"steroid" poems
An enhancing drug to increase massive body tone
But let me tell you to leave that steroid drug alone
Body composition improvements will be shown
There are health risks that aren’t known
The outside body appearance you will in the enhance
But the health issues you are betting on chance
Your heart will enlarge
Let that awareness give you a charge
Next you will have kidney problems
Later everything in your body will shutdown
Unless you stop steroid usage, you will be getting closer to being coffin bound
The utterance will be no sound
Instead to trying too quickly steroid build up
Go natural and see your beauty while you hold your head up
It is not worth the rush of death
When it comes to enhancements there will be nothing left
When you use steroids you become a walking time bomb
The signal will be its own sounding alarm
Stay away from steroid enhance while you still got the chance
It’s natural all the way given the endurance too advance.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
The apartment hasn’t been cleaned for so long and has housed a depressive in it for the same length of time so that there is a glaze of slime-dirt on the floor, made of dried coffee, hot chocolate, maybe some **** or some spillage from a tube of steroid cream to treat an inflammation that never really goes. The rate of ooze changes?. Clean textiles are piled up on the floor, never having been folded, and mix here and there with ***** practical fatpants that make me look like a geologist and white-white cotton blankets that can be washed on HOT with lots of bleach that I purloined from some mentalhealthfacility. The inbox is full of—is bristling with—remonstrances from Programs for the Nondoer—you haven’t filed, haven’t turnstiled, haven’t had your hologram chip assessed by central CENTRAL intelligence, what is wrong with you. Upon stepping outside there is a beat during which I think maybe somewonder might swirl and buoy but no, just wethumid and ***** sidewalks cruddy and Haitians and quasi-Haitians muttering “taxitaxitaxi” in front of their Gypsy conveyances with their dubious certifications. I should go for a ride in one, a dubious passenger for a dubious palanquin. I tried the library but it was too hot and decrepit and too filled with Books For African-Americans, which always ****** me off; are only African-Americans going to read Wright or Douglass or Brooks? Everyone is overrated, anyway, movies and theater and the moribund beat of commerce, and as the dangerous autos pass, sometimes not running you over, you can see morechange in the pockets of the shareholders of BeePee and Iacocca Coach-Wirx. Any friendliness exhibited seems to contain an underovertone of You’re Not Included Whiteboy White ****** Ghost ***** all archaic names I’ve been almost astounded to be called usually while balancing on tiptoe on some lurching, roaring dieselbus, grinding past off-off-off brand groceries that do a dubious business. While making my police report I wink at a sevenyearold boy and I get a lustrous wink back butalas this is not enough to beat back those slurrycolored brainfazes.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
Backed and sponsored by the cabinet
Our heads on the server and internet
BCI experiments while we're under the duvet
Foot-soldiers follow orders on their handset
Rockwell is not paranoid
They've seen us on the TV,
iPad, iPhone, and Android
The BCI app that makes us annoyed
Please God, destroy that satellite with an android
My doctor is like Sigmund Freud
Give him the anti psychotic steroid
For making money off the unemployed
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 9:33 AM UTC
If I listened to every advertisement
hollering through the static
of my cable-hooked television,
I'd have a mammoth bottle
of Hidden Valley Ranch
sitting with the ego-quenching sheen
of recommendation in my fridge,
a Weight Watchers membership
(it told me to join as soon as possible
with the speed of a steroid-devouring treadmill),
Children's Tylenol
(despite being situationally barren),
and a Bowflex-shaped elephant,
ivory tusks slumping uselessly in the corner.
My living room would be the fraternal twin
of the American Smithsonian,
a faux-genuine quilt
of our Founding Fathers'
present day descendants
draping over my popcorn ceiling.
I return to the latest
sacred cow in the flea store
cartel of Lifetime Movie heroines;
it's "Vengeful Vixens Sunday"
and Elizabeth Berkley shooting men
and stabbing women in the back
all while eating buckets of Ben and Jerry
and getting addicted to crystal ****
The dialogue is as freshly
packaged and slovenly edible
as the Minute Ready Late Night Dinner
with a cartoon grandma plastered on the logo,
all to remind you of down home,
or in the case of this Lifetime screenplay,
a time when the brain wasn't fully developed.
Same difference.
We all hide our guilty pleasures
as if our tolerance for the
secondhand existence of these favorites
were deemed malignant
by a cardboard kingdom
of young adult sophistication,
but I ask you:
who hasn't slipped into the comfort
of a mind turned to mush?
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:55 AM UTC
Fighting for Freedom
Not my freedom
mine is not the
ludicrous "Freedom" you all worship
Not the steroid enhanced
the technologically advanced
the impressively entrancing
Spiteful, Ignorant
all-knowing, all-hating "Freedom"
that empowers you all to fear
anything different. The "Freedom"
that entitles you all to
subdue or eliminate everything
"not you",
Rather,
Anyone seen as a threat to
the mind-numbing culture
created by your "Freedom"
What Freedom?
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 12:41 PM UTC
You think your children are being educated
But they're actually being ego deflated
They aren't being taught
How to form a thought
Because ...
That's not good for the machine .
You hear the fringe word
meditation
As if it's some kind of voodoo
incantation
Instead they want you to be fed
A steady stream of entertainment
As a way of keeping containment
Off the Grid
Off the grid
The inspector said
We can't be having that
Regulations regulations regulations
Thats all he had to say
Truth be known ...
.....he was just a clone
Latest model on display
Notice how the men in blue
Are becoming almost savage...
....In their demeanor
As they are primed to follow blind
The Crooked Mind
Of the Master overseer
So totally convinced
That they never even sensed
They never were...
..really
A volunteer
Primed and loaded
Each one having been pre - coded
By the educators in the classrooms
That are
The soul burning incinerators
Burning away every trace
Of any human emotions
While swallowing down
Steroid laced
Psychotic mind bending potions
As the rest of us are being fed...
... instead
Of our daily bread
Mind bending views
Prepackaged news
To keep us all shuffled up
Off center
So as to totally confuse
That way we don't ever wonder
Why we choose
Once we find we're standing
In the line to buy the latest toys
Keeping our heads filled..
..with noise
That way
We don't have any time to think
As long as everyone behaves.
They'll never know
That they are slaves
No shackles , chains or wooden canes
To keep the masses in production
We have the latest must-haves ..
.... new introductions.
But time to sit and think......
That's not what the machine wants
Us to do !
That's not
In the latest matrix
Silencing the external
In search of those things
That should be ETERNAL
Will make you unfit for society
As your number is etched
Into
The overseers recorder
In this ....
...THE NEW WORLD ORDER.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 12:41 PM UTC
Honorable politician,
Truthful and without ambition,
Found behind bars his own place.
Such a lucky mental case!
Her eyes are truly not hypnotic
Although her smile is mystery,
Each man by nature too myopic
Is guilty of adultery.
Because she had an empty purse,
Yet smiling strange like La Joconde,
He drove his Jaguar in reverse
Thinking she was another blonde.
She had a few coins for grissini,
Wearing her old and too short skirt.
With mercy, dressed in white silk shirt,
He bought for her pretty bikini.
A young woman said: “My love is like sunshine”.
An old woman whined: “My rheumatism foretells rain”.
I stood silent between them, under cloudy skies,
Believing the weather report lies.
Sigmund Freud,
Before others find the steroid,
Dived his nose under the *** drive,
But ******* kept him alive.
Schizophrenia survey:
Doctor: Have you ever had hallucinations?
Patient: No, have you ever seen a schizophrenic?
D: Are you a ******
P: No, until I meet the right man.
D: Have you heard strange voices around?
P: No, my parrot doesn't speak.
D: Do you think you are a great woman?
P: No, I killed only a few cockroaches, with too much spray.
D: Do you think you are a martyr?
P: No, martyrs are killed in a short time and everyone is happy afterwards.
D: Do you think you should die?
P: No, it is better on the floor than below.
D: Can you forgive others' sins?
P: No, Jesus Christ was better than me.
D: Do you think you have enemies?
P: No, I don't have a hammer drill.
D: Do you love your mother?
P: No, only our feelings are the same.
D: Did you try to **** yourself?
P: Yes, because whatever I asked, others said NO.
Patient: Doctor, what are you thinking now?
