Spades Jun 17
I tried to hug my mom the other day
But instead of hugging me back she said all I do is cause her pain
I was at a lost for words, I didn't know what to say
Then I went to my room because she told me to get out of her face

As I walked to my room I didn't know what to think
That pain is inexplicable when your own mom doesn't want to speak
I crawled into my bed feeling lost and weak
It was a struggle to breath forget eat or drink
So for two days straight all I did was weep and sleep
Because I couldn't get rid of that feeling when my mom lost faith

I got in an argument with my dad it was the same story
But unlike other writings this story will never be boring
Because I was called young, dumb, stupid and a dissapointment
They always hated me but I mean who could blame them

Because all I ever do is fail no matter how hard I try
Because I can never fix my problems no matter how hard I try

I've lived to learn that my parents will never be happy no matter now hard I try

But my days of trying to make them happy are finally over
My days of causing pain will continue no longer
Because after today no one will suffer me growing older
Maybe it didn't have to come to this if I was a little stronger

Suicide is usually an unhappy memory
But honestly no one even deserves to remember me
I'm sure the world will be a better place when I'm not here to see

Because all I ever did
Was make the world hate me
I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse to be alive right now...
AS 6h
Life is not free,
it comes with a cost just to breathe.
The expectations not to be emplaced on the seed.
Judge for how they choose lead.
Punished for how they believe and chose to breed.
Marked and abandoned,
for choosing to see and to move away,
to reject disgusting displays.
To be shown disdain for following their own way.
Blamed when they choose not to stay the same.
Cost of the invisible chain,
placed on the terrain of birth.
Dependent to the pain,
to the mother who reined.
Tossed away when finally mirrored the destructive game,
patience snapped and apologised for the same way the birth-maid acts.
Distanced to detached,
to move away from the shame.
A promise made when a little babe,
to never be the same.
Shocked on the way,
they pushed patience down the drain.
Enacted by refusal to be the slave,
to take the blame and defend the endless plague you enrage.
Expected to be thankful,
guilted to stay in line.
Manipulated every time the attempts to  fly.
Co-dependently wrapped,
to give meaning the way in which your life lacked.
An ear to smear all your hate,
fear and tsunami tears.
Flooded in your pain,
you  the victim and to take no blame.
Born a parent in the early days,
cleaning and protecting you from the dirt you spurt.
From the countless monsters in which you learnt.
that you ever witnessed that level of madness.
Not to be kept to your past tense,
to swallow and drain with your inner hallow.
To clip their wings,
as for only you they can sing.
To demand,
offended when the glove is on the other hand.
To not poison others land or be offended when they flee.
When the hunger to find serene,
suck dry for too long.
Came to a point,
grief hidden within the earthly core finally exploded.
No longer naive,
willing to adore or ignore.
Needing to breathe,
to speak,
to burst out what has been hidden underneath.
To truly breathe,
to find reprieve.
To heal from the demons which deceived.
To unfreeze the mind,
from all the other monster you missed slip by.
Not to be told that I lied,
because it breaks your god damn pride.
Not to be hissed at or dismissed,
for what you missed.
Life has been,
was what I owed,
for being brought up and given food.
The basics to accept the rudeness and being clueless.
Don't give birth if your child does not come first,
don't let them bleed to feed your own needs.
Recognise they're a child,
not a friend to take care after you've gone wild.
Not to be confined in places they seem wise.
A child is a gift,
not someone to heavy lift.
Not to manage your whims.
As a child do not owe,
no entitlement to treat them low.
Rid of your countless rules,
the one's incredibly cruel.
Those only practised by the few,
the ones who spread the blue,
to those who surround.
Unable to find stable ground.
Life should be free,
in this way you see,
it cannot not be.
Children deserve to breathe,
not to have them mentally disciplined onto their knees.

© 2018

Abigail Sheard
Poetry is my release, a place to reveal and heal.
To Saint Patrick who got  
rid of the snakes in Ireland.

To The Pied Piper who got
rid of the rats in Hamelin.

To Pierre Cardin who got rid
of the socialists in Lacoste.
Lacoste is a village in The Vaucluse
Provence France. Monsieur Cardin
purchased 30 houses and the Chateau.
The Savannah College of Art and Design
own 50 properties. The Frogs have leaped.
Emmky 3d
We've known each other for long
But still, you can't say a thing
That would define me
What's that spark you see?

Well, I don't know
You have no clue what lives inside my guts
No way you could see within
So why are you still here, wondering who's under the skin?

