"screenshot" poems
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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
There are pictures of naked bodies
Bouncing from one cell tower to a different cell tower.
We live in a world where technology allows us
To see each other’s bodies long before we ever
Climb under blankets and have the privilege
Of exploring one’s anatomy in the comfort of the dark
Instead of through the mirror of a small bathroom
Where if you’re lucky, she might have included her face.
It’s too bad the boy or girl she sends it to still won’t know
The color of her eyes or that she scrunches her nose
When she’s mad or that she has the deepest dimples when she laughs.
Your body is more than just a screenshot that the receiver will take.
It’s more than ******* in the extra bit of sand
Inside the hour glass of your flesh covered skeleton.
It’s more than standing a little taller, arching your back
So that the cage of ribs protecting your heart show through
The lens of the camera.
Your body is more than turning to the left, then turning to the right
Because you’re trying to find an angle that makes you seem even thinner.
There are boys who only know how to love you as they hold their phone
With your picture in their eyes and their hand touching their own body
When they could be touching yours.
Do not allow a boy to love you through a picture because if a real man
Wants to love you, he won’t ask to see your naked anatomy before
First seeing your face and knowing that your eyes are blue,
That when you laugh, your dimples grow as deep as the Grand Canyon.
Do not allow yourself to let a boy love you through a picture that’s
Bounced from one cell tower to a different cell tower.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
-4. Know this is the path to a breakup
-3. Try to fix things
-2. Ugly cry in a car because you
know everything has all gone so terribly wrong
-1. Get drunk, get high, smoke something
0. You break up
1. You don't know how to feel
2. Cry into your pillow at night
3. Convince yourself you did the right thing
4. Dream about him
5. Cry more and listen to sad songs
6. Hate being awake
7. Think about posting indirect messages to him
8. Write letters. Lots of them
9. Google what to do
10. Consider taking him back
11. Google why this happened
12. Forget the bad stuff and only remember the good memories
13. Google if it's your fault
14. Talk about him 24/7
15. Make plans to talk to him after a month
16. Lots of quotes saved to your phone
17. Screenshot things that make you laugh too
18. Miss him
19. Be a better friend
20. Binge watch
21. Occasional setbacks
22. Remember that he was an ******* and he made you hurt
23. Talk to other guys
24. Compare them to your ex
25. Start to be see that you're happier
26. See a hopeful future
27. Run into them
28. Feel like the world is crushing you
29. Find out they've been seeing someone else
30. New music playlist, "Moving On" featuring songs about karma and awful exes
31. More writing
32. Throw away his **** delete his photos and number, unfollow him on social media
33. Keep busy
34. Realize this is the end. The for real end
35. It gets easier, and you get stronger
36. If he begged you to come back what would you do?
37. You wouldn't even want him back at this point
38. It's been one month, and you didn't notice like you did when it was 1 week
39. Friends. Friends. Friends.
40. Enjoy being free and doing things for yourself
41. Those songs don't hurt the way they used to
42. Start thinking about other things
43. Feel proud
44. Focus on what's really important to you
45. Keep going
46. Smile
47. ...
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 6:18 AM UTC
i am in constant fear of forgetting.
forgetting how i feel,
what i'm thinking,
the directions to your house,
the quadratic formula,
all of it
so i leave myself notes along my way.
inked on my skin,
attached to sticky notes,
sticky-tacked on my wall,
in the paper's margin,
everywhere
but with you,
you're convenient.
tap two buttons at the same time
and our words are embalmed for another day.
just as easy as that.
every once in awhile
i like to refresh myself
by scrolling past each screenshot of us
i began to notice a pattern,
somewhere outside the messaging format
between each picture
were tons more, unrelated.
between us, whatever we are
life has moved on
we've been caught in our little world
while the rest has moved around us
but we have too
i know now
that no matter what happens
i will be okay
because time will move on
and i'll keep taking pictures
of things that aren't us
just like i have been
from the start
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
staring at a window
a distance of
two inches away
the world outside
falling...
piece
by
piece
by
piece
buys
pieces
buys
peace
by
pieces
it
pierces
please------
all i have
in silence
in hushes
your flushes
pierces...
one
two
three
then your smile,
all that is left...
no longer pleases...
like puzzles
they scattered
all in pieces
so hard to place together
yet so **** hard to supress
i hate it.
if she loves me
yet she
loves me not
can't seem to fit.
i place in
all the moments
one by one
bit by bit
altogether
infinitely
tirelessly
in repeat.
every single smile
serene in capture
even the tone
of her song
caught in record
every flicker of her hair in my mind
just like a screenshot
and even the blink
of her eyes
each individual dot...
she loves me?
she loves me not?
the flashes
in and out
staring at the window
only two inches away...
listening closely------
she loves me?
or she loves me not?
the outside world
like a breathtaking blossom
bald of petals...
falling
piece
by
piece.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 1:13 AM UTC
i live in a brightness
of worlds
paper-thin
a screenshot of
malleability
introduces my reckoning
today, the serpent
lays hold of
the egg
and starvation
is kept at bay
belly full
cut the cord
the descendants
hang heavy
all my life i've wanted
a reason to
die well
tonight, I hear it
in the sirens...
