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Salty rancher spackle is to Earthy diva smackers as Swinging hotel number is to?
Rippling cling bread is to Three lizard chariots as Indigo lime tangent is to?
Nighttime reunion planet is to Nettle lane scuffle as Soaking spider *** is to?
Fancy trance logs are to Sticky fudge lather as Vivacious gator college is to?
Cheerful blossom face is to Secret tractor rocket as Canned gremlin emblems are to?
Jealous pitchfork generals are to Heartbreaking patchwork veranda as Folding robot noise is to?
Pretty rhino rash is to Lost locket vengeance as Back pocket weather is to?
Frosted candy sidewalk is to Sneaky kook code as Shiny waffle smoke is to?
Sapphire cloud romance is to Magnetic comet lava as Blue triangle envy is to?
Vanishing honey melody is to Thermal elf pajamas as Whistling iceboat shampoo is to?
Peach mint politics is to Frozen doll pennies as Rusty anchor catapult is to?
Swollen pony fever Throbbing sword kazoo as Silent turbine science is to?
Obese germ thunder is to Stacked lemon towers as Corrupt moon jockey is to?
Demented insect whistle is to Glass trophy cleanup as Purple geode bubble is to?
Nighttime razor slime is to Lacquered dragon maps as Tint paper mittens are to?
**** camel drops are to Velvet ****** shoes as Slippery red muffins are to?
Flying hot drool is to Pale chocolate telescope as Tin trumpet ballet is to?
Expensive puppy speed is to Flowered duck mirror as Cosmic needle factory is to?
Fractured laser doodles are to Cracked butter gravel as Rubber holster straps are to?
Majestic panther fortress is to Jeweled cork target as Iron swan taxi is to?
Poisonous pepper bouillon is to ****** goat soap as Chrome feather pirates are to?
Digital gorilla scriptures are to Timid hunter stench as Frozen domino video is to?
Eccentric troll opera is to Transparent wax village as Spoiled coral agony is to?
Bizarre green metal is to Pillow eating hamster as Leather cavern ***** are to?
Eternal hurricane evidence is to Powdered rainbow perfume as Smoking yellow prune is to?
Liquid wish cleanser is to Exploding meadow ladders as Brittle rose hammer is to?
Caged foam filter is to Cherry balloon string as Ivory cactus spider is to?
Carbon puppet watch is to Sad kings compass as Elastic lace whiskers are to?
Nitrogen trolley dust is to Lazy elephant toffee as Orange toad choir is to?
Dark pole zodiac is to Blue finger blanket as Illegal bug nozzle is to?
Stinky towel cookies are to White jade caskets as Sticky snail tea is to?
Converting stellated caramels is to Mythic aerosol socks as Rubber raspberry jokes are to?
Flying clock carousel is to Whisky nut worms as Plastic fish platforms are to?
Queasy Vaseline queens are to Moody pigeon pills as Aqua mice fur is to?
Spotted bowl shadow is to Idiotic radiance lotion as Bungalow toad hearse is to?
Gushing chimney fungus is to Funky lamb acrobat as Utopian **** sprinkler is to?
Twinkling bungalow tablet is to Botanical duck rope as Bug hat ram is to?
Broken clock fossil is to Black ginger confetti as Parisian cobra meatloaf is to?
Silly Xerox ribbon is to Obedient raccoon carny as Traditional cat linguini is to?
Last astral advisor is to Elastic badger riddles as Broken circle rifles are to?
Bagged squire channel is to Temporary mosaic cake as Ancient bacon thread is to?
Wireless math army is to Moronic neon money as Pearl razor radar is to?
Rubber buzzard blizzard is to Troubled bubble wizard as Crushed hash ******* is to?
Purple birdy cure is to Tangled frost blossoms as Silken bridal saddle is to?
Unisex owl accordion is to Sugar bottomed boat as Optical nougat treasure is to?
Flavored saline rain is to Black arrow clan as Transistorized clam guitar is to?
Sharpened twig scar is to Mutant beet sonar as Baked troll mask is to?
Boxed noodle secrets are to Traditional guru buttons as Glossy marshmallow strategy is to?
Vibrating melted jelly is to Silver furniture dream as Spewing collated seats is to?
Burnt mountain pickles are to Baby preacher shoes as Sympathetic pilot pain is to?
Narrow portal treaty is to Monkey warehouse vacancy as Painted tornado trap is to?
Porch penny sulfur is to Glowing pony fat as Patched mattress bait is to?
Frigid waitress fallacy is to Graphic shrimp salute as Misted sneezing window is to?
Moist apple moss is to Daddy’s zoom seed as Downtown Pope cart is to?
Tired felon trickle is to Holographic squirrel candle as Wild ray hay is to?
Deadly zero chalk is to Folding wilderness chart as Curved ******* vacuum is to?
Hollow porcelain pellets are to Strawberry rain stencils as Microwave taxi nomads are to?
Wasted machete balcony is to Crumpled creature confessions as Fridge fuzzed fruit is to?
Sloppy demon damage is to Squeaky puppet chuckle as Mental arcade combat is to?
Monster trout stories are to Lewd pirate cocktail as Locked mammal grommet is to?
Rotting rope network is to Tragic toy goat as Cotton submarine shoes are to?
Complex pepper dance is to ****** cloud cushion as Marching taxi holiday is to?
Mental petal collectors are to Spooned barn putty as Dork factory fiction is to?
Hot spotted tops are to Timed stepping pests as Yogurt notching tartar is to?
Crazy dog comics are to Ambitious cartoon sphinx as Pavlov’s zinc ballet is to?
Soiled spinster wedding is to Padded razor wound as Floating fish map is to?
Slippery leopard pants are to Perfumed nut button as Dart wizard party is to?
Needy alien elephants are to Barking garden gnats as Quasar focused paper is to?
Slanted heart **** is to Bronzed cliff sandals are to Cunning jockey jokes are to?
***** thumbprint massage is to Holistic princess memory as Sliding dental sword is to?
Drifting wood whistle is to Fluorescent carpet powder as Foam dragon whistle is to?
Chopped web shadow is to Immortal vermin soup as Collapsing porch conspiracy is to?
Stolen thunder chant is to Haunted comet heart as Swollen throat portrait is to?
Fragrant frost parfait is to Grumpy caveman *** as Random stingray solo is to?
Squeaky polar turbine is to Silent lava fever as Oversized lunar fulcrum is to?
Synthetic dew droppers are to Pocket poster paste as Hypnotic screen dog is to?
Symbolic whirlpool nausea is to Dreaming tree phantom as Log badge bracket is to?
Camp hippo map is to Horseradish seizure insurance as Distant insect mirror is to?
German lady sherbet is to Stuntman laundry wax as Hungry butterfly ghost is to?
Fly smudged foil is to Amped maze coil as Shifting optic terror is to?
Automatic sheep floss is to Panoramic tanker anchor as Throbbing bone pillow is to?
Mutant clown village is to Nightmare translation treasure as Spotted spectral chakra is to?
Blind roach tweat is to Hermit worm tiara as Divine logo ritual is to?
Glueless gun stamp is to Malicious spam pump as Floral toffee pods are to?
Dudgeon mist removal is to Menacing bolt smacker as Boating duke shadow is to?
Costly metal plungers are to Creaky buzzing gushers as Glowing star cushions are to?
Raked barge sludge is to Crusted cream glitter as Zircon gutter babble is to?
Fake gold scholar is to Amish ******* mogul as Faithful ***** choir is to?
Sacred limo prayers are to Fried mice café as Splintered ****** thimble is to?
Dealing rabbit decals is to Pelican bongo festival as Patched equator rot is to?
Freedom gourd gasoline is to Cobblers studying acorns as Desecrated dice crater is to?
Tattered tapestry rod is to Busted particle scanner as Bogus piffle catalogue is to?
Trifle truffle raffle is to Last lamb laminate as Segmented cake goggles are to?
Domestic tackle tactic is to Ticking tic talk as Cordial corps coordinates is to?
Tucked duck caftan is to Sunken ramp ruckus as Wretched ranch rhetoric is to?
Clearly incomprehensible directions are to Useful archaic nonsense as Antiquated skeletal outline is to?
Bewildered beasts feasting are to Lazy busybodies resting as Vaccinating brave volunteers are to?
Lucky wagon dragons are to Famous gargoyle gargle as Formal postman funding is to?
Furrowed shroud chowder is to Borrowed tartan pajamas as Martini mixed algebra is to?
Cowgirl balloon helium is to Chewy glucose habitat as Stationary monument movement is to?
Diamond powered powder is to Diagonal diameter diagram as Purposely condensed expansion is to?
Organic iodine capsule is to Gleaming beach probe as Dominant dome static is to?
Shaving wrinkled targets is to Petting sensible monsters as Selling invisible whiskey is to?
Frozen piano architecture is to Note dotted clouds as Screaming Korean worms are to?
Sonic plant website is to Telepathic climbing clam as Bored protein exercise is to?
Gourmet mollusk cone is to Numb poodle caravan as Asian raven radar is to?
James Amick Apr 2013
A trowel and an infinite supply of spackle. Leave me to work, friends. I perceive your cracks, everyone, every one. Canyons, hairline crevices, they trace your backs like rain down windowsills. I've never quite been able to predict where the fissure will turn.

A trowel and an infinite supply of patience. Leave me to my duty, friends. Let me fill in your fractures, I can saturate them to their basin with reparations, reconciliations. I will breathe forgiveness, companionship, love, whatever you need onto my mendings, they will harden. Paint over them what shades you will, I’ll hold your hand as you hold the brush.

A trowel and an infinite supply of compassion. Leave me to my compulsion, friends. Maintain my repairs, I beg of you. You let them become brittle and they flake off of your faces like paper Mache masks. You, let the paint fade. Your work, our work, to fix the fissures, it’s crumbling through your fingers, outstretched, dumbfounded you stare. Pick up the trowel and spackle your own canyons. Spread the fleeting putty across your faces till your eyes cry dust when you blink.

Oh look, upon your left eyelid. A fracture. A trowel. Leave me to my love, friends.
As I stand before the mountain of confidence called hope, I see a clear path up, not too steep, not too straight, but this path is embodied with rewards to the top.

At the top, there is a magnificent tree made of gold, silver leaves and Copper roots. Hope mountain held a perfect prize awaiting me, a Tree called Faith.
This sight to behold was everything I wanted, everything before me was so clear, but at the bottom where I was, there was a River.

This River was called Shame.
This river was filthy, the water was calm where I was, but looking downstream I could see the rapids of rage, the ripples of conditioning before the raging rapids were inviting.

The dreary stonewalling fortification on the banks allowed no light through, downstream was scary and looked impossible, why would I go that way? why even look?
I looked upstream and saw a blinding light, what could this be? I was so curious, so I waited, a true gentleman always waits.

Two days later the light took shape, as it came closer I could finally see, I could see a lifeboat with a caring nurturing beautiful woman.

As this beautiful woman came closer, I could see the river was being supplied by this woman, I could see she was the source.

The river of Shame was being fed by this woman, this filth in front of me was coming from her, but the beauty was something I've never seen, this beauty had me curious.

This beauty made me forget of the supply to the river.
  What I saw wasn't real all the sudden, what I believed was now real.
She came close enough for my heart to be heard, since she had no heart she was envious, she hated what others admired.

She wanted my wholesome heart, so she used her falsehood love bombing to create one, dreamingly admiring the mountain, we were planning different paths right then.
As I stared at the golden Tree of Faith glowing upon Hope mountain, I didn't notice the river was rising, as the numbing waters were rising it covered my feet, I didn't notice she also took a piece of my heart to claim as her own.

She used toxic gas and light to create a projection that this heart was hers to give back to me.

I didn't know any better so I accepted this ambient abused heart, this unfelt abuse gave me amnesia, this hidden poison of my cognitive dissonance gave her all of me.

Since she had nothing and that's what she craves, I had everything so she wanted to enslave.
I forget about the mountain with the tree even being there. I forgot I was here.

Her lifeboat was awkward, it was shaky,
it has imperfections, it has holes,
   her lifeboat is sinking,
     her heart is missing.
my knightly kind hearted empathy,
   my buffering and nurturing sympathy         pick this beautiful woman up
      I pick this gem up because of her idealization of me.
I can clean this insidious gem because she makes me believe, but through the veil I cannot see.
I throw her over my shoulder to carry all her weight, it's hard to move, hard to breathe, building a new boat was extremely hard, carrying her pain was extremely hard.

Everyone thought it was impossible to do it, my shear will power to commit ****** one foot in front of the other, I just didn't know that going downstream was impossible.

What about the mountain?

I couldn't remember from the amnesia, the dark night blinded my sight of the mountain, the drug in me was you and it consumed, i fell in love with misery and misery loves it's companies.

I stared the snake behind the veil in the eyes, standing tall on her pedastool made of spackle it breaks, I fall onto piercing confusion, I pull out shrapnel's of dissolution, I'm covered in her blood of invalidation.

