im done learning a language rooted in vanity
like I need to take a selfie for my latest avi to go along with that tweet
and we're up in arms fighting, but its on the hush hush in our subtweets
thinking these anons that ask questions to boost my self security
telling friends, give me just an instant to update my insta
yeah, we're full of wit
spitting captions to gain cheap chuckles
lacing 140 characters together to make a point
less, we're spending time thinking of a cheap rhyme
while in the meantime our headlines are suffering from the lack of attention
because if one more ******* person tells me they're gaining fame
online
with meaningless angles, and pop culture retweeted
im going to lose my ******* mind
this **** is such a waste of time
this shrine made up of the kind of things you call mine
and we're washing out the brilliant minds
that are taking the time
to tell you something worthwhile
we're using a shovel as a ***
and plowing this tool into the ground
when artists all around are trying to dig through the *******
just to show you
that somethings are actually worth noticing

The first night is always the worst
When the two of you have reached the ****** of the argument and he spits on your worth by finally admitting that there is someone else...
It's kind of funny because when I was younger I thought people were just being dramatic when they said "love hurts" blah blah blah
but love.. that **** hurts.
I didn't want it to be goodbye
I closed my eyes hoping that the night would somehow make it better
That tomorrow would seal this letter that my heart was too afraid to send
Sincerely yours
Was I really yours?
Or was this all just pretend?
Maybe this is why love letters have gone extinct because their too permanent
Innocent white paper being held accountable for promises that it knows you won't keep.
White paper, so traditional like ill fitting wedding dresses
Like the absence of color
The absence of color on my cheeks.
I don't blush anymore.
I started wearing more eyeliner and maybe I'll pick up smoking or drinking.
You always thought drunk was the ugliest thing to be because of your father.
Don't look at me.
Stop sending mixed signals ok?
You know I'm gullible and I'm not sure if you're taking advantage of my vulnerability or if you really are just "checking up on me" with that unnecessary 'What's up?' text because I usually read it as a secret apology
Because if you were really happy with your decision to leave you wouldn't be looking back.
Don't talk to me.
I'm trying to be happy without your name in my most recent calls.
I hate how we shared plans, insiders, gifts, and art because my bedroom hates me now
And the radio station and my future too.
I hate how my little brother still asks about you
I hate how you smelled like nature
Now I can't even walk home without the trees weeping
And I'm not a tree hugger but lately I've been paying more attention to them
Trying to put this falling love somewhere and the hoodie you gave me sits in my closet like a game of hide and seek
Why do you leave remnants of you everywhere?
This isn't Hansel and Gretel
And I promise I'm not as strong as I seem to be.
Sometimes I fall apart and sometimes I ****** your name with subtweets, I'm sorry.
And everything I say doesn't make sense because I know you're out somewhere doing things we did with someone that isn't me and I hate you so **** much and deleting the text messages seems a little easier than throwing away your handwriting and we never finished watching that movie and I never finished saying thank you for everything because you ran away like a cowardly ocean and I was only your shore never your 'yes of course' and I often sit in math class wondering if you really loved me and I never seem to get the right answers.
And my excuse is that I'm the shambles of a teenage train wreck
I didn't mean to destroy your world.
But you do that every time you say her name like an atomic ghost bomb, and only I can feel the after shock of sylibals
Who knew that words could ****...
Guess we are all just a bunch of love driven murderers

i use social media as an outlet for my emotions
the only problem is that
most of my mixed feelings develop because
of subtweets and
photos of girls who are not me
isnt it funny?
how the apps on our phones are
both the sickness and the cure
no
you will not go to heaven,
you will eternally reside in
your saved drafts on twitter
i dare you to post your most embarrassing
mine?
"do you ever look at the man you used to love
and wonder why on earth he doesnt cut his hair
and why he started wearing bermuda jorts"
its more embarrassing for him
my love life is now at my finger tips
do you know how many guys want to love
the girl they met on tinder who
hides behind her poetry
and uses harry potter as an escape mechanism?
none
i dared one to text me at midnght
between mispelled words and shots
he completed the phrase
i love .... euphamisms
like when your former self dies you call it
growing up instead of suicide
not my type
i cant stand when people cough in class
it reminds me of choking on
words
my words - the ones i say when i'm not supposed to
or the ones i should've said but never did
all of my pictures are captioned with
phrases and song lyrics that
i read in your voice
i wish that record wasn't broken
i wish i was a wizard
truly i do
with spells like
impedimenta (to slow down your attackers)
i wonder if it would slow down the voices in my head
i wonder if it could slow down you leaving
or my breathing (or lack thereof)
this wasn't meant to be emotional,
but with the world like this
how could you NOT cry
ive spent more nights in the bar bathroom
than i have in my own bed
its true how they say big events are
the most intimate
madi hahn - party of 1
or party of 761
if you count the followers who favorite my
tweets about dying
no one relates to happy poetry
why?
because no one is happy
because. no. one. is. happy.
its a facade - a mask, we hide behind
but then the clock strikes midnight
we're back daring stupid guys
to tell us **** about ourselves that we already know
we burn holes into screens trying to be relatable
we lose the best versions of ourselves
and
we are fine with it as long as
we recieve our fair share of attention

we deserve it

droplets of water strike
my room window
harder than usual.
there’s a storm outside
as well as inside.
rain is supposed to make sleeping
easier but my thoughts
seem to be louder than thunder.

a young soul’s weeping
won't deter the storm one
bit. it’s relentlessness forces
the noise i want to let out
deeper in.

my iphone chimes.
the nerves in my hand tingle
as they feel the vibration.
an instagram notification letting me know
that the one who broke my heart
also liked my picture.

i laugh as i go through your posts.
things aren’t the way you put them out
to be online honey.
oh, how you’d wish they were that way.

subtweets upon subtweets
about how much i hurt you
that matter more than the fact
that i genuinely tried.

had to swallow every problem
you brought upon the table, and naively
i was good to you, not realizing
how toxic our thing was for me.

but i needed you back then.
i wanted this.
it’s all past tense now.
i realized i don’t.

the droplets get quiet as i realize
that no ******* longer
am i going to let you play victim
when you’re the one who dealt the bad cards

oh, would you look at that,
the thunder stopped.
i suppose my realization is the
rainbow that comes after the storm.

-melancholicreator

I've actually never been able to give a reason for my favorite color.
I used to claim it was red,
and indeed red is such a wonderful color.
I find it amazing how many emotions that one hue can show.
Love, Jealously, Aggression, Envy, Hate, Passion, Lust.
The color is red is lovely...
but lately I have found a color that is lovelier, and wins by far
and honestly I can give a reason now as to why this color captivates me.
Blue..
Blue is the color of the skype app, it surrounds the video frame as we Skype, sitting up late on weekends, watching netflix together, joking, laughing.
Blue is also the color of another stupid social media app I made for her, Twitter (This is a big deal if you know me, I hate twitter. I use to think it was so absurd.) Knowing some of those silly subtweets are about me as I scroll through, the excitement, the goofiness, knowing she is smiling, lord knows how many times I open that little blue app to check in on her.
and last, but by far the least.
Blue is the shade her Hazel eyes took when I met her that Saturday morning. I saw her and immediately noticed blue eyes that were as captivating as powerful waves of an ocean.
Those eyes, have began to siege my heart and may happen to end up dragging me out to sea.

I DON'T GIVE A ****!"
WHY?
"You asking me why?"
"When was the last time we spoke ?:
"When was the last time you saw her?"
Who?
"Don't play stupid with me
I'm not tryna hear all that
I'm out
You are such ******* *******"

Your eccentric personality
The illusions
The constant confusions
The subtweets
The words
The allure
The pseudo care
The Korean noodles
The massages
The animal ***
The guilt
The phone calls
The texts
The drama
Repeat

We lie to lay with each other
To find out about each other
Till clever words
Make us distant
Eluding your illusions
A handful
Even for my two hands
Checking on me like a baseman in the ninth inning  
Patrolling my twitter is what keeps you winning

DMs got me sinning
DMs got me sinning
DMs got me sinning?

DMs got me feeling tremendous
Newness and
New man
New thing.

out in the west end