"roofies" poems
Oh no, I didn'tstagram
Don't want to share my selfies
Don't want you to know what I ate last night
Or what I did on Roofies
I twitter at your followers
And no, I won't "Follow you back"
The only people I'll re-tweet, my dear
Have all the things you lack
Won't go in One Direction
So hate on me, make a fuss
Don't think they'll oust the Beatles
Just because Harry does
Oh, what's a SnapChat?
Don't think I have that
Oh wait a minute, I don't care
Cos that app's neither here nor there
Don't think I'll find an online mister
Or reply to a "How about we.."?
Yes, I'm cyber challenged
So said my little sister
Everyone's a super model
But I mistrust Facebook photos
You probably photo-shopped your flaws
Or whitened your teeth with risottos
#nofilter equals #somanyfilters
Enough with all the fake
Because in this unreal world
This is more than I can take
So, take a step back
Post a candid shot
Don't hang around for them likes
Show them what you've really got
Make it stop.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
She's a freak,
She's quite meek,
And her cheeks,
Are divine.
Not sure,
If it's love,
But is that a crime?
To like,
A little crush,
On a girl so cute.
I barely know,
Much about her,
But I'd gladly,
Change that truth.
So let's sit,
On a couch,
And watch some movies.
Get to know each other better,
Or maybe you might,
Just slip me some roofies.
I guess that works too,
But if you go,
That route,
May I say,
No need,
To drug me,
I won't complain.
I want,
To be,
Awake,
For you.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 6:47 AM UTC
Looking back, we never saw this coming.
Our roller blades had a relationship
with the warm summer ground on Friday
nights when our parents would gather
over margaritas and wine; an escape hatch from
the 9 to 5 work week. We killed fireflies the
way we chew on hearts of the ones we love,
rubbing their luminescent bulbs on
the toes of our shoes so that our steps
might light up the night for just a little
bit longer and maybe, just maybe,
we could hold off on growing up.
Looking back, we all wish we could have stayed.
But bare foot soccer on concrete turned into
binge drinking, and alcohol poisoning
and neighborhood gatherings stopped being
kind. We swapped Air Heads and Pokemon
cards for flavored condoms and a drivers
license, only to find that everything
we threw away was worth so much more
than the high school bullies, and boys with roofies,
and the girls with tears running down into
their tissue stuffed chests. We gave
up our golden years, and to make up for it
we stuff Prozac down our throats with a
desperate belief that childhood happiness
can be found in an orange pharmacy bottle.
Hoping, I think, that someone will come along
and tell us we've done everything right,
and would we, for our reward, like our innocence returned.
Looking back, I guess we just couldn't comprehend.
We never knew that every day the pages turned
and we were slowly losing our love of fun dip
and cheap private-school valentines. We were
starting to forget the pride that came with
the title of King in foursquare, or the way
it felt to let go and jump from the highest point
of the swing. Instead we staked out cafeteria
seats and tried to figure out why having
blonde highlights, or contacts instead of glasses
suddenly made you better than everyone else.
Looking back, it all seems so sweet.
Then again, they say hindsight is 20/20.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
Hay bud
roofies
razorblade coochies
Bubble gum
glue sniff
spare change electric
automatic blue cheese.
Marked for death
dont forget
to lay off the wet ****
unless you like the handcuff
kickin and screamin.
I want to smoke your ****
and smoke a jay
Hay bud
tell me
You got somethin to say?
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 9:01 AM UTC
flithy fresh
tattered *****
trash talkin ****
got a gimp limp
front tooth chipped
got chip dip on my lip
dont even tip
take a sip out of your drink at the club
scrub but your girlfriend love me
im a sleezeball
a goofie kid that usually uses roofies but
passes out before they kick in
im a mess
Gutter Crunk
Regular Gutter punk
snatched up your junk
and made myself a nice hunk of doe
so now im driving drunk smashin yard gnomes
blowin whippets to the dome
up inside your home
eating all your food and smashing your ***
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
*** dat lingwistik ****
is so **** bro.
ppl dun wanna no nefing nemore, well tgif.
i just wanna *** some bishes
nd 4get abt lyf.
I ceebs bein gud wif werdz.
i jst wnt sum roofies 2 hlp me relx.
my comp is lagging 2much.
2 many **** on ytube 2dae.
imma go on COD and shoot sum *****
jst add me on SC nd u can send me nudes.
i mite c u at da clubs 2nite.
rofl.
YOLO.
inb4 dis is uncomahensabul
dis is 2deep4u.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
Wrapped in electric Christmas sweaters,
Apple cider morning holding whiskey
Feeling nervous.
I watch average people out my window,
I see snow, unique and frozen.
But who cares that everything outside is dying?
Here inside it's a rave, we're all alive and close,
Sweating, comfortable.
It's the only thing tethering me to the Earth.
Staying awake is only fun when there's ecstasy involved,
Depressing news on smartphones,
Roofies and ice cubes.
So much excitement, so little time before death,
Might as well live in excess,
And then stop, suddenly.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 6:18 AM UTC
Dear misogynists,
Let’s be very clear here.
Boys are not ******** by nature. It’s not in their genetic makeup to automatically be mean-spirited or cruel. Being born with a ***** does not predispose anyone to being the kind of person whose hands make a welcome mat of my hipbones, who licks his lips as if looking at an appetizer, whose breath laced with tequila, privilege, and desperation slurs "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, baby?" from the other side of the street.
Genetics does not do that. Society does.
Dear misogynists,
It is the reason I know Title IX better than my own social security number. It is the reason I have to clench my keys in white-knuckled fists when I walk home from school. It is the reason I avoid eye contact at all costs because that "counts as permission." It is the reason I am told my mouth is useless unless he's the one putting something in it. It is the reason women all over this ******* planet get asked "Well... What were you wearing?" because apparently my outfit speaks louder than my voice, but you must not have met me because I can be pretty **** loud.
Dear misogynists,
It is the reason I am told "You know boys won't like you if you don't stop with that feminist crap." Who the **** asked you? If you think that passionately wanting equality and not being afraid to voice that is "crap," I don't want you to like me anyway; in fact, I want you as far away from me as ******* possible. I don't give a **** about your disapproval and I never will.
Dear misogynists,
Maybe you're right - "locker room talk" is as American as baseball, or apple pie, or roofies. "How could he possibly help himself? If he saw you in that dress, what was he supposed to do? NOT assume you wanted him??"
YES. That's exactly what he was supposed to do: NOT assume I wanted him, or anyone else in the room for that matter. Stop excusing ****** harassment because "boys will be boys;" my skirt is not an invitation, nor is anything but the sober word "yes" - and I include the word "sober" because yes, it does make a difference.
Dear misogynists,
So no. I don't give a ****
And no. I won't stop with "that feminist crap."
And no. Boys will not be boys. Boys will be held accountable for their actions, just like everybody else.
And yes. I do kiss my mother with this mouth, but you can keep dreaming.
Signed, a Feminist
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 4:49 PM UTC
My friend Greg is musically talented, a singer-like R-Kelly, and because of that he acts like a dog, around women. Who stand by fire hydrants. He plays with his instrument in front of people on the street. And sometimes, the piano too. When Greg plays, he always wears huge sunglasses. That’s because he wants to impersonate Ray Charles. Plus, it’s cheaper than doing ****** Although, he does make a lot of money and he wants to start a band. Band-Aid company. But on a serious note, Greg teaches lessons to his students. They have tiny fingers, so it’s hard for them to reach the keys. But that’s okay because they’re in his pockets. As a musician, he dresses in black clothing. Excuse me, he dresses in African-American clothing. Before shows at open mics, in front of the audience, Greg sometimes throws up. Gang signs. In all honesty, Greg gives a great performance on stage. He just pretends the audience is naked. And then he gives them five and half minutes. As his friend, before he stepped onto the stage, I told him, “break a leg.” He tells me, thank you for pushing me so hard. As he hops around on crutches. Greg’s really good playing the piano, but the audience always gives him a slow clap. But that’s what happens when you play for retards. He considers himself a feminist womanizer. He sleeps with a lot of women. But don’t worry, he always asks for consent, before he roofies your drink. I know this from experience. He’s a good friend though. Once, I was dancing with a girl and I slipped and fell to the floor. Greg rushed over to me and stuck out his hand And I was so grateful for his friendship, until he grabbed the girl’s *** But you can’t blame him, it was really dark in there, how was he supposed to know that was his sister. Greg loves Shanghai Noon. He’s a huge fan of Owen Wilson. And me. Greg thinks all Asian people look the same. When he saw the Walking Dead Season premiere, he sent a flower-basket to my parents. Greg is so charming. Like the toilet paper. His favorite sport’s team is the Chicago Cubs, his favorite women are the Chicago Cougars.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
I was 16 the first time a boy I trusted threw the phrase "I love you" like a hand grenade
"boy", because my mother taught me it doesn't matter whether real men wear pink as long as they are gentle with these vital pieces of you
calloused hands can still be soft
it all depends on the way they touch you
and in fact, I was 16 the second time too.. a different boy, bigger than me like the first
he didn't struggle to nail my hands to the boards beneath me
maybe because I was never strong enough to left his knees off my chest
Or maybe there wasn't much fight in me that day either
I didn't cry when I woke up naked in my best friend's bed that same year
And I didn't cry when they kicked me out of school because roofies sounded like ****** to their ears
so if I say their names out loud who am I giving the power to? is it ironic the way he has the same name as your father.. looks strikingly similar to a man who has never ***** me, just ripped his own daughter's heart out when he didn't stop someone else from doing the same to her
I was old enough to know better when I started going home with girls that only fed me pills in the shape of their lips
it was my own mistake when I started kissing strangers the way I kissed whiskey bottles
I was 18.. she told social media it was the best *** she's ever had.
19.. her hands aren't even calloused but I've never felt skin so rough
20.. I'd rather be in jail for the rest of my life than explain to my therapist that you weren't taking advantage of me if I'm the one who led you up the stairs
I am casual in the way I mention the finger shaped bruises they left on my thighs and my wrists and the rope burns around my heart after I tried to hang myself when I couldn't catch my breath after the weight of his knees on my chest
I promise that this are not things I dwell on
these are not memories that I am still bitter or angry over
and in fact, it wasn't until I recognized that it was my voice that has been screaming all this time
that i was even willing to name you.
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC