
Step 5: Decentralize the economy and rebuild it along the lines of federated, autonomous municipalities, based on common ownership of economic resources, free education and healthcare, and participatory democracy. Once this is done, we can let the former government and 1% out of prison. (2)
Brought To You By: Homunculus For President (but not for very long, because being an authority figure would sort of contradict the entire essence of the society I just described) 2016
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 3:48 AM UTC
every thing about this world is angry.
the way it progressively
hurts and tears its people
and the way we all take it
get used to it
value this hurt.
or the way we get choked up in love.
and caressed by its sharp-clawed intentions.
when we get excited
really excited.
and no one else is there
cheering us on.
or if they are
they care more about
their own victory.
people impress others
to fit in,
or to try and prove something.
but the only thing they prove
is how much of a ****** person
they have become.
this world is full of it.
anger
hate
vile thoughts
and we're trapped.
there is no way out.
not even death can take us away.
so we stay.
and we deal.
and destruct
because that's what the world wants us to do.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
I find myself in a reality thoroughly mired;
Hard wired to this dire strait of a habit: to remain inactive;
Actively, though, I find myself being rendered blunt,
Thoroughly ineffective.
Effectively seeing my being contorted into shapes ignoble;
Progressively rendered moot,
Thwarted by my avante garde a la feeble.
And as I face that reality, really all I want to do is
Relay these reverberations that
Go thump! thump! whenever we meet;
Convey these fizzles that turn my stomach outside and in
Whenever we share an embrace to greet.
Can I rely on my grammar to share my emotions?
Or are her stories old news now?
I guess what I'm saying is:
Can I speak?
Can I, nay, may I deliver my formal interjection?
That my emotion towards you is still a subject;
That I'm hoping in my heart that the idea of "us" does not
Come across as abject;
Or imitate a noun and become an idea that is abstract?
Because what I'm going for here is for our souls to find contact;
And as I fill these blank spaces with hope;
What I hope most for,
Is that my sincerity really comes to the fore;
That you understand that I'm not here selling dreams and lifestyles;
But rather that I want to bring them to life before your eyes.
So can I speak?
Can I tell you of the hope you carry?
Can I tell you of the joy you bring?
Can I speak? Tell you everything?
If not, can I at least tell you
How crazy you drive this thing? (point to heart)
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
at the bottom of a stagnant lake
lived a dead forest
black trunks standing
knuckle deep in muck
branches simply armature
for a fluttering array
of gray scarves
blowing in the watery wind
molds and aquatic plant life
growing quieter in near darkness
the forest laid down years ago
gave up the sun and the breezes
the same arguments from the same birds
slid back toward the sandy edge
then gradually leaned over
one after another they followed
under the forgiving cover
of progressively longer nights
a very slow migration
the stars really weren’t watching
eventual full immersion
nothing left uncovered
but the land around the lake
the gray water always present
became all any tree could remember
oxygenating the murk for a while
the contradictions grew
in place of leaves
instead of hopeful young twigs
stanchions indicating nothing
huddled together under the surface
standing sunken in an air more dense
a different kind of time passing
light arriving but
only in soft whispers
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
party pooper hijacked the heart throb,
the party progressively got rotten-
till the day break.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
The names they have called me echo around in my head,
reminding me of who people think I am.
But it's not like I got to choose that anyways.
My words can't affect their view of me,
but their words can affect the way I view myself.
Weird.
You said you were just joking.
That didn't make it hurt any less,
even though I claimed it did.
Then you moved on to calling me "limited edition"
because you thought weird was too hurtful.
It still hurts because you meant weird every single time you called me limited edition.
You moved back to weird eventually,
I think.
The names continued,
progressively getting worse and worse until you started calling me things I dare not repeat!
Oh, but I was laughing?
It was to keep the tears from falling because God knows that makes me a crybaby.
I thought we were best friends, and I was obviously wrong.
The only reason I stuck around you was because I had no one else.
You called me gay for hugging someone I thought was a friend at her birthday party.
Sweet little unforgettable thing.
You thought you could slide that one past me,
but I put the first letters together;
I know what you meant,
even though I have no idea why you'd call me that.
I've never had a boyfriend,
much less a first kiss.
Dumb.
I never really understood this one;
I'm top in my class.
That didn't mean the names didn't hurt,
because they did.
I just didn't understand.
This next one wasn't exactly said with words,
but I got the jist when you wouldn't let me hang out with you and your friends.
I wasn't cool enough.
I.
Wasn't.
Cool enough.
Little did you know
that your words continued
to plunge themselves like knives
into my vulnerable spinning wheel
of a heart
until you hit the bullseye
and it exploded into a million tiny shards
that I can't even begin to pick up.
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
An arrogant frost begins to melt,
dripping from the red shingles
onto the progressively muddy ground,
where dark green lines sprout,
erasing the icy past.
Slow growth of small buds
colored pink, red, yellow, and white
take the dream of warmer days
as a twisty hot mirage
strikes the distance.
Life shakes the leaves off the tree,
as all turns bitterly dark,
orange and brown,
and crumpled up on the sidewalk,
chilling down to the beat
of the pidder padder of rain.
Warmth is removed from sensations,
colors fade from a distance to white,
glazed with the purest icing
as the world turns a new shade of grey,
colored only by the feeling of crystals
glimmering like diamonds.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
He texted me last night saying he really misses me.
This was probably after work, but I don't know for sure.
I haven't contacted him in two weeks.
He hurt me and found pleasure in teasing me.
But I'm just confused because he's (ex-boyfriend) still contacting me,
Not like an ex-boyfriend should.
I'm still going to ignore him because I'm progressively moving on...
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 5:09 PM UTC