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Lily Flower Mar 2018
How does it feel, walking the rainwashed streets without me ?
I hope your hand is comfortable in your pocket,
Or a hand you chose over mine.
On the dining table we never dined
"together", its warmth froze in my heart.
The soup always went cold
and I counted every single bean
Never seen, or tasted before .
I binned the beans and bid them farewell.
I went back to my cold bed
and felt my head explode
and felt my body twitch in need
Oh honey! Lest your soup go cold
Lest you count your beans.
I ate the trashed beans and beamed.
How could I trash the green of your eyes that spoke through the beans?
I think I'll leave the empty bed for sale
It's a free life in jail
without you in my veins.
With me in your dustbin
As the grey sky rains.
This hurts beyond reason. It hurts that I never got to be with the man I deeply loved, because of distance and disease. This hurts that everything's ruined..
zebra Jun 26
***** bunny ****
a ****** with bangles
shaved and pierced
dried and shampooed
Spoosh, Tick Tick, and Trashed

is it true Jesus is Shesus
and has no ***** anymore

i love you
***** Juice
waddle cupcake *****
mambo Dancing Shoes
i am Kimbo the Love Doctor
******* the palm of my hand
***** sniffer extraordinaire
in limbo
eating ****** snacks and disco biscuits
looking for a whipped cream buff puff

jam split *** cracked cheeks squeeze tight
and your Black Metal Veins
burn like melting *** of fire

so what would your ideogram look like
a hot dog and Kleenex with Skunk and
***** **** glob pearls
blond wig wavy curls and Haven Dust

I am banana float
Big Flake
and your my split thizz
a new genetic fricassee

sleep is temporary death
and i'm to tired to feed
on shadowed veins

my personality a mote
like a goat with a tote
**** fueled *** and barbiturates desert
make a face like clevererd meat

kiss me *****
jugs with *** plugs and Tootsie Roll toes
girl friend
spreads hemic tide for **** water
i like lip gloss icing eyeliner
floating in Marshmallow Reds, and Pink Ladies

*** prance Foo Foo Dust
licker of rugs
stinker with shrugs
in a puddle of Drowsy Goofers
built not to last the aftermath
like a penny side show

in instinctive rhythms
and midnight madness
while hungry for tranquilizer therapy
i feel good
like a corpse buried in your hips

say something in your oral tradition
gag gaag a googoo
pass the tiaras
and Star Spangled Powder
private parts on public display
black girls gone platinum
chocolate upside down cake
with Blue Bullets between their legs
another lick please
snorting Lady Caine, and Mama Coca rotate Soft *****
pass for French with a horse **** cigarette
in a silver case
filled generously with saliva wet nose candy

White Nurse
like a golden snake with black bones
keeps her smokes between her legs
lucky strikes revival and Bumble Bees

i like my cigs smouldering  wet
dreaming of evil

Diesel, Golden Girl
Red Chicken
do drop in
wizard of fire music
phantasmagoria
…..
"One pill makes you larger,
and one pill makes you small,
and the ones that Mother gives you
don’t do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
when she’s ten feet tall."
drugs *** death
Noel Billiter Mar 2018
The tide subsides
As you creep in
The ocean waves crash upon our sin
The salty sweat of your razor tongue
Lashes out and melts the once brilliant sun
The Rocky cliff that is no more
Held the light upon its shore
You heaved, trashed and destroyed the walls
Thousands of years now dust and shards
You plucked the moon right from the sky
Crushed it down with just a sigh
Monster from the deep dark sea
What is it you ask of me?
You slashed gored down every tree
Pushed them over like a Paper Dolly
You stained the streets with our blood
Then trudged your way through the flood...
I used to play with Lego blocks and Barbie dolls
I used to jump rope and write all over the walls,
Now I play spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven
I party all night and don’t come home till eleven.

I used to never care, about what I wear
I used to sleep with a mound of teddy bears
Now I put on make up to cover up my face
Now I wear fashion, not pink frills and lace.

I used to always do good in school
I used to always think I was pretty cool,
Now I bomb tests and always slack off
My parents don’t treat this as so soft.

I used to talk about little puppies, and kitty cats
I used to gag at the sight of snakes and rats,
Now we spend our time gossiping about who’s a *****
Who the most beautiful, and who looks like a witch.

We used to play with toys
Now we talk about the cute boys,
Every second you’re on the spot and being judged,
Every time you breathe someone’s watching.
You try to smile but it’s all an act
Don’t you feel as if you’re being attacked?
By hungry eyes that are just looking for a flaw
So they can get you with their claws.

What has happened to this carefree child
Who used to enjoy being crazy and wild,
They grew up and developed some sense
They learned to be more mature,
Or maybe it’s the other way around
May they didn’t grow up, just down,
Into a world where nothing is what it seems
Our image trashed just like our dreams.
I’ve changed so much, if change doesn’t hurt,
Then why do I feel so much pain?
JA Perkins May 9
I can hardly imagine, now,
the beauty I saw from the
peak of Childhood Hill.
But, just because I'm not
looking down doesn't mean
it's not beautiful, even still.
It's just out of reach from
where I've taken my stance
and to make it back up
is a downhill chance..

The nights I've wasted, wasted...
Not like the gamblers, though.
I wanted to, but they really chased it.
They were always too trashed
to know the depth of the cess pool
or who they splashed.
I must've cared more than
I want to admit about ending up
in that bottomless pit - afraid to
flee the familiar feel 
I'd known on Childhood Hill.
(a mountain that doesn't
have to be climbed as long as
we never fall from it's flat).
But I came sliding down
as if the ground were made of
ice or something like that.
Barreling down to my grave
with my hands in the air,
announcing my arrival,
and spitting at casualties
along the way -
making light of their
happenchance survival.

And they shook their heads.
And they threw their dirt.

Some of them wanted me
to hit Rock Bottom
just to know their hurt.
Some of them wanted to
help, but changed their
minds in light of my arrogance.
(I'm not as bitter toward them)
And some of them, the ones
I hurt the most, watched in
horror when I upped my dose.
Both my sanity and serenity
in hand, I slid.
Both of which were lost amid.
Then I hit the ground and
did I hit hard?..
I hit so ******* the ground beneath,
I'm still spitting fragments of my busted teeth.
Just trying to make sense of it all.
Chameleon Feb 21
I know it’s so simple.
The answer is obvious but even as I sit here thinking about it I still use my left hand to find the few remaining short hairs in my bangs and pull on them one at a time until they pop out.
In therapy last week I explained the process of how I decide which hair to pull and my therapist was fascinated by this.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I just want to stop.
I hate that it feels impossible.
My hair is completely trashed and I am so ashamed of the mess I made.
I feel bad for my boyfriend that he’s dating this overly anxious loser with bald spots.
It’s not what he signed up for.

So I’m going to stop.
After I hit post I will not let myself even touch my head.
Just thinking about it now makes me want to do it so bad.
Rahul Luthra Jul 2018
I'm just a simple person, just like the rest
Well, not entirely simple, but nonetheless
It's like society and the media just say what they want
To create new forms of discriminations, that will forever haunt
As if the already existing ones weren't bad enough
They must make sure that you feel flawed,
and make your life tough
I'm just another person; I removed the word simple
People nowadays even get trashed for having a dimple
"HA, it's just a deformity on your face!"
Well, I hope you trip and fall on your own shoelace :)
I'm just another person, with a not-so-great vision
I need glasses, so that I don't squint at the television
It makes my life easier, but the media has made it tough
Their influences and the consequential societal mentality,
has made my childhood rough
Beauty is said to be in the eyes of the beholder
Yet friendship is considered beauty,
when it gives you a shoulder
To cry on, is what I meant
Not literally
I mean it could
Just didn't want to be misunderstood
Why are glasses objectified,
like in The Princess Diaries
Is it not considered dignified
to not want your eyes to get all fiery?
Trust me, I'm just another person;
who needs the help of glasses
Media's interpretation has ruined this too,
to profit their theatrical farces
This is not an appraisal piece
for the object that makes us see well
This is a shoutout to those,
who feel pressurized by this societal shell
To define beauty may be complex,
but it should not be controlled by someone's interest
You're beautiful the way you are,
to have you the world is truly blessed
Jowlough Mar 4
The thrusts of trusts
Hooked upon instincts of crooked flukes
Bloops upon loops of hopes in a rope
Nope, I want to cope walking like an antelope
Broke, sitting on a boat, with a smoke,
Cans of coke, whisky and cup of hoax.
In my mind, blind from the inside.
Slide, coincides the what if’s
Trips and coffee sips,
The leaked tips and tricks, pointed
At the corner of the eye sorted,
Like cards hoarded
In a thrift shop, copped, snapped,
Napped and again, aging,
Doing anything, sinking, sloping
From what I don’t have,
Mic’d overdubs,
Brain scrubs;
Is this love?
No, I suppose
Just a comatose
From raised eyebrows
Daily dose of lows
Trashed roses
Losses
Lapses
My heart, collapses.
Al Sep 2018
In her hand I ride the tracks. Time stamped with no use-by
date.  An bus ticket torn in two, it's impossible to forget you.

The empty coke bottle spins inside, the apple-pie's half eaten.

Your shoes all scuffed. Your hat still crushed. The wall from which you fell.  The orange peel hidden in your bag.

This picture frame is soon to be trashed.
My sweet love,
A transformation is going to take place. I am no longer the same girl anymore, I can feel myself changing into a woman with much stronger values. If you do not recognize the energy that drains my soul, people who think they can rearrange my world, the ones who play inside my head and what really wears me down then maybe you're not my love afterall.

Maybe I'm doing it again... allowing my words to be arranged into ways my soul would never abide by. You are my love, I love you. However, on this journey of mine I'm terrified that simply just wont do.

As I feel myself growing into the woman I am meant to be, I've realized there are alot more things I need now. I used to think I would never be able to live without love. Now I have just that & you all to myself, and I'm afraid it just isnt enough. Every other inch of my body is still aching for needs to be met , so here I am with you and its lovely but what about passion.. ?

what about being determined to discover each and every last spec of eachothers stardust & what about driving one another to achieve our goals? I want companionship in worshipping our bodies & not only eachothers but our own. I simply just want someone beside me nurturing me & helping me grow.

I want encouragement in a lover to manifest & create, otherwise i am only  being held back. I am so over putting my life on hold just to sit here and live in your room with you, I can't believe you watched me become so consumed in your life of drugs/alcohol then in the end it's my fault for having us not workout.

I moved here to be with you & you never ensured that I lead a happy life here. I'm sick of hearing "you do you"! Isn't that what people do who are living independently do? What exactly is the point of a partnership if one just gets so consumed in the others life with zero foundation to build a life together on?

In some ways, maybe even most, I am at fault here. I could have made better choices. However, it would have been nice to experience a life with you where I felt wanted in more ways than watching netflix and being a fuckfriend when we go & get trashed for the billionth weekend in a row.

I am so excited to gain control over my own life again & I'm sorry that communication wasn't always my strongest trait, still I would have done more to ensure your happiness. <\♡

I hope maybe you realize one day after I run away and fall in love with myself again that I would have wanted to be so much more for you.
Maybe I'm young and inexperienced & it may have seemed like I depended on you too much, I was only ever in love.

I hope one day when you see the woman I become, you'll realize that. I still hope when this is all over and I'm down by the river living my summer to the fullest that you will reach out and we can start over.

It's just that, I wont come back to sit in your room & be expected to just be happy all on my own.

Don't you see the difference?
Happy alone
Unhappy "together".

<\3

I hope you learned a thing or two.
#love #depression #heartache #letter
MicMag Aug 2018
World lays in ruin
Our enduring monument
Plastic-covered shores
our plastic will outlive us all
Jason James Jun 4
This world is one the brink of catastrophic
     Cataclysmic change.

And doing what we feel is best for us,
Is just making it worse.
We need to sacrifice,
Go out of our "comfort zones"
And do what's best for dying fetus earth.
Your cars, you're  wasting paper and trashed memos,
The birthday candles on your cake,
Emissions,
Plastics
Landfills,
Burning,
Fossil fuels,
Illegal dumping,
Air conditioning
Illegal burning
Over use of plastics in landfills,
Food waste
Packing your close,garage, and storage with under necessary ****,
Living at least $35,000 in credit card, car payment and mortgage debt
And doing the same consumer debt cycle everyday....
But you donate to good will and that's ok, after all you get tax brakes.
When the hurricanes,tornadoes,earthquakesci hope you're not relying on a gun or a credit card, or seven days of food or bottled water. I hope you can explain with your chargless phone how you just didn't know. May the lord show mercy on your soul,you sheeple,you ignorant masses.
Grace Ann Oct 2018
I hate my own company sometimes
My mind always running in marathons
And too still sometimes for the boredom to leave my bones
It is seeping into them
Executive dysfunction and dissociation are playing hopscotch in my brain
There is no winner here
Instead I lay in a standstill of movie- watching and trashed floors
Wondering when the energy will come back
Wondering when the motivation will return
Or if I ever had it in the first place
I've been friends with my mental so long it's hard to remember a life before them
Before they told me who I was and who I should be
Farook Suyarov Aug 2018
I've trashed the years
and never blinked,
nor cried a tear
for a lost chance.
It flowed,
the swelling rivers of honey and milk,
‎at my feet,
which i never counted or held dear.
So what,
‎for my shabby soul,
‎i lived and died here.

You say, i could ask for a little help,
at least kneel down in a silence, for prayer
or implore to wisdom of common sense,
embracing defeat,
succumb and concede.
So what,
i dont feel sorry for what i did.

I am trying to be humble,
though unconcscious of what that means,
palping the boundaries of dreams,
scratching old wounds,
that heal and redeem
with every probable sin.

Don't expect me with dazzling
success,
throwing treasures at your feet.
No words of comfort i can offer
under the glimmering stars,
brightly lit.
A mere sorrow.
Only defeat.

You can throw a few lies to trick my mind,
pretending to value its eccentricity,
while you don't give a ****.
So what,
i am a regular guy.
You might still pity me,
but never love.
she silenced her phone
trashed the social media
cast off weary fake friends
ceased to lay eyes on junk
or accept empty invitations

she was like a tree or a flower
rudely dug up and replanted
in a grotesque garden

there was one way to wholeness
one unrushed road to finding self
and it wasn’t out there
or hiding somewhere

it was a gentle determined stroll
the deep measured cleanse
feeling the slow but sure growth
down to the roots of her tingly toes
until she and the earth around her lightly sighed
Julian Delia Jun 17
What could have been;
What should have been done.
What could have been seen;
What should have been shunned.

I speak to you, my rejected friends.
Take the messages failure sends.
I speak for you, for I feel the sting, too.
Maybe I should take my own advice,
Instead of spilling my guts out to you.
But, failures linger, don’t they?
They stick around like glue,
Make you not want to see the next day.

I grieve with you, my fellow renounced outcasts.
Life sometimes crumbles like houses beneath blasts.
I grieve for my own woeful misadventures,
For all of life’s haunting spectres,
The ghosts of what could have been,
The paradise that won’t let us in.

This one is for us;
All those who failed to get into the Harvards and the Yales,
All of those who wish they’d gotten better grades,
But got burnt out, instead.
All of those who haven’t made it in sports,
But whose dreams were cut short.
All of those who wished to become actors,
But found no supporters nor benefactors.
All of those who wished to chase music,
Those who have talent but couldn’t use it.

All of those who died at sea,
Stranded on a boat, trying to be free.
All of those whose heart was broken,
Whose wounds are always open.
All of those whose ideas were trashed,
Only to then be copied and rehashed.

All of those whose minds were broken,
Who danced with demons and evil unspoken.
All of those who never met their parents,
To whom life was never readily apparent.
All of those who reached for the stars,
But found their arms were too short.

This one is for us.
Stay strong, for these nights can be long.
Sing your song.
PS:
**** whoever said ‘the sky’s the limit’.
Let’s go for ‘above and beyond.’
rejection -> pain -> problems -> overcoming them -> solving them ->
  ^_____________________________________________________|

— The End —