I hear it
in the coyotes...
I hear it
in my soul...
tonight, I hear it
in plain sight--
as clear
as a daisy
i was allowed
to slow down
to see my life
in a different gear
to venture a guess
towards life in payment
of a different path
i was
hungry
and hung-up
i was held-up
with my pants
down
i was a man
living his life
in the modern
mouse-trap
and nobody
cares about the
man in the
modern
mouse-trap
forget about the
cheese...
find your
own way
out
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 10:06 PM UTC
not all **** videos are equal
one searches the index,
hopeful a screenshot
pinpricks the eye and the peculiar
peculiar need of the moment
like most things good and appreciated,
sifting through the chaff is a learned skill,
required but not intuitively sired,
not every new word in the dictionary
delights, insights, triggering a welcome!warning
the sifter’s handle fits the hand uncomfortably,
requiring egregious prodigious turnings,
till the flour is silky and manipulative, ready,
pleasure is work, luster need maintenance
you passover, skippering,
a search for the next and the next,
treasured island is constantly on the move,
it’s coordinates require GPS updating
rerouting rerouting rerouting
what does this reveal about you?
there are no simple single path pleasures,
the first bite delight is ultimately worn down,
recalled but not equally fully restored,
so we need, insistent for new thrill pathways
to get to the same old pleasured places
the body acts, the body’s acts, the body’s reacts
familiarity is a museum collection,
everything human requires updating,
especially essentially by
the imagination’s perpetual swiping
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 7:53 AM UTC
Forgotten art of demonic friendships
With baddie caddies and the absent masculine control of the black liquiline emotions
Pooled around a hair mask, it stripped away all the gaudy binds
The devil is really a concept that one should never be denied
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
Red Red Red Red-of-the-Media Blitz
Annie helps in bulk; it does not matter
The tree is different; But not by the forms
of the same species, onscreen
the same screen of glass and mirrors,
1: Sorry, Alchemy, We have passed out of death
he was on that side, Russia has, of blind beans,
and covered with the mist of death:
A heart full of love; The Spanish spare Clients
Meditation that you have to not only the Lord,
and Diana, 1 year, in Asia; The beach is near the truth
and in a land in which no man, is in the heavens,
Uspensky, This has to change to fulfill
the cavalry, and in the winter, the winter quarters of the fool,
And Paul said: What do you want?
1 gold is old, is already too much.
"Water is death." 1 and seven horses
I saw the copies of the four bright stars,
Then again, not every city ...
1 for help, and thus, do nothing, do not withhold from thee;
1, in the dark, and in the East, and violence;
1 I'm sorry to read and write to the image and follows;
for example, hot drinks, and the two men, one of the product is, however, to be explained in;
The first fall of the equator, Egypt ... and what color gloves in the countryside;
and tomatoes in tomato, which is five minutes of the start of John; Maecenas minutes and was found in Virginia; No price;
Men and women and children of color; they died
The complete carrots
The end does not happen.
In the computer industry equipment, process show
The risk of the sun. Recently in parts; All things to me, Go, and the air, the sea
and the air, the heavens opened,
and the measure of olive oil on the side of the cup
was found to be a golden cup in the negative:
see, now the heat in the water is heated to;
And it starts with her husband John, the arrival of security, this is the dieties ornaments? After a wheelchair today was less than a cruise;
Power and evil, death that said
And his wife, and a towel; and customers
When the clouds of love letters from John
it yielded no fruit will be fixed.
Where the Red lacquered version of the Red; screenshot
The easiest way that a year;
Maecenas especially the nature of the Prophet, and now we know
This is what it should be done;
break, time to call ...
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
Hate is never describes as pretty
Never looked at like a blooming flower
Sprouting life into the ground
Bringing fresh air into the sky
For the wind to carry high
Hate is never described as a butterfly
Every flap of flight signed by grace and beauty with a ballpoint pen
Every color a screenshot of pure emotion
Every movement architected to perfection modeling God’s holy touch
Hate is always described as
Ocean waves washing you down to deeper waters until your dying in the very thing you need to live
Or thorns and weeds growing in a garden, attacking every plant like they are thoughts in my mind
Or fire spreading and growing and burning everything it touches, flames licking at my body till I’m ash
Hate is always described as poisonous, cruel, evil,
Because that is the way it makes you feel
Hate is really a sculpture
Every line shows something new
Every curve a double meaning
Every smile hiding something cold
Every eye revealing something untold
Hate is the sculpture and the sculptor
Mastermind of its own masterpiece
no one sees the flower in the fire that burns in my soul
No one sees the roots in the deep wading water threatening to take hold
If hate was a fire, we wouldn’t allow it to control
Hate blooms and blossoms into our life slowly
It starts as a fleeting thought
Planting roots in your mind
Then your questions becomes answers
A system stems and builds leaves of loathing that infiltrates your heart
The despise desperately develops in the depths below my diaphragm
And a flower of hate blooms from a beating heart I don’t even want beating anymore
Hatred is a flower.
It blooms it doesn’t seize
It grows roots so deep
Twisting and turning around every ***** every emotion, every thought
Until it’s impossible to **** it without killing yourself
Hatred is a flower and it makes you into soil
Decaying in despise and detest of love
Until body deflates in the darkness of your soul
-S.L.K.
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 5:03 PM UTC
Im so sick of it.
I want to remember what we were like 5 months ago, when we met. Everything was so perfect then. We used to be so in sync with each other. I called you my brother and you called me your sister, because our friendship was that close.
I miss not missing a day talking to each other. We could talk about anything ,me and you. I could tell you everything and not feel like I was a sour old bag. You'd listen everytime and make me feel better about the situation. We used to screenshot all of our funny conversations and keep them in our phones as memories.
But not now. Now I don't even recognise the face staring back at me. What happened to us? We used to be so close and now I barely even remember you. It's sad. Now I'm scared to even talk to you. We don't talk anymore , there's no more screenshot conversations and there's no more happiness.
I want you back. The friend I once knew. I want to feel happy in your company , not scared. I want to have to stop fighting for your attention because this silencing void between us is killing me. And excuse me if I sound selfish , but the truth never came easy.
Please, come back to me.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 5:58 AM UTC
friday morning,
we wake up hungover
from last night's binge drinking,
because even though we love our jobs,
no one really wants to work for their entire lives,
when so many things are unanswered,
perverted, and misconstrued.
hashtag all of those millennial catchphrases,
to garner hearts from your friends
who you haven't seen in years,
friends who work in San Fran,
Chicago, Greenwich Village.
crank up your laptop speakers,
as Neon Indian's Polish Girl
plays that **** synth,
and take a drag from a P-Funk,
before your Grandma hits your
shoulder with the newspaper daily—
right after she speaks in Vietnamese,
asking you what is your name,
because she has Alzheimer’s.
but in these social media days,
isn't everything that is worth mentioning to your sister,
everything that is worth fighting for,
everything that is ****** in this world,
on the internet (maybe, just Twitter tbh).
screenshot the cat meme you like,
save it,
share it,
move on.
if only she wasn't allergic to cats,
maybe it could have worked out.
that was 7 years ago.
*** ova it. Then, mix your red bull with your coffee,
because the next 10 hours of your life,
will be revolving around caring about people
other than your ungrateful and ingratiating ***
don't cry,
when I say good-bye.
stay for a while, under the shade of the rooftop
where the deejay spins Frank Ocean
and Frank Sinatra records,
as everyone is drinking scotch, or Yuengling,
and ashing over the veranda bansister,
; the bad boys try to open their souls
to the good girls. and the bad girls,
reveal too much to the good boys.
we devoured those drugs, as though
they were jelly beans from a convenience store,
and then we broke into the store
and ate some more.
break the coals on top of the hookah,
puff, puff, pass—
inhale, exhale,
fit the deformed piece
back into the Dinosaur puzzle,
and crawl back into bed,
pull the covers over
your trembling body,
shut your eyes,
and reflect,
for the day is heavy with regret
and unsaid things.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
we all have our stories.
stored in cafes, empty beer bottles,
soaked clothes, tattered floppy disks.
old film cameras, b/w reels.
we keep these memories with us,
and displace them as well.
their cytotoxicity travels
throught terminals of life's airport.
eventually new souls come and go.
terminals change, destinations flicker
on digital screens.
we delay our feelings, fall in love
with the impossibility of circumstance.
we all have our stories,
maybe in poems like these, or
photographs like the screenshot i would take to share this poem.
we all have our stories,
and not all stories are as happy
as the plants kept beside me while
i sit and write this poem down.
Aug 26, 2023
Aug 26, 2023 at 7:57 AM UTC
Are private conversations even private anymore
We talk with caution
Is any body even real anymore?
Fake news turned into fake lives
Oh wait did fake lives come before fake news?
No one even knows anymore
Of the million ways to die
Who would of thought a screenshot
Would be one of them
Vulnerability is now an illusion
A mystery to many
Too many are hallucinating
People talk
while others are investigating
Looking for ways to expose them
Knowing that you are one screenshot away from death, how can anyone be real anymore?
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
Encyclopedic mainframes
Lap-top heads
Power-boxes for multitudinous outlets, plugs, chargers
Conduits manipulating
Fiber-optic arteries
Artificial energy
ZAP
Pale lights
Computers aglow in dark cloistered bedrooms
Powered pacemakers stalling at microwaves
Electrocuted blood - cookied fantasies
Ads proclaiming everything free!
Pharmaceutical elixirs for limpness, lumpiness, loneliness
Snake-oil for suffering
Nigerian kings, Syrian refugees
*********** clever memes, whimsical gifs, shocking news, witty banter
Socio-politic-religous-diatribes
Spewing on every thread
Existential *****
Aroma-less cuisines
Vacuumed vacations
Youtubed communions
Suicide selfies.
Crucifixdrones - pedolandia
Jdate.POF.AshleyMadison.Match. Eharmony.SpeedDate.OKcupid
CG. Missed encounters...
Serial killers,
Pixalated ******* vein-throbbed **** shots, cardboard gloryholes
Instagramed I
Inviolate I
Internet I
I I I
No sweaty arm pits, cottage cheese, gray nose hairs or belly fat
Computer [ScreenShot]
While behind, posters hang: The Doors, Tupac, NIN, The Smiths, Hendrix, Joy Division, Nirvana
HandshapedHeart.
2D souls
Text-dating
144 word manifestos
#revolutions
Archetype emoticons
Doodled centaurs
Caged in matrices
Transcendental notes
Need a hit
Of internet smack
A line, a pinch, a drag
A like, a comment, a kudos
A reply, a thumbs up, a share, a poke
One measly view
Baby, come on, give me a fix
Just one
Notification: ding-beep-buzzzz
I want to dissolve like alka-seltzer in tap water
Otherwise I'm a used-up toothpaste tube
Sitting in a dank medicine cabinet
If not, I am
A stick-figure created from matches
Drowning in a drum of gasoline
Not buried beneath pregnant soil
No. dumped into blue recycling bins.
[Ctrl +Alt+Delete]
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
I stare at you, every now, and then,
but my feelings for you remained unspoken.
I wish, I could just tell you what I think of you,
Cause if you only knew, and it's okay with you, I'll run to you.
I screenshot every picture of you,
look at my gallery, It's full because of you.
I didn't liked you since we met,
It's just.. like.. one day, when I saw you, It felt like magnet.
Ever since that day,
I'm always following your foot way,
I wanna know, who's with you,
I wanna know what you do,
I just wanna know more about you,
In every way, I can do.
Months, years, Decades, passed,
I still like you, I still love you,
You still like her, You still love her.
It hurts, it hurts, because I know, you won't love me, the way I do.
It hurts, to be bypassed by you.
I loved you for 10 years.
I know it's not your problem anymore.
But please help me,
If there's really no chance, tell me.
Cause I'm tired, I'm tired of getting ignored.
I think I can't do these things anymore.
I need to stop my feelings for you,
It will hurt more, if I'll continue.
Maybe you're not really my forever,
perhaps, you're the epitome of game over.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
on skype tonight you said
we're 94 hours apart
you sent me a screenshot of google maps to show:
"94 because i chose walking, i can't drive"
i gave you a small smile
when all i really wanted to say was how much
i wished you were here
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Jenny is in love with Rick
Took awhile before rick confessed his virtual feelings
She replied I love you and sent a couple emojis
to show some happiness
now Rick is bursting with excitement that she loves him too
the heart emoji said it all
so he goes ahead and screenshot his onscreen feelings
and shares it with pals in his group
Tom: that's what's uuuup
Money bags: you got it bro
el: you ma *****
George: that ***** is yours papi
Now Jenny's feelings are itching
I must tell my girls am soon gonna get engaged
She tweets
Shares
And
Post on everyone's wall
I FOUND MY BETTER HALF
it's 8pm the girls are getting together
to celebrate the great news and
to watch a reality show
then followed by that series
It's now 1am,everyone is kissing goodbyes
we all forgot to talk about Jennys boyfriend
but once we reach home, we'll text our emotions
The emoji, will say it all
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 2:48 AM UTC
I am going to tell you a story.
A short story.
A terrible one.
It might be me. It might not be.
I did not know him.
I did not know anybody around.
It was a new class.
He sat behind me.
The lecture commenced.
He touched my back.
Accidentally, I assumed.
I forgave him in my mind.
And I did not turn back.
Another time.
Must be accidental, again.
Forgivance granted.
Turned back? Haha no.
Thrice?
Four times in a row?
I could have turned back and glared.
I did not.
I ignored him.
I hate myself for that.
Suddenly I felt a hand in my top.
I was shocked.
I panicked within.
But put on a calm front.
And did not turn back.
I ignored him again.
I hate myself more, for that.
His hand
Reached my right breast.
I have no clue how.
I felt as though I was dead already.
Strangely
The people around us were oblivious;
Of the heinous crime in procession.
He very casually lingered about.
And very casually pulled his hand back.
All content.
I ignored him, hahah.
Did not turn back, still.
I so hate myself for that.
This might seem insignificant to one.
A matter too trifling to controvert about.
But it was not. For me.
The lecture ended.
Later on?
A meek complain, I did.
But it was as ignored.
As his malice was by me.
But on much persistence and support.
I stood up again.
I did not resist his advances then, yes.
That was bad.
But understand,
One cannot.
But I finally gathered some courage.
To stand up against it.
Against him.
He was a ***** hahah.
Inbox-ed me an apology on Facebook!
Had a 'sorry' been a solution,
This would have been a perfect world.
But it is not.
I had a proof now
Though.
Of his evil deed.
Thanks to Facebook.
The screenshot was shown,
And punished was he.
I had never felt so happy!
Third of August.
Twenty-thirteen.
It has been a year.
I overcame my apprehensions,
The miseries, the horrors.
To be the happy me.
That I now am.
I still regret not having taken a stand.
At the very moment I was supposed to.
Sigh.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
This screenshot of you, I always see:
waving over your shoulder,
smiling at me.
I've got this fear in my mind like,
what will you do when I
run out of things to say?
Will you stay?
Will you stay when I have nothing to say or do,
will you stay awhile,
just until I think of a cheesey joke
to make you smile?
When nights get longer
will holding me asleep get older?
When I forget another happy birthday,
will you stay?
Just tell me what you need and
God, I pray I can
give you everything.
Anything your heart desires.
Just tell me why you look so tired.
This screenshot of you, I always see:
waving over your shoulder,
smiling at...
There's a fear in my mind that
one day you'll wake up and find
what you're looking for in somebody else.
But you're smiling at me...
No matter the tears or
swearing or fears, I know
at the end of the day,
you're walking in through that door
and I know what you'll say,
.......And I love you too.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
I've got numbers that never show.
I'll never see another text
From those asleep in an oak box.
I screenshot them; kept like dead leaves
I hope it never ends
I hope it never .
Jul 18, 2020
Jul 18, 2020 at 3:44 PM UTC
#051416
With no words in my heart,
You became the cure of my entity.
And how could I,
a man out of nothing,
a man brought out of shame,
of guilt and pride;
How could I, not give you praise?
How I could I withold freedom
For my long lost soul?
Tell me how.
Why?
Why I'm so still
in pouring out these tears?
Why can't I go to bring to You
the glory that You deserve?
Why death felt secured
on bringing itself to me?
Please tell me, why?
I am to choose between two lanes
Of black and white,
Of greater Light and lesser Darkness.
And I no longer should linger
On the multi-shades of gray,
The color of my past
That disgusting disguise,
That trail of disobedience,
That habitual sin of impurification.
Yes, I will choose.
I am tired,
Tired of resisting the pull of trigger
To finally hold me to eternity,
Yet eternity would meant darkness
If I'd live in and out of that cell in crypt.
I became tired.
I would never find an ending full of laughters,
But of fraud, lies, despise and insult.
I would never find peace of the true North
For once, I preferred the three confusing routes.
So, never is a beginning.
I am healed.
Healing came in to my life,
My wounds were painted with crystal-clear blots,
Of red as stains, a heartbeat of a child.
I paused for a moment
Until moments were brought to halt.
My injury is pain itself,
Yes, it's painful but eyes were so gentle
To screenshot the emerging revival.
Death is cured.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC