"shotgunning" poems
You'll always be first
Tied together forever
What a mess we've made.
Running from the cops
I ****** you to get even
Nothing more than that.
This will be our last
The end to our playground love
I try to forget
Shotgunning your vape
I tried to get to know you
You didn't let me
I don't even know
what your actual name is
but you made me ***
For such a big truck
and all that talk that you talk
you didn't last long
I took a xanax
And your face looked just like his
And then you were done
I hope this isn't
the only haiku for you.
I kind of like you.
We finally ******
then someone else came along
to mess it all up.
Back where we started
I thought things were said and done
Never say never
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
The smoke tasted like Christmas as it sank into her lungs. She swirled her tongue expertly inside of her mouth playing with the simple taste of holiday and pine. It was the first time that she had felt the effects of the herb in a couple of months and she would savor every second. Virginia watched on as the joint rolled with two extra large pieces of raw organic rolling papers burned in the slow drawl the way a Cuban cigar burns. Her lungs filled with the smoke and she continued to breathe in causing her ******* to expand further out word. A smile came onto her face as her lips parted carefully holding the smoke still in her lungs and not let any escaping. She leaned forward and opened her mouth more as if she were going in for a passionate kiss and locked lips with the man in front of her but did not close her mouth for a kiss. She blew the smoke from her lungs into the man's mouth causing his lungs and chest to expand and fill with the smoke. When Virginia's lungs and ******* had finally sank back to their normal ample capacity she and Nicholas closed their lips for a soft short kiss before pulling their faces away from one another. Nicholas held the smoke in until he needed to breathe again and blew the smoke out of his nostrils. "Shotgunning is by far one of my favorite ways to smoke" Virginia crooned in her sharp Romanian accent. Nicholas did not say anything back but grabbed the joint and inhaled and filled his lungs to their capacity and leaned inward to return the shotgun blast. When the ritual was over they did not remove their lips from each others lips after the first soft kiss. Instead they continued to kiss first with small ones that were soft and barely felt. They moved onto a heavier more passionate kiss and the smoke in Virginia's lungs began to come out and bury both her and Nicholas's faces in the smoke. Both she and him inhaled while kissing more wildly feeling the smoke recirculating between the two of them. The kisses were rough in a lustful way and were accompanied with small sharp bites on the lower lips. The smoke had began to die down and Nicholas leaned back away from Virginia's still eager lips and said "If I ever **** myself with a shotgun, it will be that kind of shotgun."
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
We are brutally beautiful
We are
The soft red glow of a nuclear sunset
Pooling like blood
From wounds
Like that one time I cut my forearms open
Oh so that’s what a heartbeat looks like
It is sign language after a fist fight
When I’m so angry I can’t speak
So with my hands I tell you
No one should talk to you that way
It is the assbackwards way we allow ourselves to heal
For instance
When I had cancer
My parents took me to church when they could
Asked people to pray for me
And I thought drinking holy water might help me
It only made me sick
And I spent three days in the hospital
This life is *****
It is ugly
We are ugly
Like
Crime scene photos of bathtub suicides
Shortcutting life
And still getting into heaven
How after so many years
Just to make things interesting
Peter takes bribes now
And we are beautiful
Brutally beautiful
Endearing in our passion
Because it’s just a little too conscious to be animal
But we try
It is shotgunning a dove
And the rain of feathers
Even when damp with blood they are still soft
I wanna hold you tightly
You coarse cut angel
Your jagged edges rub
But neither of us wants to fall asleep alone
We will never be perfect
But we were supposed to be
Remember that
When your ugly rears its head
Like a mental mirror showing you only the things you notice about yourself
Know
nobody sees you the way you see yourself
Just remember
To smile more
And laugh when things are funny
Make love when you can
These things are good for you
Balance out the brutal
Because you
Are brutally beautiful
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
Sitting in my car, steeping in misery.
At the end of another lonely lunch.
Playing on my phone, I saw you.
I’m not sure what happened precisely then,
that made me hold out my hand so boldly.
Only, a feeling washing over me.
That I was losing you.
Your interest, maybe.
Even though I was still trying to deny,
the pull and the see from the get-go,
I knew. Under the push and doubt,
I liked you. And your interest in me.
Skirting along the lines of PC.
I knew when you posted that video.
Some girl shimmy-shaking. Not very well.
Oh, the curves...
I wanted you to verb mine.
Walked past her on the stage in my mind.
Decked-out in dakini tribal,
making it rain.
In your lap.
Every part of my life was hell then.
And anytime you said anything,
chills up the spine.
Alive.
I was immune that day.
High as a kite, yet without a clue,
how much higher we would be,
in just a few hours.
And when I left to drive home,
the exact second I turned my car on,
began the lyrics of an acoustic song I love.
And had never heard on the radio before.
*I found a line and then it grew
I found myself still thinking of you
I felt so empty and now I'm fine
but still it's burning when will you be mine*
Sometimes I wonder,
if I hadn’t left exactly then,
if I hadn’t heard that specific song,
keyed up at just the right time…
Maybe I wouldn’t have been even bolder.
Maybe we wouldn’t have ascended,
hand-in-hand into the stratosphere,
shotgunning pineal heartstrum.
I deleted our conversation history,
when he found my poetry page.
Not to deny it, but to save it from him.
Keep him from tainting it.
Not one sacred character.
But I remember most of it.
That’s the thing:
I remember you, as if,
part of you continues to exist,
inside of me.
*do you remember all the songs that I have wrote for you?
all the songs that I have wrote for you...*
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
Shotgunning in the ally behind a seedy bar, sneak in the back door like under the radar
The girl on my mind, is not it the lady before me. I see the man in the mirror, but cant say that I agree.
She delivered her hit, a cold, cut blow. My knees gave way and my sight turned snow, my back hit the stall and I slid to the floor, wiped the blood from my nose and tried to stand once more.
I dust myself off and headed back to the bar, hoping no one would notice that I've fallen so far. I force a half smile, and say that all is well. Cause I cant just say "Hi, I'm living in Hell." Or that I'm an empty shell, and Maybe yeah I'm my biggest problem, but who's to tell.
I want to go out, but I know I cant play. Cause no one ever gives me the ******* time of day.
So I try to forget it, if just for a while; the pain that comes out when I remember your style, your eyes your voice and the way you smile...
**** it! I don't mean to ***** but I'm still in my head. Control my emotions? Yeah, not till I'm dead.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
Kissing is described as pliant
and warm.
I’ve never touched your mouth
but your softness has the same
glow. The same flow of
surprise and movement people
like to talk about.
I think if we pressed ourselves
under the same sheet and
shared the same air, then my heart
would settle
mouths slackening and tightening,
into pliable smiles. Tongues curling
over words and laughter.
Shotgunning one another’s voice
with the same virility some
lovers kiss with.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
I wish I was a rich kid
So I could date girls
And pick them up in fancy cars
Or diesel trucks
Trucks that I just drive in
And don't carry heavy loads with
I wish I was a rich kid
So I could impress girls with my beach house
On the vineyard
That I only use twice a year
On the Fourth of July
And once in August
I wish I was a rich kid
So I could buy myself some friends
And drink ciroc
Cause money isn't an issue
And we could take videos of us shotgunning beers
On my dads fancy yacht
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 9:08 PM UTC