Doctor: That you never think.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
lines of reach are radio waved
touch is by text with calloused
index fingers.
Microwaves surround and direct us to go where
we are going blue teeth phones we twitter
looking at thinner screens.
I quit. Need a twelve pack
and a dove sitting on wire
and free TV and a non- nuked
non- steroid and antibiotic genetic non- altered corn of cob
and leg of fried chicken and two good women.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Moon
Moon
Moon!
You’re so creative
Show that sun how to change!
Such range
Give us Gibbous
Then present the Crescent
Earth’s natural satellite
Broadcasting abroad
Casting Lunacy
Across the skies, broad
Tied
To the gravitational pull
But never falls
Please release
That ever so decadent
Blue Moon Cheese
My father
Used to read
Me to sleep
Up crept
The man on the moon
As I slept
Watching o’er me
Rising
Sometimes surprising the sun
Piercing the daylight
With a bright orange hue
Who are you
I wonder
Never cared
For the ego
Of the stars
Shooting
For my attention
Apollo
Followed you
Like a dream
And quite possibly
Ended the war
Your iron core is
Rock solid
Was knocked off
The face of the earth
You’re a third its size
I wish my soul
Left with you
After the asteroid
Set you free
One day
Rather night
We’ll see
If steroid strength
Can find
The energy
To make
This giant leap
For mankind
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 5:46 PM UTC
Merely Love Is Not So Strong At All,
It Requires Cementing From Trust,
More Hard Work Keeps The Promise,
Inputs From Romance Are Steroid,
Many Failed In This Hardest Exam.
Both Of Us Feel A True Form Of Love,
Happiness Tinkling At A Distance,
Bathing In This Elixir Of True Love,
Helping Live Each Other In Being,
Being Happy Or Happier & Happiest..
You Are My Antioxidant-I Am Yours,
I Am Living This Refurbished Life,
Yes You Are The One Who Loves Me,
I Have Committed To You My Life,
Your Youth Yearns My Experience...
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
Grad me footless,
World class; fruitless,
Jumping backwards,
Three steps; bootless.
Call me stupid,
Call me smart.
Call me funny,
Fire for the dead head-start.
Breaking windows,
Crashing cars;
Wasting nights,
In dead-end bars.
Losing grip,
Of jaded souls;
Ditching all our,
Larger goals.
Flying solo,
Through the void;
Running low,
On blood-steroid.
Washing freshmen,
Clean of youth;
It hurts, I know,
Like sugared- tooth.
Growing up,
Is tough, it seems;
But through the thick,
A bright light gleams.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 9:55 PM UTC
Somedays, I feel it swallowing me.
******* me down like a half-priced, happy hour, fruity ******* drink.
Somedays, I can't even find the top or bottom or inside or out.
Like my Grandpa with his first iPod.
Somedays, I feel it shouting at me, "You're not better than this".
You sound just like my mother.
Somedays, I give in to it.
Like we're in a thumb war, and it's the 8th grade bully with mutant steroid fingers.
Then I remember.
It's just my bed.
And it's really time for me to wake up.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Trying to bleed out every last word that's sitting behind the brain barrier.
I'm afraid I'll lose composure if I get rid of all that juice.
Steroid in my can
I'm juiced.
I heard a good tang/space reference.
Let's pretend that I'm good with wit.
You could be a comic
You're a funny guy.
I sense turbulence
You caught me off guard.
You're not wrong
You caught me off guard.
Let's break up
You're not wrong
You caught me off guard.
I want you
Let's break up
You're not wrong
You caught me off guard.
---
I have somebody else count it.
Throw a brick, and miss.
I meant to do that.
I meant to do that.
Drown out self importance
Drown in self impotence
Drown in self importance
Drown in self
Not that it matters, but I'm not really impotent
Impatient, maybe, but not impotent
Erectile dysfunction
I only relate with the latter of the two words.
I'm done. I think that's it.