I'm already floating in the boat with her, this wasn't my plan, this wasn't my reality.
I gaze upon this woman, sun shining behind her, no clouds in the sky.
floating downstream she tells me it's faster, that we'll end up behind the mountain higher.

I'm not worried now, I'm now contempt with shame.
I already forgot reality, I already forgot i'm going downstream, I forgot the searing pain, I forgot what I believe.

I'm relaxed, I'm tired, I'm still happy in love with this spellbound misery.

As we drift slowly through the stonewalls, no light shines through, I ask her for assurance, it's getting dark, I'm getting scared.

That's when the veil comes off, that's when the unnatural beauty grows quiet, that's when my voice screams silently within these stone walls.

This isn't her, this isn't real,
I know there's love I can feel, that was our bond, that was our deal, not to steal.

I fall over board and the water is cold, there's leaches, the debris is so random, the shameful water is moving faster, the all consuming cold confusion, random gaslighting and triangulations moving in around me faster.

I immediately can't bear it. My heart pulsates hard, my mind misfires my flight mode, i cannot intake the overbearingly unowned toxic Shame, her coldness activated my fawn mode, I froze, I start to doze.

luckily she had my leg, luckily she knew excessive admiration CPR, just as my body went limp in the agonizing River of Shame, she pulls me out. luckily she got me just in time, luckily she saved my life.

I awoke away from the stonewalls, it's sunny and safe again, we're together through impossible odds, we built this boat and she saved my life.

The abuse amnesia made me forget, the cognitive dissonance was real, I am not.

The mountain was now farther away, I was worried, I grew fearful, what I wanted looked farther away, that's when everything became gloomy, my goal was no longer there, but she didn't care, she knew where the river went, I believed her, I still do.

The ambient abuse made me anxious, the atmosphere was maddening of fear, it carried anxiety, I couldn't see it, but I was breathing it in.

Her eyes were so incapacitating, her heart disorienting, her soul captivating, she had a better plan, for us to press on and build another boat, to add another life, to believe in her, to not stare at the knife.

We build another boat, were out of the shame waters finally, she's helping me, were soon to be a real family, but the only thing real here was me.

Everything is better on the land, were dry, it's sunny, it's better to feel the nirvanic sand. It's here we bring our new seed, to be sprouted downstream.

I now believe in this new mountain downstream, I don't even remember the mountain I seen, were pressing on downstream past a levy, were now in the River of Grief, we're off to the end of make believe.

This river is really turbulent with rapids of devaluation, the splashes make me irrelevant, the dinigrating actions around make me small, I feel lost and confused, nothing makes sense anymore at all.

At the mouth of the River of Grief it opens up into a valley. She jumped onto a rock of vanity and pushed the tree of disloyalty upon the boat.

This throws me out head first, but luckily I have our seed safe and sound, luckily I learned how to drown.

I turn around falling and see her at the top staring down, she smirked and throws enormously heavy anvils of bereavement to make me fall harder, to keep me down longer.

Evil is real, but only if you believe, I crave the flattery of illusionary love, I still had amnesia, I love misery, the feeling reminds me I can feel, I love my slow death so I say I'll find you, I have the seed, I'll wait for you.

As I fall the thorns of numbing premeditation pierce, the pain is searing, as I fall i'm locked on her, my falsehood of love is still enduring, I don't feel the discard, I ignore the distaste.

I land in a field of hopium still protecting the seed, my amnesia is now worse, I can't remember her smirk, I can't remember the weighted anvils of bereavement, I can't remember the tree of disloyalty, I still can't remember the mountain.

My movement is heavy like concrete, my heart sits down at my feet, my mind is nowhere to be found, my spirit is fading on this ground.

I gather everyone from a nearby village to find her, it's impossible, they can't see her, she never existed, my amnesia was now delusional, the hopium mixed realities, nothing was real, there was nothing I could truly feel because everything was wrong, but I believe misery needs me and I yearned.

I say she's at the top, we have to throw her a rope,
they say it won't reach what isn't there,
I say we need a ladder to throw the rope, they say the ladder isn't safe that high.
  
I say everyone can hold the ladder while I climb perilously to the top, they say it will never work, but since they can see me, since they see a part of me is still real, everyone holds the ladder for me.
      
While I acend with my broken dignity, I acend with a fatigued heart, I acend to find what I believe, no matter how hard I try, I will be taking my destined decent.

The top of the ladder is shaky, I spent forever getting there, it's scary, the heights bring great fear over me, more than I've ever felt, but my knighthood makes me overcome anything.

I suppress, the seed is safe down below, I'm here to impress, I can see her now, only much less.

Her snake skin is peeling, the sun scorched blistering skin shows immense pain, witnessing this releases empathy, the caring knighthood in me naturally wanted to save her again.

So I wrap what's left of my discarded soul upon my broken fatigued heart and I use my trauma bonded mind as bait.

I throw her the rope,
she catches the rope,
I tell her to tie off the rope,
she ties a noose with the rope,
her neck is now wrapped with this rope.

If she falls I can't stop the tightening of the rope, if she falls I already know I'll jump for her and release from her neck this rope.

We jump together and I release the rope around her neck, I see the ground coming fast, but I love this snake, I'll die for this snake because I believe, false beauty inside is all I see.

I grab her and turn her away from the rushing ground, I fell once, I can take the fall again.

She is already hurt, immense pain, she will not feel no more pain, because I'm not hurting for I'm with misery again, I believe I can take all the pain for her, the hopium was numbing everything I consumed.

I awoke to a distressed angel, flawed personality, beautiful nightmare, mirroring the devil, but what I saw was a veil over the snake eyes, what I saw was what I believed before.

What I had wasn't real, who I am is no longer there, for I had ambience amnesia, nothing around me fit, nothing around me was grounded, nothing around me was divine.

The eyes that gazed upon me were captivating, spriling, time froze and only she was moving, the feeling was there, a drug within me, the drug was her and I longed for the misery, I yearned for the pain to remember what was real, I needed the intermittent reinforcement, I wanted my all bets in investment back and I risked a short sale.

We faded into the black, into a new boat, she made this boat, she had plugs in  holes of the boat I couldn't see, I believed it was perfect, I didn't know what awaited was a life long anguish.

I still didn't know what was downstream is impossible, I didn't know this new River of Anguish has piranhas of triangulation, I didn't know the rapids were of oppression, I didn't know the rocks causing these rapids she already put in place, I didn't know it was so black around me in this place, I didn't know my seed would become two, I didn't know I would have to choose.

I didn't know true love was in front of me in my hands and not behind the veil, I thought it was her, all the villagers knew, but as I drew closer to the snake the darkness only grew and the seeds too.

The feeling of my lingering mortality reverberates, she built me a coffin and chained it to my ankles, with this immense weight, I carry it with me just in case.

We floated very fast down this River of Anguish, everything seemed fine to all others including me, the darkened skies covered the evil, the cold waters made my body numb, the seeds were held up high to be be safe from the tormenting waters.

As I held them up high, I didn't realize she was still holding the schraded butcher knife in the water, I didn't believe she would hurt me, I didn't conceive the possibility that knife I didn't see was there all along for me.

The waters of Anguish smothered me, the triangulating piranhas slowly nibbled on my feet in the water, the rapids of oppression kept me gazing in the water, the rocks of malice in the water tried to tip me over, but my balance was true and the seeds were safe from harm, but I am not safe, I'm dying inside.

I don't know why, but after every agonizing stab from this knife when I'm not looking, it hurts, but the numbing knife only helped me when it was pulled out, it has holes in the knife so she could pull it out without me knowing.

I always turned around and cleaned the knife covered in my blood, I always gave it back to her, but every wipe upon this blade made it grow, and every wipe made the label on the handle more clear.

I find out in the end this knife is called narcissistic rage, the brand of this knife is called gaslighting and my blood is the supply.

I didn't know any of this until it was too late to save myself, my reality wasn't real, my dreams are gone, my nightmare is all consuming and existent, my seeds are still safe, but I am not.

When I start to notice the knife exists, I forgive her, the conditioning made the skies darker, I wipe the blood off and give it back, the knife is now a sword, it's name is discard.

The waters are uneven, the piranhas of triangulation feel like strangulation, my clothes are still soaking wet with anguish, my hair is slimy and covered in Shame, my feet are cold and numb from the grief.

I can't understand why I'm here,
  I can't understand why I'm actually meant to be here.
  
Every turbulence has thrown me down, she pushes me over head first, as I try to lean up to breathe she has her foot on my neck in the cold numbing river, but this river does not affect her, this river is warmer than her, the warmth from anguish pleased her, the piranhas followed her commands to bite, she smirked as the rocks she placed crushed against my head.

She waited until I went limp every time, but she knew idealization CPR, her deceit was without compassion, her rage was without sympathy, but I had severe ambience abuse amnesia, I still couldn't remember the mountain, I am now trauma bonded from the stabs she's counting.

I only saw her veil, her gaze convinced me I placed these rocks here, her gaze made me ignore the stonewalls around me, her pure hatred was covered in false intentions, her illusion was my isolation.

As everything was becoming clearly dangerous, as everything went pitch black, I look back and see the light from the mountain glowing, I see there is something wrong where I'm at, I see the seeds are not growing, I start to see the pain all around me.

Non the wiser, I keep coming back from drowning, I keep falling for misery, I keep wiping my blood off the blade, I keep isolated, but now I feel there is something painfully wrong, the reason abates me but I feel it, it hurts, it's camouflaged by deceit, it's all in my head, my coffin is soon to be my bed.

I look to the shores, there are other villagers worried, they are waving frantically, they're pointing at a waterfall ahead, this waterfall is called Doom, this fall would be death, the sound is raging, the mouth all consuming.

I see the stream to the side that the villagers are pointing to, I see the calm waters awaiting our safety, but the boat will not fit.

Only me and the seeds are real, everything else around me is illusional, the trauma delusional, the possible harm to the seeds was not refutable, my love for misery was unsuitable.

I could see my life was in danger, I could see the stream nearby screaming safety, I knew the seeds needed me, now I can't stop shaking.

Without her knowing what I was doing, I turned my back towards her facing the water, I knew she was going to stab me over and over again until I turned around, I now see the hypnotic eyes behind the veil. Not turning around only enraged her, the blood on the knife was condesating.

  The safety of the stream for my seeds was a new found glory in my exodus.
  
I paddled with my small hands this large weighted boat towards the stream, her knife was venomous, the water was echoless, the air imparted dreadfulness, all of this was dimensionless, all of this was not real, unless I let it be, now I can see, now I can finally flee.

As I came closer to the stream the waterfall grew stronger, the pain larger, the sound louder, I knew we were closer to the end, I knew I needed to jump off with my seeds, but I know the torment will end.

I melted my enduring pain inside with molten lava heartache to mold anew, I compartmentalize because I have to choose.

I had a vision that if I jump, the seeds will be safe, the climb to the mountain can still happen, I knew I was right about how I felt all along, I realized the veil couldn't cover the true self, I now believed In me.

I now know the water air and land were not what she made me believe, I knew I didn't choose this path, I knew I could survive, I know the seeds are going to be safe now. I know because I manifested instead of throwing in the towel.

Once close enough I finally looked at her and smiled I love you, jumping into the river I could feel the bitter cold agonizing tormenting river smash me with bereavement and disillusion by dissociation, I felt the coma of trauma surround, for I am now trauma bound.

I hold my seeds up high, I kept them safe because they don't feel the water, they're starting to sprout already, no more decay.

As I climb out of the frigid waters and still dripping wet, the drops are red, my feeling is coming back, my back is full of knives, I'm scared but I survived.
Knowing the worst is over I look back to her, she is consuming the river because she was the source, everything dark folds in on itself because the light cannot touch here, for this black hole is collapsing in on itself, I cover the seeds to shield them of this exorcist, they're safe here because my love is relentless.

The tormenting pain makes it hard to stand tall, still going through bereavement of a false reality where I lost it all, the answers we're all lost in the waterfall
"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ”"" "" "" "”" "" ""
Blair Baker Jan 2010
It’s just spackle.
Cracks start
And you keep cleaning it out
And filling it up
With new brands
But it cracks again
Because it’s just spackle
And so it’s gonna crack
Because the house shifts
When it rains
When it blows
In the sun
Nothing stays the same
So spackle cracks
And that hole
Needs filling.
I’m tired of brands;
Seems there ought to
Be a Carpenter
Who’ll fix the holes
For good.
Tommy N Mar 2011
I thought about leaving you today
while spackling a bathtub.
Melissa’s patches were smooth and shined
in the husky light of rotting bathroom windows,
mine were rough, and sagged like a skin
on face in months before death.
My favorite part of that job was cleaning up afterward,
putting everything back in its place,
sweeping up the dust and closing the door behind you.
Your favorite part was tearing down the old,
digging your chisel into the wall,
and watching the pieces rain down on the painter’s paper.
They would fall with thwacks
thwack           thwack              like rain on umbrellas
heard through a second story window.
Written 2010 during the MFA program at Columbia College Chicago
love me Jan 2016
You ask me how I can love you
You who is broken, and limping, and lame
I stop you before the tear can fall
Taking them from your eyes
And crying them out my own
I tell you the truth of absolute love
I tell you I wear no blinders
I see you as you are
I see your imperfections but we are all flawed
Those minute cracks in your soul
Trickle out pain in swirling hues of tender that highlight your heart
A heart you profess is black and stone
But it beats strong within my chest
Where I will nuture it and feed it with my own
I see all the nicks and bruises and breaks
They are not reasons to walk away
They are the very thing that makes you worthy
Your damage healed in stregnth
You are not broken
You are beautiful in all things
A tender heart that bleeds for others
That hates you for not being better...for me
Don't you know?  Can't you see?
There is no better, you are as good as it gets
It is I who is unworthy
And in all your fear of being alone, you overlook the truth of who  you are
of who I am when I am with you
You see beauty in every corner of derelict
You fill my cracks with your joy
To the point where you feel you run out, not even knowing you gave it away
You see in me what I am unable to see in myself
And because it is you who sees it I believe you
I see your cracks and spackle them with love
I see the scars and am thankful you survived the journey
And tomorrow, or next week next month or next year
When you have grown strong in my love
When the time comes that you realize I am naught but pieces duct taped together
When you  see the truth of what I have always known
I will still love you
When you move on to brighter days and greener pastures
I will still love you
When you see that you are worthy of more than I am able to give you
I will still love you, as I do now
For I never learned how to unlove someone
And you have always been worthy
Dee Renee Smith Jan 2011
she touched up untended walls
all alone, no party assembled
attempting to create reactions
with her color selection
and inspire sunken eyes
with the antonym for
"you are worthless" and "no one cares"
...but the paint is peeling

and her motivation runs constant
as she prepares her endurance
to spackle and smooth grooved surfaces
prime marks and hide pitted edges
to place appropriate strokes adequately
and try a little color contrast
on previously blended door and window trim
...but the paint is peeling

now bubbles form and fall flakily at her feet
as a sleight of hand starts its mischief
of defacing the layers of her self-affirmation
with synonyms for the premature initiative she displayed
so, she drops her tools and starts peeling
removing the pain that is hindering her renewal
and covering the constant decay correctly
working toward a strengthened surface
that maintains its finish against the cruelest force
and accepts loving, touches
without turning them to criticism.
Leah Rae Dec 2012
I Decided That I'm Going To Write A Love Poem About You.*

Something I've Been Battling With For A Long Time, Like A Empty War In My Chest.
I'm Not Sure Who Brought The Trojan Horse Into My Heart And Defiled Me From The Inside Out,

But I Know That I've Decided On The Final Solution..

Some Nuclear Weaponry To End This Once And For All.

I Had This Idea In My Head That Writing A Love Poem About You Would Somehow Make Me Less Of A Poet. Instead Two Quarters Sell-Out, One Half Wannabe, One Seventh Cop-Out, And Now You're Probably Laughing At Me Because There Is No Way That Adds Up To One Whole Of Anything.

But This Is What You've Made Me Into.

We Used To Make Fun of The Girls With Their Boyfriend's Name Tattooed Across Their Collarbones, But Now I'm Sketching Out Your Initials On The Cover Of Every One Of My Notebooks, Wishing It Was My Skin.

And When I Can't Answer The Next Question In Class Because Of You, I Can't Help But Laugh, Because Suddenly I'm The Ridiculous One Now.

And That Makes Me Love You Like I Love Concerts. Being Smashed Against Seven Hundred Screaming Bodies, To Get A Glimpse At The Heartbroken Hero Who Is Singing Just For Me. The Next Morning, Every Single Part Of My Body Is On Fire, And I'd Tell Myself It Was Somehow All Worth It.

Because You See, You're  Somehow All Worth It.

Worth Being Called Every Single Cliche I've Been Battling.

I Pledged When I Was Twelve Years Old That I Would Never Cry Over A Boy. But I've Shed More Tears Between Us Then I'm Capable Of Counting. And Even Openly In Front Of You, Which Is Something I've Never Been Very Good At.

And I've Written Apologies Letters To The Both Of Us, For Not Being Everything I Could Be.

And You've Made Me Want To Make A List Of Our Every Occurrence, July Seventh, 2010,  August 14th 7:53pm, January 19th, October 29th 3:14pm, March 10th, Like A Date Book Of Every Important Moment Because I'm Afraid I Might File Them Away In The Back Of My Mind

And Then Forget Where I Put Them.  

And By Now You've Probably Noticed That I Haven't Been Able To Stick With One Single Metaphor During This Entire Poem And I'm Several Shades Of Scarlet, Because Somehow You Make It Impossible To Be Anything Except A Mess.

And That's Coming From The Girl Who Color Coordinates Her Underwear Drawer.*

You've Also Probably Noticed That My Usual Over Emotional, Polished And Perfect Poetry Of Pretty Words Has Completely Gone Missing In This Piece. And Instead All I'm Left With Is This Awkward Imagery Of Something Much Less Honorable Then What I'm Usually Referencing.

But Somehow I'm Still Smiling.

And I've Been Wearing My Heart On My Sleeve For So Long Now That I Can't Remember What Part Of My Body It Belongs In Anymore. I've Been Listening To Your Voice On Repeat So Often That It Has Became My Soundtrack.

I've Decided To Give My Empty Parts, My Fingertips, My Shoulder Blades To You As Gifts, Make-Shift Wrapped In Newspaper, Because I Didn't Have Anything Else Left.

You Took Them As Yours
Took Me As Yours

Now I Spend Every Night Connecting The Constellations In The Spackle Patterns Of The Ceiling Above My Bed, Wondering What Stars You're Staring At.

And Suddenly This Love Poem Doesn't Feel So Terrifying Anymore.

Because You've Scared Away The Sorrow, Put Hello-Kitty Band-Aids On All My Old Scars.
You Make Me Want To Make You Chocolate Chip Pancakes In Bed And, And, Read Shakespeare For Fun!
Because If I'm Sally, Then You're Jack, Rodger To My Mimi, Princess Buttercup And Wesley, Hermione Granger And Ron Weasley, Allie And Noah..

And Now I'm Rambling.

And You're Probably Smiling Again.

What I'm Trying To Say Is That I Want You To Know That I Will Spend The Rest Of The Forever You Give Me Listening To Your Voice.

Singing In The Shower, Humming In The Back Of My Mind, Whispering It To Me Late At Night, All Those Songs Of Longing.

I'll Lay Wide Awake And Listen, Repeating It Myself How Incredibly Deep You Are.

So Deep I Could Throw Myself Into You And Drown Inside You, Before I Ever Have The Chance To Come Up For Air.

And That Aching In My Chest Would Somehow Make Me Feel Like I Was Finally Home.
Lendon Partain Apr 2013
This one time...I was real happy.

All expectation had the correct tact,
had the correct sharpness,
the saturation levels were just so.
but then stuff happens
the stuffs what I'm afraid of.
not the movie reel anymore

I am no longer afraid to dance in light of passing frames on a movie screen,
or look at the actors straight in the eyes,
what happens is, the content, un-contents.

We urinate, we spew, we spackle, we ***, we ****,
we live all of life in two fiking seconds.
Thats alright,
Know one what whats right,
and thats why its right :)

So turn up the music to 50 volume on the sony.
crack a beer,
grind a little,
***** the amalgam of emotion, that is.
Emotion.

Waltz.
pushthepulldoor Mar 2015
Sometimes I get one of those nostalgic feelings rush through me whenever I get a whiff of fresh plaster or spackle. It reminds me of all those times my dad would have to patch up another hole in one of the walls. At one point he would only do it once a week. When you know that there’ll just be more the next day, why not wait a while and fix them all at the same time? Eventually he stopped fixing them altogether. I used to think it meant it was okay and that when I got angry enough I could just put a hole in the wall too and add to the collection of broken bits of my family. When my parents discovered the accumulation of chasms in my wall, my dad made me learn how to fix them because I was not allowed to react the same way as my brother. Needless to say, I rarely put my hand or foot through the walls after the first 2 times I had to fix them. I wish there was some way they could have managed to get my brother to fix the voids he’d created. Perhaps, he’d have learned how much the damage you inflict can affect those around you. I know I certainly did.
Carl Hoek Nov 2014
we sat there on the park bench to watch the passers by and to see the uselessness glisten on their faces
as if you could buy synthetic sweat in a spray bottle
i heard one of them call out up into the big bright blue sky
“ i just want to feel the lies and the spaces”
we stood still and watched one of them fly away for good.

after a while
we moved to the grass
a big green lawn on the east side of the park
place pressed down by other people sitting on blankets
just like us
but we didn’t sit
it was collapse
waterfalls and green pipe cleaners
for most of the day.
just holding and scared of what should happen next


when we start to die
apologies will be compulsory
hopefully we’ll all forgive and move on together
just like we have again, and again, and again.
Don't spackle the bowl you nasty troll.  Did you think your mommy would clean it up?  Ah ah ah...don't say a word just grab the brush before I make you drink from your cup.
Gabriela Galindo Dec 2011
I don’t sing anymore.
Ever since I quit the music ministry
and later the church all together.
I stopped singing because
the band and microphones
weren’t mine so they had to stay at the church.
That store-front wreck
slightly glazed over with peach spackle
to shoo away any indication
of its poverty or its emotional members.
And emotion was all everyone
ever heard or saw.
Even our baffled neighbors
in the two story  apartments behind us—
were subjected to a blunt
steady annoying hollow drum beat
accompanied by an old wooden rusty *****
being played by—get this---
the biggest **** I ever saw
with a parade of effeminate brothers
to the right all singing (or screaming)
to the Glory of God!
All singing…everyone
A congregation full of people
ready, anticipating the presence
of God so they could get buck-wild
jump, shout, and run down the aisles---
or at least until the organist hits E flat
(which of course is the universal
Church queue for “Y’all got 30 seconds
to give God a crazy praaaaissseeeee!”)
And crazy was exactly what took precedence.
Guys shouting themselves
right out of their britches
sisters shouting off their sweaty weaves
hollering, high pitched screeching “**’s!”.
Mytika in the back of the church
standing on a white plastic folding chair
blowing the hell out of her holy whistle
while waving a white cotton handkerchief
round and round above her head.
And all of this chaos was somehow
glued together by a subtle soothing
baseline humming ----
doom-doom-doom-doom--doom---
doom-doom-doom-doom--doom---
do­om-doom-doom-doom--doom----
doom-doom-doom…
Amongst all the noise and commotion
I was the only oddity to be found.
The only white looking person
who had the audacity to be singing into a Mic.
People falling out, shaking, rolling on the floor
was never out of the ordinary there.
But having an un-black person
a part of their unfortunate country club…was.
Out of all the paranormal spiritual metaphysical
manifestations –I turned out to be the
scariest **** they ever saw.
Because to me God wasn’t a game
or a religion or a face or a person
or a symbol I hung around my neck.
He just was—and still is—
so I could be.
I didn’t buy into the lopsided myth.
The let’s have church,
throw all our worries out the window
and act like we lost our **** minds-
Myth.
And after singing
or at least trying to sing
I had to quit.
Because after all the weird-*** ****
I had to endure and put up with----

I apparently was the only *******
there out of tune.
Kitty Parson Nov 2013
I am fond of "Spackle"
and all "ackle" words.
That makes him cackle
and it tickles my tackle
I scream like a grackle
and my ******* crackle
which raises some hackles.
PrttyBrd Nov 2014
You ask me how I can love you
You who is broken, and limping, and lame
I stop you before the tear can fall
Taking them from your eyes
And crying them out my own
I tell you the truth of absolute love
I tell you I wear no blinders
I see you as you are
I see your imperfections but we are all flawed
Those minute cracks in your soul
Trickle out pain in swirling hues of tender that highlight your heart
A heart you profess is black and stone
But it beats strong within my chest
Where I will nuture it and feed it with my own
I see all the nicks and bruises and breaks
They are not reasons to walk away
They are the very thing that makes you worthy
Your damage healed in stregnth
You are not broken
You are beautiful in all things
A tender heart that bleeds for others
That hates you for not being better...for me
Don't you know?  Can't you see?
There is no better, you are as good as it gets
It is I who is unworthy
And in all your fear of being alone, you overlook the truth of who  you are
of who I am when I am with you
You see beauty in every corner of derelict
You fill my cracks with your joy
To the point where you feel you run out, not even knowing you gave it away
You see in me what I am unable to see in myself
And because it is you who sees it I believe you
I see your cracks and spackle them with love
I see the scars and am thankful you survived the journey
And tomorrow, or next week, next month, or next year
When you have grown strong in my love
When the time comes that you realize I am naught but pieces duct taped together
I will still love you
When you  see the truth of what I have always known
I will still love you
When you move on to brighter days and greener pastures
I will still love you
When you see that you are worthy of more than I am able to give you
I will still love you, as I do now
For I never learned how to unlove someone
And you have always been worthy
111314
D Conors Aug 2010
Hum-D, Some-D,
sat alone on a wall,
Hum-D, Some-D,
had a very
hard fall,
and all the King's forces,
and all the Queen's friends
just couldn't paste, tape, glue, *****,
nail, seal, spackle, buckle,
bandage, bandaid, bubble-gum
or even sew,
D back together again
at all.
D. Conors
August 02, 2010
Tatiana Cody Dec 2010
Spackle and fresh paint,
But the holes in the walls are still there,
Like the holes in my heart are still here.

I have learned to take your fist
And kiss it with my nose.
Will I miss your “tough love” when you finally go?

Spirits ripped from small walking corpses,
This house is filled with ghosts.
I’m so ******* tired of waking with a scream in my throat.
A true story.
Waverly Nov 2011
This morning
I woke up
and
told Melissa we wouldn’t
make it past three months.

We're at month two,
and I can feel it.

Either I’d drop her, or she’d
drop me, but either way
“we don’t have staying power,
and there’s no point
in either of us
pretending like we’re grown ups
who can just power through things
out of sheer complacency”.

I wasn’t looking at her.
Just up
at the spackle and a spinning fan.

It’s so hot in here,
that we sleep on top of the covers
sweating little puddles of skin
into the comforter.

Nightly,
we mash those deposits of dried salt
deep into the mattress
with our sloughing bodies
to get stuck
and form
tiny caves of skin and boredom in the springs.

She rolled away from me
swirling off a cloud
of stale, watermelon shampoo
And reached
With a tightly domed deltoid
towards the blue milk crate
where her purse sat.

She rummaged in there,
her back muscles working
like a landslide of flesh.

She finally dropped the purse,
after an effort of five minutes,
and I heard the successful flick
of a lighter.

She started
puffing and chugging down smoke
As she laid on her side.

My eyes watered
in the bluish smog,
and as the fan turned
raining down peices of our own skin
in a dusty, undetectable cloud of particulates
I could just see her,
out of the corner of my eye,
Shifting the weight of her body
from her deltoid
to her trapezius.
Poetry by MAN Jul 2013
I have been a fool, made plenty of mistakes
Even had a few foundation breaks
Through it all I've filled the cracks
My heart has spackle from all the attacks
Unconditional love I now understand
It has made me become a better man
Though I have never felt my fathers love
I'm not the one to push and shove
I became strong cause he said I was weak
Now I'm standing here at my poets peak
Trying to make sense and understand
How did I become this poetic man?
A broken boy just like a toy
I must fix you, so I can deploy
All the wisdom and knowledge through life I gained
To stop the vicious cycle and break the chain
For now...I am a father too...
I can feel you now in the things I do
I stop the wrong and do what's right
To allow myself to sleep at night
You had no father! I understand....
You had no idea how to create a man
Its OK, from all your pain I still learned...
To be the best father from my pain I earned
As I sit back and watch my daughters climb
They are gracefully crossing many finish lines
Filling up my heart, A Papa So Proud
WHICH IS WHY I SPEAK THIS POEM OUT LOUD!
I rebuilt myself from all the damage done
Now I bloom like a flower in the morning sun
Becoming exactly what I was created to be
To break the cycle and give my family unity......
7-10-13 M.A.N
g clair Oct 2013
Early this morning
downstairs in the kitchen
new sunlight is beaming
on fresh painted isle
it spills to the floor
like water, light streaming
on warm 'Sandy Beaches'
mom's favorite tile.
  
and out through her windows
it pours in the front yard
kissing green lawn
which is littered with leaves
wet brown and orange
red, golden yellow
while shadows are present still under the eaves

coffee steam rising
it wafts up the staircase
and into the room where I'm barely asleep
awaken my senses
and draw me to sitting
when off of the mattress I suddenly leap

Today is a brisk one
my window cracked open
cause breathing cool air to me always feels best
I play with the thermostat
keep myself cozy
I'm layered on thickly, topped off with a vest

So I sit here writing, while tile guy cutting
the ones he will place near the door to our home
upon which will stand all our autumnal guests who are shopping for houses
not reading this poem.

I've turned up the music, Bon Iver,  
with coffee to  comfort the artisan working his trade
along with his help who'd complained of a headache
his sinuses cleared with medicinal aid.
  
And letting the morning lapse into the noonday
while dew's burning off, we'll be singing a song
blue sky or cloudy, misty or raining
it's daytime, we're doing and rolling along.

And as I tap lightly, I am seriously sinking
in work I must finish to ready this place
today I am painting a bedroom and thinking
how lovely it is to create, to erase

all of the bumps and the holes from our living
I'll spackle and sand to a smooth starting clean
so nice that old wallboard can be so forgiving
and I prefer flat paint without any sheen.
  
the sun's setting quickly
but night-time comes slowly
as it is common to dusk on the land
revealing the stars I can see further out
and enjoying the evening, with nothing else planned.

I trudge to the place where
my day always ends
and isn't that something, just as it begins
I pull back the covers and
punch up the pillow
and ask Love's forgiveness for all of my sins.

Nobody tells us to keep our lives simple
a choice that we make to be glad less the gold
for the things that are free less the stuff that we carry
a pleasure to have which will never grow old.
Waverly Mar 2012
We place our wishes
in the canines
of spackle.

Above us the teeth
wait
to be broken.

While we watch
the Dog Whisperer
breaking
mustangs,
I wrap my arm
around the eternal flatness
of your shoulder.

We say nothing,
we don't even whisper
as our dreams fall around us,
in an automatic spray.

I get on the coffee table,
to fix the fan.

You arc your neck
around me,
like a diamondback
you coil until you feel the heat
of the tv in your eyes,
on your cheeks,
on your lips.

As you watch Cesar
more than me,
I dust our dreams off
of the fan.

I am a sculpture
that you must break your neck to get around
as I fidget with the monkey wrench.

There is nothing eternal,
we burn our love
like shoots of wheat,
so much beige grass
extending over your shoulder
into forever.

What kind of dogs
are we?

The ones that no longer
know the plains
of each others' fur,
the fire in our teeth,
the sun of each others' eyes,
the rain of our lips.

There is too much heat between us,
too much dryness now,
not enough calcium raining
from basalt clouds.

What I'm trying to say,
is that I do not explode
like a force of nature,
I am rock.
R W Sep 2013
Me.
I'm from sawdust and spackle,
Nails and hammers and wood stain.
I am from watching my dad
Building
And creating.
I'm from Legos, building
Alongside my dad.

I'm from reading,
Harry Potter and Eragon
And Goosebumps.
I'm from books,
Piles,
Covering the TV.

I am from music,
Practicing and rehearsing and dancing.
I am from the sing-song of strings
And the plinking of the keys.
I am from the rhythms in my veins.
From following in
My sister's
Footsteps.

I am from me.
Zulu Samperfas Oct 2012
What are you thinking?
What are you made of?
You brush against me, it's like steel
what is it, to live in a body made of granite?
Your expression so down
In the afternoon, come to think of it
in the morning, too
Why? You tell me nothing
The power, you must be a blank to me
I see you eye so many women
Their ******* make you hot, I see in a meeting
Their long hair, like your daughters
When they hold it up, and sway towards you
As they pontificate, arching their backs
in your direction
Showing you their feminine articles on their chests
As your eyes zoom in
You are wicked, little man
You can't hide it. Never learned.
Mouth moves, like a baby wanting a meal
You are aging
Painting your "girls" rooms
While your wife wrings her hands
The girls have grown and don't come home
Will they come if you spackle?
What drives you?  
Little man, with power over me
I imagine, myself covered in oil
Doing a dance before you
Seeing what it's like to be naked for your
emptiness
Oh, power, that I don't have
Oh, little man, that is what I want
That power, not what lies behind your eyes
The world is now a medley
Contradictions, paradoxes, and catch-22s
Values and morals broken
by Tolerance

And this is incidentally overly-permissive
her secret is...

The very infrastructure
The basis of normalcy is
not just broken down
But warped altogether
Shabby Spackle cracks reveal CHANGE
Ephemeral periods to lick wounds
That are, indeed, a fallacy
And the dogs howl for convalescence
Imagine the point of no return,
where light can only remain an idea
for the overwhelming pitch black veil enveloping you
Faces distant blur as shadows creep contemptuously
Through a place only light should know
The gateway to the soul has been breached!
Defaced, sold.
With a guaranteed price tag!
Because...?
*Silence
this poem is not about government policy
Waverly Jan 2012
The raven
descended
last night.

Flapping black wings
opened up a hole in my ceiling.

Spackle rained
in drips
of sweat.

The raven opened its beak,
laid down
and spread its wings on my chest.

A black man
was shot to death
on a clear day.

With his hands up
and nothing in his  
spread fists
they still shot him.

The raven came to comfort me in the loudness
of a coughing,
suppressed cry.
kfaye Feb 2016
and the grass was ******* green
and the land unfolded into an ancient
suicide pact
it thanked us.
like a kettle that spits hot when it pours-
like a ring finger that shrivels in the cold-
like plastic that splits open at the seams-
like a goblin's sabbath-
like blood where it belongs-
like rust-
like any sky seeking a wall to shine on.
inside of a room/
but what they don't understand is that i am
cool.
and under a strawberry duress-
honey-drop guns fell down to the earth
drinking me.
i
found you there
hiding under an old chair leg. in an indentation left in the rug-
long since the table gets thrown
away
and the world gets remade again,
and i took the old bodies and hid them.
and in the end again,
(you are choking)
i met you there
under all the promise of a yandere moon.
gleaming pale as your voice yet faltering into the
shadows grovelling at your feet.
wanting to peel off its ugly skin.
standing dumb
in the absence of news.
and
her
hands fluttered as he crumbled through the door
she smiled like a ballpoint scrawled down the spackle of the front
hall
the landing creaked as you crept.

we wanted to wade down the hairy stairs and outside-
see the the stars whipping out their **** down at us
from above
.
you touched your arm
SophiaAtlas Mar 2019
It couldn't have been me.
See, the direction the spackle protrudes.
A noisy neighbor? An angry boyfriend? I'll never know. I wasn't home.
I peer inside for a clue.
No! I can't see. I reel, blind, like a film left out in the sun.
But it's too late. My retinas.
Already scorched with a permanent copy of the meaningless image.
It's just a little hole. It wasn't too bright.
It was too deep.
Stretching forever into everything.
A hole of infinite choices.
I realize now, that I wasn't looking in.
I was looking out.
And he, on the other side, was looking in.
sabrina Mar 2014
i miss your stupid sneakers covered in stupid plaster and spackle.
From Jess's Lips Mar 2016
There are one hundred and twenty six tiles on my ceiling
If you count all the halves.
I know because sleeping is what normal people do in their bedroom
and normal is not my favorite descriptive word.
Why say you're normal when you could be
fabulous,
magnificent,
tenacious,
or incorrigible?
But why would I ask you?
It's obvious you don't know the rules of the game
because why would you say you love me
when you don’t?
Is it because my halves
don’t add up to perfect tiles?
I know I have a few cracks,
some warped edges,
and missing chunks,
But my imperfections tell a story;
I won’t hide behind flat spackle.
Besides,
I always thought my ceiling
could use a few stains.
Why am I awake?
Oh yeah.
You.
Overthink
Overthought
What am I
To get over?
She is the real Durden
Everything that I am not
But an apple turnover,
Spickle and spackle
Listen to the crinkle
And the crackle,
What plays the mind
If the records
No longer spin,
Retreat retreat retreat
On repeat
No baffle
To this wiffle
Waffles in the AM,
Pockets empty
There is nothing to collect
Unemployed dreams
I question the sparkle,
The sweet of the sprinkles
This life long ago wrecked...

APAD16 - 006 © okpoet
Brother Jimmy Nov 2015
~~><~~
Sockety chispy
Maffa-locee yum
Crots in the pots and
Boogey Man's thumb

Fickle spackle crumb cake
Rintrah's roarin' too
Roostah-puck 'n fleasteak
Elephant shoe
~~><~~
(Silly shizz)
Sarah Kunz Jul 2016
Your crescent eyes look at me moist like a marshy pond.
All the pain and beauty those eyes have ingested glossy and confused.
"I'm a **** up" you say as you drop the news.
You search so desperately to find a title to straighten your spine and give your story a purpose your flesh cannot find.
You are tremendous, a testament of life. Your eyes are a chasm of brooding emotion, utterly human.
I know how ravenously you claw and peck at the festering flesh of others searching for the nectar the cloying sweetness you miss within yourself.
But you are the golden honey ***.
You mistake the swarming bees for tasteless wasps.
You are horribly misconstrued.
The boys that bask themselves in synthetic sugar are simply hiding their innards of soot and poo.
I forgive you, but this doesn't matter.
You must find the golden honey gleaming behind the spackle of false propaganda you call your marrow.  
You are complete.
There is nothing dead inside you, things simply need tended to.
You are human, please never forget.
**** up is simply the veil you wear to hide this fact.
Maha May 2021
if I could hold my breath
and become the spackle on the wall

I would

if I could paint myself into the background noise

I would

yet somehow
sans any concurrence
I am dragged into the spotlight
notions of wonder and gold dancing beyond my eyelids

I'm told I'll be glitter and gold and all things good
but to hang as a portrait on the wall

aye, I would.
about me

— The End —