I don't want you to get dirty, finding out who I am
Coz there's a lot of shit inside my head
And much more vomit in my heart, both can't be replaced
No point in cleaning it up, trust me I've tried many times before

And I don't really need you
To see the mess
People around me have done
Coz you've helped them too

I'm sorry that it's true
And there is no cure for me
So don't try to find it
Or else, regrets will hunt me down
Because you've wasted your time not only
On me, but on my issues, too

How many times have you cried because of me?
How many times you wished you were dead
Because your feelings were accepted but not given back?
Tell me, I'll listen before I go, disappear on the quiet bubbly road

There's bulimia in me, I figured it out
Vomiting feelings I've once accepted, not able to answer them
And now giving them back in the nastiest way possible
Covered in dark bubbles, smelling like death

And I would kneel by the toilet
Throwing up all the things I didn't mean
But said with a smile, hoping you'll be glad
Because we are friends, right?
It leaves bitter taste that stays for days
And I can't help but think

Why do they try to see the darkest part
Where everything is messy and covered in blood
Examination of my fakest smiles leads them to realization
There's something wrong with my heart

And I appreciate that you care, yet
I'm sick of it
I can't handle feelings of others and
That drives me insane, needing more shots
So I could spit all the mess out from my mouth and get rid of it

You really are there when I need
Thanks about that by the way
But you can't heal a bulimian heart
That's sick of all this attention that
You're giving me

It's not your fault, it's just me
Knowing people who get too much attached to me
Will get hurt
So my brain starts fighting against it, leaving my heart with a message

Don't let them in and if you do
Get them out like stomach does
When it can't handle the food
Don't play it nice

Still, I can't help
But don't want to hurt you
Yet you're difficult
So now I'm standing here
Saying these words I've made up
Of what I threw up
For the girl and boy who grew too much attached to me
skyler 7d
maybe we should keep our distance

hearing your laugh was hypnotic
and i forgot how it made me feel
i forgot how your voice sounded
how it eased my heart beat
but also got it racing
i forgot what you looked like when you laughed
how just seeing that made me happy
i forgot what is was like to hear about your problems
how just hearing you talk would rid me of some worried thoughts
i suppose i made myself forget about you
but hearing you say "i miss you"
brought tears to my eyes
because frankly
i miss you too
and i forgot how much i did
how much i still want to be with you
how much i still love you

but what i didn't forget
is i can't have you
you are far gone
and of course
those were just your drunk thoughts
you are in love with her
i am just your friend
and we are over
i did not forget that
it just doesn't change how i miss you

Shona 1d
“You’ve made me feel like shit, again,” I say
to myself mentally,
Aiming it more so towards my anxiety
Yet again.
Another snooping situation, mixed into the
incapability of walking away.

I can’t leave things alone.
My mind wishes to know every ounce of
detail but I, personally, don’t really care.
I want to write, sleep and live freely
without a form of worry blanketing me and
stopping me from breathing in deeply to
calm down.

However I let it do what it pleases,
regardless of whether I’m stuck with a
depressed feeling and sorrowful tune
surrounding me.
I tell myself, “You just have to ride through
it.” And for the first time, it’s easy,
But after that it becomes tiresome and
boring and all you want is for the feeling
to go away.
I am the only person who can make it go
away, but I can’t.
I hold onto it unintentionally, as if a part of
me will disintegrate if I let go.
And so we fall into a never ending cycle of
my anxiety,
Where I ask myself continuously “When will
it end?”
And my mind tells me it’s not entirely sure
but that I should be grateful for what it’s
giving me.
That it’s giving me safety and
cautiousness, helping me not to be
percieved as too naive.
But I don’t care for that much anymore.

So instead of ridding of my anxiety,
I’m always ridding of those who
unintentionally and unawarely have
created it for me.
It’s easier to be rid of you physically than
of something within my own mind.
Hayley 1d
Cough syrup
Leaves you dead
Filled with kodine
I leave a note filled with
Tears & love
This is not your fault i reapeat
Over And over
like a catchphrase
After I have written my last words
I sneak off into the darkened bathroom
The shadows in the corners
Amplyfiying my anxiety and the darkness in my head
The emptiness of my bed
After a moment of hesitation
I bring the bleach bottle to my lips
the mint smelling liquid burning away
the skin on my soft lips
I hold the liquid on my tongue
Oh how it burned
Oh how that first drink burned
I sip two more times
Two more times
The flesh of my tongue
And throat
I cough and gag
I walk back to my room
I am not dead
Suddenly as I sit in my lime chair
A red gleam catches my eye
Cough syrup prescribed to me
Months ago
Three teaspoons gone from it
I unscrew the cap
Guzzling down the vile liquid
The smell, and taste enough  to make me gag
I down half of the poison
Letting it purify my insides
I smile for the first time in days
Finally free from
Burdening all who care for me
I stand my body diminishing from the inside out
My once pink insides
Now dyed a bloody red and happy
Happy to be rotting
After a few agonizing hours of awaiting to  become a rotting corpse i stumble to my kitchen and examine my mom's set of knifes
Each one has sharpened teeth designed
To cut me open like a tender cut of meat
My eyes gleam in childlike wonder as I try to pick which one will slice my veins
I choose one like a kid choosing candy
Selective and critical
Finally i pick one and slide it quickly d across my wrists
I am shocked at how much blood comes pouring
From my wounds
But i quickly become addicted
Addicted to my blood
Addicted to the pain
Addicted to the thought of my death
After several cuts
I walk to bed to see if I can become a corpse in my bed
When i awake
I am dissapointed and relieved all at once
Relieved to be alive
Disappointed to be alive
Over the day my sticky red insides
Reject any nourishment
Expelling any of it through my mouth
My thoughts run a mile a minute
I find myself unable to focus on anything
My muscles feel ghostly cold
Meanwhile my skin is boiling hot
Once my mom comes home
Rushed to the hospital
Ordered not to fall asleep
in the rumbling car
But all my tired brain
And sticky red insides want
Is a permenant
But i was never given that sleep
That oh so sweet release
Water was washed through me to get rid of
The toxic red in my system
Now my insides are pink and truly happy again
Happy to not be rotting and decaying
Happy to be alive
I let you control my life for 6 months & for what?
Just because you were the only source of healing that I could trust?
The pain that life has caused me makes it hard for me to balance
& nobody knew about this, I kept everything private
They don’t know how you called my name at 2am, I came running
just for you to stop that pain that never stopped running
I crushed you up into powder before I poured you into my drink
fucking me up so bad to where I couldn’t even think
You chose a weak soul to manipulate, I fell for your comfort
all because I couldn’t bare with the feeling within that made me suffer
You made me crazy, you made me lazy
had me feeling low like your feeling was all I ever needed
You were supposed to be a one night stand but I got attached to you
felt like nothing else mattered & all I needed was you
You can do no wrong to me, only supply the perfect cure for me
when I needed that love, it was you that was there for me
Anxiety, depression, anger, paranoia, you made me feel forget it all
had me flying above the clouds when life wouldn’t let me do anything but crawl
Why did you do this to me? Why is your loving too resist?
Why am I so attached to something that make me feel under like this?
You’re that demon I can’t shake away but you’re the source that takes my pain away
& ever since I accepted your love, I’ve watched everyone walk away
You said you loved me yet you’re taking my life away
killing my system as I keep swallowing your substance away
I had 2 ways of getting rid of you, either overdosing or flushing what remains
just to go back to facing my demons by punching walls til my fist gets blood stains
So here’s to you, my bad habit of pain killing pill popping drug addiction
may you rest in peace forever, here’s my benediction
I've never publicly admitted this to anyone but a few years ago, I suffered a pain killer addiction. I was popping 20 pills a day & even mixing pain killers into my drinks to numb whatever I was going through. Just hope this helps someone else out with their addiction or their struggle with addiction
i've went off on my own now
but you will always have a special place in my heart
my heart will still flutter at the sound of your name,  
for it will wake up the parts of me that have long been asleep
i've taken your photos off my bedroom walls now
and stopped listening to your favorite song on repeat
it's the little things that bring you back to mind
two people holding hands along the trail by your house
laughing like we used to
someone singing a little too loudly like all of the times i listened to you singing your favorites in the shower

everywhere i go someone or something reminds me of you and with every thought,
                            i shiver.

i imagine you think this is a love poem, but it's not
rather a poem of remembrance

i've went off to walk my own path now
but you will always have that place in my heart
a place that you pushed and shoved your way into,
a place tainted by your fingertips
fingerprints that are like the lipstick that stains your lips
long after you've removed it

i've gone my own way now,
but i will never rid myself of thoughts of you
no matter how hard i try
250 Surf

And into the driveway it takes it for a ride, come on take on this lifeline, and feel it from below, moving up and moving jag, one more for free when I buy nine won’t you put it in the bag- the people are freezing, the zig is at the zag, all the people are screaming, won’t you let them in the back? Come on won’t you feed them, and tease them with a zap, catastrophe seething, relaxing in the bath, suffering or maybe fucking squeezing, pick me up from the airport we’ll go driving in the Jag, you’re already mostly in the bag, I light up a square and light a second for you man, light one up for the girl whose sitting in the back. Her hands are freezing, her lips are turning black, a lamp standing on a suitcase, Earl Grey and Lavender, she’s got fanny packs and sunglasses, she’s gotten ready for morning class, it’s a gas, a blast, from the past, trash and she’s fucking reeling for a squeeze, she just wants a taste of the past, I laugh, I laugh, I laugh. Put a stamp on her legs, touch them and turn up the volume on the amp. She’s got it, she’s not it, she’s winning playing tag-

Come on won’t you feed them, and tease them with a zap, catastrophe seething, relaxing in the bath, suffering or maybe fucking squeezing, pick me up from the airport we’ll go driving in the Jag, you’re already mostly in the bag, I light up a square and light a second for you man, light one up for the girl whose sitting in the back.

We’ve arrived wearing new things, they think we’re in the band. We order tater tots and martinis, and get our gear so we can get ourselves together in the van. It’s a plan, let’s advance Peter Pan, lift off, touch-down, get a spotlight, and then let’s have a dance. I’ll hop out of the pram, catch a lamb, with just one single hand, greet the grand, then do three somersaults, before we go on tour from 250 Surf Street and perform our second jam, we’re the coolest of the new acts streaming from Japan.

Come on won’t you feed them, and tease them with a zap, catastrophe seething, relaxing in the bath, suffering or maybe fucking squeezing, pick me up from the airport we’ll go driving in the Jag, you’re already mostly in the bag, I light up a square and light a second for you friend, light one up for the girl whose sitting in the back.

In the movies, monsters chase the heroes down. Is there a series of numbers that will release our hunter so she can catch those monsters by the horns. It’s a storm moving forwards, a disaster itching to come back, it’s the sound of a nightmare kicking dirt and bounding down the path. They’re alone but I hear her, the dangers coming fast. This olfactory mainstay, of juggernauts searching for something of a snack, even just a pack of peanuts in their sacks. A sample coming quickly, a set of kissing wizards sniffing cotton candy from a bag. The ache of a Tuesday, where seduction leads our pack. This is merely an act, this is merely an act, it’s just merely an act. Tombs enacted, coffins still they can’t resist, feeding sorceries and eating whims.

But then this is nothing, their stories quickly held in suspense. Their fingers numb with the words, they continue to forget. The strangers are wanting for this alphabet, the laws of the marshal that summer soon upsets.

An alert for the clouds,  across the sky to the stains on their affair, her man fucking pleading, love please put back on your underwear. The girl is screaming, in the governments’ undertow, and the ache of her sexuality can bring her skirt back down. Then there’s this season sweeping, there’s this garden you remember from back home.  the flowers topped upon the stem, thorns dipped in poisons, they keep our heart rate in suspense. Into the river  a surge of disbelief, where the cranberry serums overtake those 15th Century reliefs.

Then there’s the neighbors of evil, they’ve brought up the bags, pairing off with a 40oz and a joint of sticky hash. They carry their guns, and they carry with numbers. The master of art dying on a chariot or gurney. A satyr boost by easy flow, dances for tips at a Go-Go. Drinking up with idle stars, smoking cigarettes at outdoor but covered bars. Drinks for her friends. Drinks to get rid of the bends. Something to carry them through, something to carry after them too. Pleased and pleasing.

This is just the story of easy. This is just the state of disbelief. This is just the nuisance of riding a cable car, and performing with a chisel some religious affiliates relief. Then it’s the garden, 64-bit software coming down. He passes the lighter back to the girl sitting quietly observing, while the minister’s teeth are quickly falling out. So please me please me. Please me appease me and send me out. If the bagel is 99 cents and a drink is a dollar ten, we should have enough to sit on the bench before we start to go. Just pee and please me, just scream and shut the doors up top. I spin in circles riding Brooklyn rooftops, while the neighbors try to stop us from jumping down. I guess somebody died last week from jumping down, I guess somebody died from jumping down. I think he died from being alone. You and I wont die from falling down, we’ll never die from being alone.

Come on won’t you feed them, and tease them with a zap, catastrophe seething, relaxing in the bath, suffering or maybe fucking squeezing, pick me up from the airport we’ll go driving in the Jag, you’re already mostly in the bag, I light up a square and light a second for you man, light one up for the girl whose sitting in the back. She asked me if I was gay, I touched her leg, and put my lips to her mouth. We sat in the car past morning, whispering and never coming down.

— The End —