Bled out
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
Neck muscles vigorously strained
Pulled out like a wet frail rotted rope
Fastened together by a rusted lock with piercing sharp edges
Porcelain beads of sweat cling to pulsating vines
Staring up, as if something of hope is there
Intense powered complex thinking
No movement, just a frozen dead stare
Straight glance of light into a darkness covered cave
A battle royale of steroid induced thoughts
The mind, a cage match of soft pinkish flesh
Each thought it wearing armor of dull chilled spikes
Pain shoots through the cranium as each thought collapses into the cage
The eyes, a vortex into another world, look onward
Tears stream down of drunk crimson liquid
Leaving a salted burned trail down each toughened cheek
Stinging each eye with a impoverished sob
The mouth of dried ***** sand paper stays creaked open
A spiral of silk heated air escapes, but with no sound attached
Quivered lips cut from bitter winded blades
A soiled red with a blanket of cotton white
The position of deep depressed nauseating thoughts
The body is powerless and deathly limp
Glued to the seated area, as if it always lived there
A doll, a puppet to its overpowering super brain
Stuck in a painful vision
Will I return?
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 9:13 PM UTC
No place to sleep
My bed is all there is
Let me take care of you, Allyson
Allyson.
That name on his tongue
You feel heavy
You don’t feel **** anymore
Sweating
You’re sweating and sweating and sweating and sweating
Hands on your hips
Hands
On
your
Hips
God you’re so STUPID
You’re so so so STUPID
Lie down
Keep to yourself
Nothing will happen just keep to yourself
Look at the ceiling
You’re ok
You’re ok
Throw up
You’re ok
Leave at 6am
It will disappear
It will disappear
But it doesn’t
People are saying something about crying ****
No you just think he made you feel uncomfo-
You never said anything about ra-
You’re a feminist
You’re a contradictory *****
You’re a gazelle and four cheetahs are
Ripping
You
Apart
You’re losing touch
Hives
Hives
Hives
All over your body
Steroids
Steroid pills
Steroid injections
Mom it’s poison ivy
Mom it’s the laundry detergent
Mom it’s the overwhelming anxiety that is consuming even the largest ***** of your God-forsaken body and it’s on your hips
Hands
On
Your
Hips
You’re sick
You’re sick again
You want to die again
Prozac again
20mg this time
the dreams
the dreams are so vivid
google search: how to tell your boyfriend his best friend violated you in a nightmare for the third night in a row
friends
losing
friends
fights and fights and fights
no one cares and you don’t either
how are you supposed to care when all you see when you look at them is
Hands
On
your
Hips
And the dreams. The ******* dreams
Who would believe the dreams
Who would care
give them the glare, give them your signature glare
they don’t understand they will never understand they don’t want to ever ******* understand
walk alone
eat alone
read alone
alone alone alone
it’s better that way
it’s almost over
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
Black, space, satiated void,
a meaty elixir, romanticised steroid,
a lens through which we see the heart,
a core, a seed where life shall start.
I hope in deepest darkest dreams,
that life shall come as godly fiends,
to shame us all and show us splendour,
our childhood may we then remember.
When stars were bright and mighty things,
more than flame in frost,
they inspired our hearts and dreams,
the gifts that we have lost.
I look up and I see them each,
looking down on me.
worlds and stories I'd like to see,
but sadly cannot reach.
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 7:10 AM UTC
Brain Warp
Heart is a pounding,
shadows are surrounding.
Clock is a ticking,
my nose I'm picking.
Trying to keep control,
smoking a big fat bowl.
Smoking the moments when,
the darkness comes again.
Let's do the brain warp today,
it's really the only way.
Pass to the left, pass to the right,
don't forget to bring a light.
Knees feeling kinda weak,
people think you're a freak.
A pelvic ****** causes pain,
you start to go slowly insane.
Let's do the brain warp today,
if need be, I will have to pay.
It's so dreamy,
fantasy equals creamy.
Starting to sweep the nation,
so high, I need a translation.
Do what you want, mind will flip,
soon you'll see time start to slip.
You're spaced on medication,
it's the greatest sensation.
Let's do the brain warp today,
whether you're straight or gay.
Well, I was walking down the road,
stepped on some jumpy toad.
Then some strange guy,
gave me the most evil eye.
He was driving in his truck,
I say to myself, what the ****
I was getting paranoid,
he must be on a steroid.
Let's do the brain warp today,
nothing else left to say.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
I was born in Puerto Rico
I grew up with an alchoholic abusive father
He would hurt my mom
We came to the USA when I was 5
To get away from him
My mother found a better man
When I was 7 we wrent back
Around that time
I developed an ear infection
It was very noticeable
Every one would avoid me
I had no one to talk to
At age 9 I had my first surgery
It fixed my infection
I had a scar that grew behind my ear
People thought I had a worm or something
So again I was alone
After a while I had another surgery
To remove the scar tissue
To fix my inner ear
They fixed my ear although I lost
65% of my hearing in one ear
But the scar tissue grew back
A year after I had my last surgery
To remove the tissue
I would need steroid shots in my ear
I got a got a couple of shots
But the insurance wouldn't cover more
So it eventually grew back
I started to grow my hair
So to cover my ears
My junior year of high school
I noticed the scar had shrunk
I felt better about my self
So I got a nice hair cut
A new style a new me
Except I was very shy
I guess I still am
Theres alot more to write
But I'll leave it for another day
I will say
I suffered through alot of things between all that
Much like most teenagers do
Bullying, anxiety, acne, feeling alone, thoughts of suicide, self harm, rejection, and more
But I never gave up hope
I know there are people out there
That have it worse
But it does get better
It sounds so cliché to say that
But its true
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
We saw it burn
Now I’m concerned
With what can be learned
Before we return
To what we know
The status quo
With nothing to show
Can someone say whoa!
Let’s tear a small page
From the outrage
When kids are engaged
They don’t usually stage
The kind of destruction
That leads to reduction
In the production
Of new construction
Out of the fallen ashes
From our past clashes
Let’s find what surpasses
Ignoring the masses
Why can’t we fill the void
Like an anabolic steroid
For the underemployed
Whom we usually avoid
Subtract the crime
Which I can’t cosign
From the paradigm
Don’t let it define
The legitimacy
Or what well might be
The urgency of now
Which is key anyhow
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
(( ))
Demons !
""
See all the businessmen
Dancing slimy Paedophiles
************ with each other
On the beach at dawn
Ooh ooh ooh
Bombs are falling on the children
Flesh is burning we are wondering
When will Joey come back again
And **** me numb
ooh ooh ooh
/:/
Tea party communist ISIS terrorist
New York Yankees Steroid using
Home run hitting old man
••
••
Oh we
Take our dying so seriously
Throw our lives away
Praying to illusions
For god knows whose sake !
///
What we see is what we get
We ain't seen each other yet
We don't know the HOLY BREATH !
we cry to no one at all
We don't care if some other falls
We take ourselves so seriously
Knowing we are nothing
More
Than silliness
Impersonating
A human being
••
Businessmen are Paedophiles
Children are burning in the streets
We act like filthy lumps of meat
To be used and abused for free
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
We take them so seriously
As we lie broken on the floor
As we lie there so whorishly
Trying to sell ourselves for MORE
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
From the pockets of people on the street,
to the boxes under the beds of young teens.
I’m everywhere, but nowhere all the same
And I have become the biggest problem of society’s everyday.
The COD of celebrities-
An overdose, and what a shame.
That the blame goes to something that
People can’t control, there’s nothing gained
something out of their hands
and unless it’s a big name,
like Michael, Amy, Cory, River,
the lives that death has claimed
seem to not matter.
...
Why do they not matter?
Post a picture of a teen who passed of overdose-
See how many, “sympathetic” likes and shares and votes.
The people who share don’t get it,
for their hearts are not broke
and their loved one isn’t ripped from them,
like velcro.
They don’t want to let go,
Their mind’s about to blow
from the stress of tears and fears and they ask themselves:
Why?
Why them?
Did I make them do that?
Am I the cause for their disbelief and a lacking accommodation?
It only hits years later that it actually wasn’t their fault.
Flash forward- ten years later.
People remember the big names who passed-
Biggie, Heath, Whitney,
All because of me,
but what about Alexander Morisen, barely 14?
You shared his picture all those years ago.
I took his life too,
but no- he doesn’t matter,
to anyone but the grieving
family and friends who live
every day without the
highlight and creation that I myself destroyed
their happiness is void
due to simple curiosity,
which became an addiction,
like some sort of anabolic steroid.
I take the blame for games that are played
with teenagers and adults all the same,
those who give in to shame
in the trade in which society forbade,
like someone had just dug your grave
with a shovel, and was now waiting for you,
to take the jump that came with the game
that you, yourself, have played with me.
I take the blame because no one else will,
because it doesn’t matter if it was on purpose
or accident,
people hate to talk about it,
because if it isn’t talked about,
it isn’t real.
But it is real, it’s so real and people everyday
learn about this mistake in the hard way.
Because society is not educated-
they don’t know what to do until it’s too late,
and then act all sorrowful as if they knew them.
They didn’t.
I did,
and I take the blame.
I’m sorry for what I’ve done.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
When the words first came out of his mouth I was squeezing her hand
My brain was in jeopardy of knocking down the very last domino to the apocalypse
Our tongues paralyzed
Our hearts pizza dough being thoroughly kneaded with Titanium knuckles
Organs being scrunched up like those As Seen On TV pocket garden hoses
Then a small shy sound is heard inside my cranium
A quivering voice shyly saying
"May, it can't be that bad. It's just like Surfing. Surfing in the wipeout zone"
That one timid voice paused all chaos
Each domino standing back up,
Resuming its natural and rightful spot
I turned to Morgan and smiled a big goofy grin
And as I grinned I said
"Morgan, love, it's just like surfing. And I know there is no board that you can't ride."
She then looked back up at me and laughed.
"Okay then. Come on, the ocean is waiting for us."
Morgan paddled out into the calm ocean and there was no hesitance to start the wild ride that we she embarked on
Because we knew that it couldn't wait.
It took months before balancing became manageable, for that's what eight rounds of chemotherapy can do to a person
Like oxygen corroding the Statue of Liberty in the rough rain storms of New York
And as much of a rigorous athlete she was, she could not avoid the first gnarly tidal wave, or those following in its footsteps
And then there was the last wave that glided into a series of tubes. At any moment she could collapse within
I remember in the break between the first and second tubes our wishes were granted
We were married in the tiny chapel inside the hospital.
And I kissed her
I kissed her radioactive lips and her puffy steroid chipmunk cheeks
I hugged and caressed her bony body with tubes all attached
I kissed her for the last time
In the third tube, right before her eternal coma she asked me a question.
"I had to wipe out sometime didn't I?"
I wept a monsoon on months end
When it was suggested to terminate life support , through barrels of tears I nodded only thinking about that one question.
Yes Morgan. Yes.
"You had a good run" I say holding her hand as her monitor went beep beeep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
I don't know why my heart stopped when I saw you.
I don't know why I fumbled over my words more than usual.
I asked you twice nearly thrice how you were doing
and tripped into the desk
and shuffled my piles of books onto the desk-
God I was so awkward
but you just smiled and shook your head-
like you did long ago.
You asked me what I was doing
and my brain rocketed to the ends of the earth and back
desperate to find something cute, clever, and witty to say,
I so badly wanted to be interesting-
for you to think I'm interesting-
But somehow the only thing I managed to say was
"nothing"
and you smiled and looked at me with those big,m familiar brown eyes
and I couldn't place how I felt.
I couldn't keep myself from remembering.
I felt so safe in your arms,
wandering the forest
and napping in that boat
at the edge of that lake
while the party raged behind us on land.
I thought it was cool that you had been to juvy
and I'm a sucker for asians
and you didn't mind that I was a loser
and the way you pulled me closer
and burried your face in my neck-
I've only ever wanted to feel safe,
and I felt safe with you.
and today as I fumbled to act normally
I saw that you still didn't care that I was a loser,
and in all your steroid-esque muscle
and thick bag that you had put yourself together
after your third round at Juvy last year.
I don't think I ever liked you,
and you never liked me,
so I don't know what it is I feel
or why I stumbled so,
but I have a small fear inside
that worries this feeling is from seeing
that you are very much different from then,
and I am very much the same.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
Foot steps
Bound together
In a human race
Stimulated,
Hunger for change
Heralds heaven
Muscle relaxed
A survivor
Aroma of addiction
Asked,”how far did you played?”
Now, running level two
Viciously described
Get me a Steroid
From those with healing hands
Withdrawal symptoms
Flooding all systems
Begins a new world within
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC