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"trouble" poems
it's the same as before or the other time or the time before that. here's a **** and here's a **** and here's trouble. only each time you think well now I've learned: I'll let her do that and I'll do this, I no longer want it all, just some comfort and some *** and only a minor love. now I'm waiting again and the years run thin. I have my radio and the kitchen walls are yellow. I keep dumping bottles and listening for footsteps. I hope that death contains less than this.
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96.8k
This Then
Thoughts in time and out of season The Hitchhiker stood by the side of the road And leveled his thumb In the calm calculus of reason. Hi. How you doin’? I just got back into town, L.A. I was out in the desert for awhile “Riders on the storm” Yeah. In the middle of it “Riders on the storm” Right… “Into this world we’re born” Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem “Into this world we’re thrown” When I was out on the desert, ya know “Like a dog without a bone An actor out on loan” I don’t know how to tell you “Riders on the storm” but, ah, I killed somebody “There’s a killer on the road” No… “His brain is squirming like a toad” It’s no big deal, ya know I don’t think anybody will find out about it, but… “take a long holiday” just, ah… “Let your children play” this guy gave me a ride, and ah… “If you give this man a ride” started giving me a lot of trouble “Sweet family will die” and I just couldn’t take it, ya know “Killer on the road” And I wasted him Yeah.
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50.2k
The Hitchhiker
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it. But what they don’t know is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway, it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of “Oh, look how beautiful the red is” (they always say red is my color). Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end, salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles, staring at your ceiling tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel. Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are. Depression is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it. Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking. Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear, and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry, as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it. Depression is shutting yourself up in your room and hearing your family laughing downstairs because you feel like you can’t be a part of them and learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love Depression is wanting to take love and your heart and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves, to throw them away Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet, is you when you haven’t broken life in, is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t. Depression is wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine” Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide. Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway and when you close the door out of fear it keeps pounding, possessive, ****** and when you open the door out of anger you shout, “I’M SCARED” to thin air but your voice comes out as a whisper.
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
I Know Depression (Slam Poem, Edited Version)
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it. But what they don’t know is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway, it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of “Oh, look how beautiful the red is” (they always say red is my color). Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end, salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles, staring at your ceiling tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest because death is a reward, an escape from this pain you deserve to feel. Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars, cutting on ankles, not wrists because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble but you so desperately need to be seen, and never are. Depression is writing the word “alone” and seeing the word “home”, accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it. Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people, and loving the broken things, hoping to tie them together, thinking maybe things will get better, but knowing that’s just wishful thinking. Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting through the too-thin walls of your door when she thinks you can’t hear, and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry, as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it. Depression is shutting yourself up in your room and hearing your family laughing downstairs because you feel like you can’t be a part of them and learning at a young age to love family always but that family isn’t always love Depression is wanting to take love and your heart and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves, to throw them away Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet, is you when you haven’t broken life in, is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same, like the front covers of magazines with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t. Depression is wishing you could package your smiles into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of “I’m fine” Depression is having to view your past as if it wasn’t yours, because to accept it as reality is to accept finality of your life through suicide. Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway and when you close the door out of fear it keeps pounding, possessive, ****** and when you open the door out of anger you shout, “I’M SCARED” to thin air but your voice comes out as a whisper.
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14
How do you do that? How can you make me smile with a simple act? From this moment, I begin to think But the way you make me feel is hard to explain You’re one of the many aspects that changed my life Coz’ you always make me happy And I want you to know, after all For the rest of it, that I’m very lucky You make me laugh, you make me smile You’re smart, you’re different that made my day to shine For all the nights that I shed tear I won’t worry anymore, for you- is finally here That summer cold times, I’m contented just being by your side All those feelings I just can’t hide You’re special to me And I hope you’re beginning to see I can’t describe how much I care But when you need me, I will ensure you that I’ll be there To wipe your tears when you’re sad To make you happy when you’re mad I never imagined how sweet this could be With emotion and desire that’s coming over me Now I’m trouble…. but in sweet, sweet trouble Because I could not happily escape this anymore I love the times when we chat and text And I don’t want to end those nights and wait for the next The things you do and no one else will do Results me on thinking of you When there is something in my mind Or weighs heavy in my heart You always seem to know what I want to say before I ever start You have your own special way Of making me feel valuable than I am What I want to say is You’re soft gentle smile, on me, truly understands I am truthfully fortunate my dear friend You have that personality to where I can learn You are in my dreams whether I’m awake or asleep While these emotions, for you, are going way too deep A best friend, to me, I gladly submit Giving my all, to you, I admit This feeling I feel for you is something totally new And I’m so glad, so so glad, that I met you.
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
I’m so glad, I met you
How do you do that? How can you make me smile with a simple act? From this moment, I begin to think But the way you make me feel is hard to explain You’re one of the many aspects that changed my life Coz’ you always make me happy And I want you to know, after all For the rest of it, that I’m very lucky You make me laugh, you make me smile You’re smart, you’re different that made my day to shine For all the nights that I shed tear I won’t worry anymore, for you- is finally here That summer cold times, I’m contented just being by your side All those feelings I just can’t hide You’re special to me And I hope you’re beginning to see I can’t describe how much I care But when you need me, I will ensure you that I’ll be there To wipe your tears when you’re sad To make you happy when you’re mad I never imagined how sweet this could be With emotion and desire that’s coming over me Now I’m trouble…. but in sweet, sweet trouble Because I could not happily escape this anymore I love the times when we chat and text And I don’t want to end those nights and wait for the next The things you do and no one else will do Results me on thinking of you When there is something in my mind Or weighs heavy in my heart You always seem to know what I want to say before I ever start You have your own special way Of making me feel valuable than I am What I want to say is You’re soft gentle smile, on me, truly understands I am truthfully fortunate my dear friend You have that personality to where I can learn You are in my dreams whether I’m awake or asleep While these emotions, for you, are going way too deep A best friend, to me, I gladly submit Giving my all, to you, I admit This feeling I feel for you is something totally new And I’m so glad, so so glad, that I met you.
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44
i give me my lifes´ the day crowded bright and the night sumptuous.. give me my pretty wife where love at first sight bind us.. give us two souls blithe fused as light within light sweet bounteous.. let us soar and dive like content swallows might time in lost happiness.. ( and let trouble and strife bind-us the more tight like our first kiss..) give then to two one life white to white whole as stars as love unto death might break apart and ride the cosmos.. ii the jonah by james herbert a heist goes wrong and a colleage is shot.. just another debacle for our hero in a long list that has him transferred to the drug squad and east anglia.. to live in a caravan.. keep his eye on the locals and drink strong beer.. ellie his partner makes him eat and they fall in love though various tentions rise due to his troubles.. some flash backs a left baby in a toilet sadistic stuff at the orphanage.. bullies and dodgy collars his step father is strict he is an ornothologist.. there are drug related incident a dead vole a us pilot bites the farm.. some little boy thinks he can fly.. the water supply some pilfering some heavy knocks some bad lies some kitchen small potatoes but all part of mr herbert´ s charm.. a huge storm the spooky old mill a wild trip.. and regression bad men bad men.. lot´ s of struggle the raw products towed in by trawler assembled by the knights torn and a lost twin.. a monster in the flood where others die a maitre d.. a ***** salesman and his girl in a caravan the fishermen.. helicopters and victory for the forces of good.. and the jonah gone and all is light.. the end..
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:01 AM UTC
give me my lifes ́
i give me my lifes´ the day crowded bright and the night sumptuous.. give me my pretty wife where love at first sight bind us.. give us two souls blithe fused as light within light sweet bounteous.. let us soar and dive like content swallows might time in lost happiness.. ( and let trouble and strife bind-us the more tight like our first kiss..) give then to two one life white to white whole as stars as love unto death might break apart and ride the cosmos.. ii the jonah by james herbert a heist goes wrong and a colleage is shot.. just another debacle for our hero in a long list that has him transferred to the drug squad and east anglia.. to live in a caravan.. keep his eye on the locals and drink strong beer.. ellie his partner makes him eat and they fall in love though various tentions rise due to his troubles.. some flash backs a left baby in a toilet sadistic stuff at the orphanage.. bullies and dodgy collars his step father is strict he is an ornothologist.. there are drug related incident a dead vole a us pilot bites the farm.. some little boy thinks he can fly.. the water supply some pilfering some heavy knocks some bad lies some kitchen small potatoes but all part of mr herbert´ s charm.. a huge storm the spooky old mill a wild trip.. and regression bad men bad men.. lot´ s of struggle the raw products towed in by trawler assembled by the knights torn and a lost twin.. a monster in the flood where others die a maitre d.. a ***** salesman and his girl in a caravan the fishermen.. helicopters and victory for the forces of good.. and the jonah gone and all is light.. the end..
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82
You have been with me from the start soft Hard, never bothered which one you were When I was young at heart. I used to pull you my second brain, little soft Then long and hard,as I grew, you grew with   Me a friend that never left. Only in the cold I Wondered where you are. The years did pass and hair you grew, where Once I had pulled, now you just went hard. Embarrassed I was as always hard around The girls, some laughed while others played With it spitting at them when excitedly hard. Age moved on my friend for life still with me Still getting hard but when I wanted you no More embarrassment on my face at random hard. My second brain, getting wasted each day, never Unclean as cheesy smell I do not want as girls would Run a far. We played in the wetness we have come so far letting The children out in the damp park. My wife screamed Harder deeper my god your big I love your hardness Up me and the children were excited out of the umbrella They went a bit to far. You have been with me through the soft and the Hard, got me in trouble, now three children later I must end your spitting but you can still go hard. ***** your my friend to the end when we had no One a palm and a video was are night in, then softly You went as to sleep in my palm, from the beginning Through the soft and the hard.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
An Ode to my *****
A friend of mine walked up to me and asked me: "What is a good woman?" I replied "you would know if you were a good man" He said "Stop joking I really wanna know" "There is no definite answer, but when you meet one, it will show" There are many characteristics that make a good woman, but it would take days to speak them all Since my friend brought this to mind, I thought I would list a few for y'all A woman who is proud of what she brings and won't complain over petty things A woman who is well spoken and not opposed to listening because communication is key from the beginning A woman who is wise and able to realize the pit you are in doesn't matter because she will help your rise A woman who wouldn't try to control her man but also wouldn't be a doormat And when trouble comes up, her feet won't be flat (she's ready to go) A woman who never stops believing in the man that you are and the man you can become So much confidence in you, it almost makes her seem dumb A virtuous woman who prays for you more than she prays for herself Remembering God is number one above all else A woman who tries to pay for herself before you can offer Knowing the difference between selfless and selfish is something you should prefer A woman with the power of forgiveness But don't abuse it Because a good woman is not stupid She will lose it You will lose her and have no one to blame when your heart takes the hit If you hurt a good woman, in my eyes, you aren't worth the saliva I spit The ice cream no one would lick The one that gets thrown down in hope ants would leave a picnic To pick apart your existence Use your common sense Realize what's in front of you and cherish it Woman is the title a female receives at a certain age But it takes a good man to realize a good woman is on the next page I'm not saying a good woman needs to have this quote for quote I don't think any woman does, if so, let me know I haven't met any besides my family, but I don't go down that road I'm being patient, waiting for my good woman is giving me time to grow So I can give her the best Brandon Everett Davis, the world doesn't know To not be on their level, would be a sin Let's become better men for these good women
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Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
A Good Woman
A friend of mine walked up to me and asked me: "What is a good woman?" I replied "you would know if you were a good man" He said "Stop joking I really wanna know" "There is no definite answer, but when you meet one, it will show" There are many characteristics that make a good woman, but it would take days to speak them all Since my friend brought this to mind, I thought I would list a few for y'all A woman who is proud of what she brings and won't complain over petty things A woman who is well spoken and not opposed to listening because communication is key from the beginning A woman who is wise and able to realize the pit you are in doesn't matter because she will help your rise A woman who wouldn't try to control her man but also wouldn't be a doormat And when trouble comes up, her feet won't be flat (she's ready to go) A woman who never stops believing in the man that you are and the man you can become So much confidence in you, it almost makes her seem dumb A virtuous woman who prays for you more than she prays for herself Remembering God is number one above all else A woman who tries to pay for herself before you can offer Knowing the difference between selfless and selfish is something you should prefer A woman with the power of forgiveness But don't abuse it Because a good woman is not stupid She will lose it You will lose her and have no one to blame when your heart takes the hit If you hurt a good woman, in my eyes, you aren't worth the saliva I spit The ice cream no one would lick The one that gets thrown down in hope ants would leave a picnic To pick apart your existence Use your common sense Realize what's in front of you and cherish it Woman is the title a female receives at a certain age But it takes a good man to realize a good woman is on the next page I'm not saying a good woman needs to have this quote for quote I don't think any woman does, if so, let me know I haven't met any besides my family, but I don't go down that road I'm being patient, waiting for my good woman is giving me time to grow So I can give her the best Brandon Everett Davis, the world doesn't know To not be on their level, would be a sin Let's become better men for these good women
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40
We were once kids. We were once wild. We were once soldiers. In the dead of winter, you greeted death. You fell from my grip and into the darkness, and now a hundred years have rotted away and I have never felt so alone. I ran from the winter because war was to attached to it. I close my eyes and I see you there on the front line. Young and drained, you were just a body rotting away. Full of life so you hung on with everything you had. bang bang It was such an awful sound. Only if I had taken your place. If only you would have run the other way. Just how unfair is our luck. Someday I'll teach myself to learn and live alone. I'll teach myself that death was not the enemy. But the winter storm rages on and I'm still having trouble breathing. Don't be alarmed. I march on. Like the soldier I once was. Don't be alarmed. I've seen many winter storms and I have miraculously survived them all. Can't you see that I don't want to move on? Don't bring tomorrow because I can't take another. My eyes are too fogged to see the light. My minds too cluttered to think right. I've tasted my own tears and faced all my fears. So here I am. Laying on the floor. So here we are. Together once more.
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
The Winter Soldier
The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves, The full round moon and the star-laden sky, And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves, Had hid away earth's old and weary cry. And then you came with those red mournful lips, And with you came the whole of the world's tears, And all the trouble of her laboring ships, And all the trouble of her myriad years. And now the sparrows warring in the eaves, The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky, And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves, Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.
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28.7k
The Sorrow of Love
//the door to your bedroom was a portal to a world unseen your bed, the ocean & your sheets, the sand with the crevices caused by the tide it flowed so sweetly over the soft sand beyond the door, serenity was foreign to you you were only there when you needed to be you, who had knit the thickest wool to pull over my eyes thicker than the blindfold we used the frenzy I remember frenzy further cured with discipline and you know what? "I like that ***** **** how will you discipline me today, daddy? it was what you taught me after all to be a brat for no one but you to be no one else's little girl if not I'd be a bad girl bad girls get punished bad girls get no love so I saved you the trouble and left my collar at the door//
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
the woes of a *** addict
To you, the ground beneath my feet Every step I take, you support me. You stand with me, in my times of trouble I am warmed by your embrace, as I become entranced in your outfit of lace. Nothing could be more finely crafted, than my connection with you. The ages may wear on you, yet you remain the only one my sole longs for. For you truly are... My favorite pair of shoes.
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Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
An Unexpected Ending
People often ask me what love is And I seriously don't know what it means All I can think about is you Your eyes, those brown eyes Those eyes which saw me naked You saw every scar on my body Yet the only thing you said was “You are beautiful” Love, I am not beautiful Scars, stretch marks, blood, wounds Doesn't mean beautiful I am not an art Yet your lips kissed me The way the sun kissed my skin every morning Without a fail, without any doubt You smiled. And the only words that came to my mind was **** this is trouble" My love, your words hold me like a hostage Trapped inside an empty box, finding a way out. A way I can never ever get a glimpse of. I knew that this love Our love would last a lifetime Or so I thought We were torn apart by hatreds, insecurities, confusions Maybe if it wasn't for distance We would be still together, we could have worked it out But maybe, no matter what decisions we'll make We will still come to an end Confused about the future Insecure about other people Hating each other You, giving up And me, craving for more Craving for something that can fill up the hole inside my chest I wanted you to stay forever, here beside me But every time I would ask about it You always said "You deserve so much more" You were once my everything My other half My partner in crime You were someone so freaking important to me You were the kind of mistake, I wouldn't mind repeating I fell so hard for you And guess what happened? Love, I am broken How many days, months, years For me, to forget That once upon a time You were here I was there Hands holding tighter Eyes locked to each other Hearts that beat in a synchronizing manner How much would it cost? For the pain to stop For the memories to abandon For the feelings to fade My love, I did not expect any of this I didn't know that love can be deadly A love that can force someone to commit suicide That loving someone means tearing every part of yourself Now, do you think I'm suicidal? Love, do not be afraid I'm not going to die Being suicidal doesn’t mean killing yourself Suicidal means I wouldn't mind dying I kept on dying anyway I kept on dying at the same place I thought was giving life to me Because the day, you decided to give up on me I already gave up on myself.
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Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
A suicide note from my love letter
People often ask me what love is And I seriously don't know what it means All I can think about is you Your eyes, those brown eyes Those eyes which saw me naked You saw every scar on my body Yet the only thing you said was “You are beautiful” Love, I am not beautiful Scars, stretch marks, blood, wounds Doesn't mean beautiful I am not an art Yet your lips kissed me The way the sun kissed my skin every morning Without a fail, without any doubt You smiled. And the only words that came to my mind was **** this is trouble" My love, your words hold me like a hostage Trapped inside an empty box, finding a way out. A way I can never ever get a glimpse of. I knew that this love Our love would last a lifetime Or so I thought We were torn apart by hatreds, insecurities, confusions Maybe if it wasn't for distance We would be still together, we could have worked it out But maybe, no matter what decisions we'll make We will still come to an end Confused about the future Insecure about other people Hating each other You, giving up And me, craving for more Craving for something that can fill up the hole inside my chest I wanted you to stay forever, here beside me But every time I would ask about it You always said "You deserve so much more" You were once my everything My other half My partner in crime You were someone so freaking important to me You were the kind of mistake, I wouldn't mind repeating I fell so hard for you And guess what happened? Love, I am broken How many days, months, years For me, to forget That once upon a time You were here I was there Hands holding tighter Eyes locked to each other Hearts that beat in a synchronizing manner How much would it cost? For the pain to stop For the memories to abandon For the feelings to fade My love, I did not expect any of this I didn't know that love can be deadly A love that can force someone to commit suicide That loving someone means tearing every part of yourself Now, do you think I'm suicidal? Love, do not be afraid I'm not going to die Being suicidal doesn’t mean killing yourself Suicidal means I wouldn't mind dying I kept on dying anyway I kept on dying at the same place I thought was giving life to me Because the day, you decided to give up on me I already gave up on myself.
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72
my mother has blue eyes but I'm still a ****** my mother has blonde hair but I'm still a ****** my daddy is black as night but I'm still a ******* my daddy has ***** curls but I'm still a ******* I call this hash tag the struggle because to be biracial is nothing more because to be biracial is nothing less than a struggle to find who I am to find who I should be to find who I'm supposed to be i really wish they were the same person i really wish you understood hash tag the struggle but you don't and you won't so stop telling me about my good hair and stop telling about my high yellow skin and stop telling me my parents have the fever and stop staring at me when I walk in and stop trying to guess which parent is black and stop trying to guess which parent is spanish No I'm not Spanish. No I don't speak Spanish. No You CANNOT touch my hair Yes, my nose is in the air Of course I think I'm the **** Because I live my life trying to be better than women who are dark skinned ...with something I was born with ...out of my control Of course I try to flaunt my plush lips around the white girls who get botox who then become the have nots because I've stolen all the brothas hearts from the city and the boondocks See you don't even know me but you think these are my goals see I call this hash tag the struggle because nobody understands the trouble in being whole when you're given two halves that don't match to patch up one soul and you're born into a ****** up mess still expected to know and they tell you to ignore them all be yourself race should not define you but I can't even fill out two ******* boxes on a standardized test because you are only allowed to check ONE to describe you hash tag TheStruggle
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Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
#TheStruggle
my mother has blue eyes but I'm still a ****** my mother has blonde hair but I'm still a ****** my daddy is black as night but I'm still a ******* my daddy has ***** curls but I'm still a ******* I call this hash tag the struggle because to be biracial is nothing more because to be biracial is nothing less than a struggle to find who I am to find who I should be to find who I'm supposed to be i really wish they were the same person i really wish you understood hash tag the struggle but you don't and you won't so stop telling me about my good hair and stop telling about my high yellow skin and stop telling me my parents have the fever and stop staring at me when I walk in and stop trying to guess which parent is black and stop trying to guess which parent is spanish No I'm not Spanish. No I don't speak Spanish. No You CANNOT touch my hair Yes, my nose is in the air Of course I think I'm the **** Because I live my life trying to be better than women who are dark skinned ...with something I was born with ...out of my control Of course I try to flaunt my plush lips around the white girls who get botox who then become the have nots because I've stolen all the brothas hearts from the city and the boondocks See you don't even know me but you think these are my goals see I call this hash tag the struggle because nobody understands the trouble in being whole when you're given two halves that don't match to patch up one soul and you're born into a ****** up mess still expected to know and they tell you to ignore them all be yourself race should not define you but I can't even fill out two ******* boxes on a standardized test because you are only allowed to check ONE to describe you hash tag TheStruggle
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55
They put me in the oven to bake. Me a deprived and miserable cake. Feeling the heat I started to bubble. Watching the others I knew I was in trouble They opened the door and I started my life. Frosting me with a silver knife. Decorating me with candy jewels. The rest of my batch looked like fools. Lifting me up, she took off my wrapper. Feeling the breeze, I wanted to slap her. Opening her mouth with shiny teeth inside. This was the day this cupcake had died.
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Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:10 AM UTC
Cupcake
Papers, Papers, Papers Whiter than aching teeth, Whiter than whites of tilted eyes, Whiter than funeral wreaths. My hands shake as I write this, Filed away myths; Stolen lined sheets  My index finger chained by red tapes, words mix and ground breaks, I'm the one the world forsakes Yellow maize, littered leaves, all twisted into black ink and clean sharp white paper blades. -------"I am in a bit of daze," I tell myself, "look at those flaccid bits; there lay the logs who use to be the jungle of my childhood dreams." ------"Don't be amazed," I replied, "these leafless branches and twigs are for  your Papier-Mâché degrees." So I listen to my second self once, the more logical cynical satirical one, Treading on the plot of their paper works, playing crosswords as anxiety uncork my thoughts turn to the bankable orcs, just as my career forks Maybe I should be like my mother, Marking numbers on a deck of cards-- waltzing with Chance. Maybe I should be like my father, Toiling for some rich men's grandson-- seething in Trance. Maybe I should be like the Other, Going along with the system-- thanking myself beneath a cap, a diploma, a piece of paper. I wore these books like bank notes tuxedoes, I was promised the world by the credits I borrowed. Must I go along with the mechanism of their game, or should I rise up against all odds Opposing, debating, rebelling against this bundle, this trouble, funneling me into no-tomorrows Or must I write it all down, in my prayers against their lawyers, who need no reminds Or must I shred, smear, and tear the papers with my own bare hands But what will I ever be to them, friends? A papercut, perhaps.
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
Papercuts
Papers, Papers, Papers Whiter than aching teeth, Whiter than whites of tilted eyes, Whiter than funeral wreaths. My hands shake as I write this, Filed away myths; Stolen lined sheets  My index finger chained by red tapes, words mix and ground breaks, I'm the one the world forsakes Yellow maize, littered leaves, all twisted into black ink and clean sharp white paper blades. -------"I am in a bit of daze," I tell myself, "look at those flaccid bits; there lay the logs who use to be the jungle of my childhood dreams." ------"Don't be amazed," I replied, "these leafless branches and twigs are for  your Papier-Mâché degrees." So I listen to my second self once, the more logical cynical satirical one, Treading on the plot of their paper works, playing crosswords as anxiety uncork my thoughts turn to the bankable orcs, just as my career forks Maybe I should be like my mother, Marking numbers on a deck of cards-- waltzing with Chance. Maybe I should be like my father, Toiling for some rich men's grandson-- seething in Trance. Maybe I should be like the Other, Going along with the system-- thanking myself beneath a cap, a diploma, a piece of paper. I wore these books like bank notes tuxedoes, I was promised the world by the credits I borrowed. Must I go along with the mechanism of their game, or should I rise up against all odds Opposing, debating, rebelling against this bundle, this trouble, funneling me into no-tomorrows Or must I write it all down, in my prayers against their lawyers, who need no reminds Or must I shred, smear, and tear the papers with my own bare hands But what will I ever be to them, friends? A papercut, perhaps.
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40
.     It's here again...    Heavy downpour...    I inhaled the rain,     cloying with petrichor.       Standing at my window,      looking out...     Street lamps struggled aglow.    People with brollies walking about.    My eyes reached out to the heavens,     tracing these glassy beads       as they'd free fall...         Falling by the sheets,        the pattering hastens,       periodically punctuated      by the thunder's call.      Mind is drifting and floating,        intently listening to a           million love wishes...              Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...            In light entrapped splashes.          Raindrops descend and come,          into my still life tonight...           Won't you will me numb,              with your chilly bite...              Wide-eyed enamour...             Catching a stray droplet or two.              Riding the tail of a zephyr,               finding a place where                 no trouble could ensue.             An errant gust blew            to meet with me.           The refreshing moist          meets my parted lips...         Inhaling deep in this reverie...        Into a sea of tranquillity,         my mind slowly dips...       Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...       I would savour each and every one.       If the moist wind came and caresses      I would meet it in a tight embrace    till the break of sun.   What a sight...    Almost surreal it seems...       As the light from the surrounding          lamps dances playfully...         Dispersing and exploding into a      barrage of shattered beams.     Before it gets subdued in the drops    caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...    The drops would trickle      and fall before merging,       forming stranded puddles        unable to flow...         Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...       An image...      Borne out of a fantastic show.     An image of beating hearts,      overlapping one another...        Speaking of consequential love           and feelings so true         Intertwined...      in the promise of forever...   Slowly retrieving itself into an...   image of you...
0
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
Image
.     It's here again...    Heavy downpour...    I inhaled the rain,     cloying with petrichor.       Standing at my window,      looking out...     Street lamps struggled aglow.    People with brollies walking about.    My eyes reached out to the heavens,     tracing these glassy beads       as they'd free fall...         Falling by the sheets,        the pattering hastens,       periodically punctuated      by the thunder's call.      Mind is drifting and floating,        intently listening to a           million love wishes...              Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...            In light entrapped splashes.          Raindrops descend and come,          into my still life tonight...           Won't you will me numb,              with your chilly bite...              Wide-eyed enamour...             Catching a stray droplet or two.              Riding the tail of a zephyr,               finding a place where                 no trouble could ensue.             An errant gust blew            to meet with me.           The refreshing moist          meets my parted lips...         Inhaling deep in this reverie...        Into a sea of tranquillity,         my mind slowly dips...       Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...       I would savour each and every one.       If the moist wind came and caresses      I would meet it in a tight embrace    till the break of sun.   What a sight...    Almost surreal it seems...       As the light from the surrounding          lamps dances playfully...         Dispersing and exploding into a      barrage of shattered beams.     Before it gets subdued in the drops    caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...    The drops would trickle      and fall before merging,       forming stranded puddles        unable to flow...         Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...       An image...      Borne out of a fantastic show.     An image of beating hearts,      overlapping one another...        Speaking of consequential love           and feelings so true         Intertwined...      in the promise of forever...   Slowly retrieving itself into an...   image of you...
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65
sunkissed skin and vibrant skies, warm season has always been the same but when i met those summer dazed eyes, i knew that trouble just came he had lips that kissed wetter than the ocean he had arms like waves that swallowed me he filled my summer with sweet temptations a garden of flowers blooming within me but just like how summer came to an end, he left and autumn arrived with tears to shed like how flowers no one comes to see they slowly wilted in quiet misery that summer was more than fifty shades of love turned into an endless waves of bitter memories just wishing upon the tangerine sky above that tides will bring him back to me
0
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 2:13 AM UTC
bittersweet summer
i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble. i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed, and if you had trouble unfolding your hands. i wonder if your mother knows about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet, i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest. i wonder if your shoes know the reason why you keep them by the back door and not your bedside. and sometimes, i wonder if you ever think about that night when i told you, you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me. but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain, whiskey in your glass, your judgement is overcast, and you know i'm too weak to ignore you. i learned how to translate your texts from drunken mess back into english. i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore. this is just how it is. it's not enough for either of us but ******* it we are not above settling. so i will ignore her name on your breath, and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me. i always thought the first time i kissed you, it would be on your mouth. i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into, something that could convince you to stay a second night. but i sneak you out in the early morning, and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go. i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted, wondering how this is possible. waiting for the next drunk call, for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers, the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of. it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too. - m.f.
0
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
wide awake
i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble. i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed, and if you had trouble unfolding your hands. i wonder if your mother knows about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet, i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest. i wonder if your shoes know the reason why you keep them by the back door and not your bedside. and sometimes, i wonder if you ever think about that night when i told you, you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me. but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain, whiskey in your glass, your judgement is overcast, and you know i'm too weak to ignore you. i learned how to translate your texts from drunken mess back into english. i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore. this is just how it is. it's not enough for either of us but ******* it we are not above settling. so i will ignore her name on your breath, and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me. i always thought the first time i kissed you, it would be on your mouth. i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into, something that could convince you to stay a second night. but i sneak you out in the early morning, and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go. i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted, wondering how this is possible. waiting for the next drunk call, for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers, the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of. it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too. - m.f.
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37
In case no one gets it, i collect my excerpts better than i spell my prayer. Spills my personal feelings and trouble, longer than i bow on my knees. i memorize every shame and quote it in a piece of paper, the same stroke they did to break my bones. Marks down every of their tone when i got yelled at, being degraded. In case no one gets it, i use my fingertips to fight. Being sure of my words, but never myself. They can take off my guts, break down my sanity into pieces of insecurity. Yet i’m here to remain bold until the last spill of ink, and my pen can no longer stand.
0
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 4:01 AM UTC
writers are also warrior
We live in a world filled with stereotypes. Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are. There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ****** There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope. There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody. People ask us all the time of who we think we are, but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are. Some people are considered a brain. Some a trouble maker or a **** A princess or a ****** But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways. Everyone of us has some athleticism in us. Everyone one has gotten into some trouble. We have all had are princess or prince moments. And everyone of us is weird, some people are just better at hiding in it. You remember my neighbor I told you about? She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her. And that boy with the baggy clothes? He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks. And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much? She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety. So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you. And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.
0
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
Stereotypes
We live in a world filled with stereotypes. Stereotypes that make us ashamed of who we are. There’s a woman in my neighborhood who wears tight clothing and high heel shoes but that doesn’t mean she’s a ****** There’s a boy in my class who listens to rap music and wears baggy clothes, but that doesn’t mean he’s out on the street selling dope. There’s a girl in my class who rarely says to words and get’s straight A’s, but that doesn’t mean she’s a goody goody. People ask us all the time of who we think we are, but it doesn’t matter to them because before we can even digest the question and regurgitate the answer they have already made their mind up of who they think we are. Some people are considered a brain. Some a trouble maker or a **** A princess or a ****** But the truth is we are all smart, just in different ways. Everyone of us has some athleticism in us. Everyone one has gotten into some trouble. We have all had are princess or prince moments. And everyone of us is weird, some people are just better at hiding in it. You remember my neighbor I told you about? She dresses like that, not because she is trying to sell herself but because when she was younger she got bullied and no one ever noticed her because she never had designer clothes because her mother had no job and her father left when she was 4. And ever since then she made herself a promise that she would make sure people noticed her. And that boy with the baggy clothes? He wears those baggy clothes to cover up the cuts and bruises his father comes home from the and had one to many drinks. And the girl who get’s straight A’s and doesn’t say much? She get’s those straight A’s because if she doesn’t she gets a straight hand across the face and she doesn’t talk because she has sever anxiety. So the next time you point and laugh at someone remember that they’re 3 fingers pointing back at you. And the next time you assume something about something remember that when yo assume yo make an *** out of U and ME.
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27
I know you want me to shut the **** up Cut me off and not have a opinion I try to stop myself from being My vocal self my very essence Grab some some tape and have some fun Wrap it around my so called tongue That will give you some peace of mind At least for a minute while you unwind I’ll spare you my rants and my thoughts How silly of me to think so much Why speak up I only complain Nothing I say has any weight Smile pretty and behave like the rest Look good be quiet and don’t protest All is well as long as you Do as I say and don’t be brave Clean do dishes and act like you’re fine Ignore those voices that tell you otherwise You are the thing that I contain Into this box this square this frame It’s all I know and what I expect A learning curve and I suggest Get use to being treated this way Feel lucky feel privileged And don’t walk away I hold this over you I confess But what can you do except, accept? This is the way that things are done Don’t make waves or trouble my dear Just go along with what you hear If I keep you silent everybody wins And that is what keeps me, me and you with them If I hold you down then I succeed Which benefits us all as you will see What’s good for me is good for me And why I want you to smile pretty
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Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
Smile pretty
Borderline Personality Disorder. 1. The other day I woke up and thought I knew who I was I fell asleep and somewhere in between I lost myself I lost the feeling in my stomach too but we're still talking about how much we have in common. 2. My sweater got stuck on the hanger this morning I started to rip it down eventually I broke plastic and skin. I haven't been back in my room since. 3. 12:06 PM Today my best friend came home and took most of our makeup 12:07 PM I messaged her and mocked our friendship. 12:07 PM She was in trouble with her grandma and had to hurry. She didn't know. 12:08 PM I broke down crying. 4. I woke up at 7:32 AM and took 4 shots drank 2 beers smoked four bowls drank half a bottle of NyQuil and woke up the next day. I have yet to figure out why. 5. I wanted to be a horse trainer for 9 years then I decided I wanted to be an artist worked on becoming a tattoo artist matured into a writer fell in love with photography now I'm not even sure if I like school. 6. First scars appeared at 9 worst scars at 15. First attempt at 10 almost wasn't an attempt at 14. 7. I've been happy the past few days but I still want to **** myself because soon I'll be drowning in depression and succumbing to anxiety. 9. Once I got so bored I thought myself into sorrow. I didn't come out for a few hours but by dinner I was laughing. 10. I used to be in love with a boy but I didn't know so I used whatever I could get and now I'm alone. I don't blame him. 11. I've mentally lost myself as I screamed into the mirror and it wasn't me talking to myself. I don't really remember being there but I was.
0
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
11 Personal Thoughts of Someone with BPD
Borderline Personality Disorder. 1. The other day I woke up and thought I knew who I was I fell asleep and somewhere in between I lost myself I lost the feeling in my stomach too but we're still talking about how much we have in common. 2. My sweater got stuck on the hanger this morning I started to rip it down eventually I broke plastic and skin. I haven't been back in my room since. 3. 12:06 PM Today my best friend came home and took most of our makeup 12:07 PM I messaged her and mocked our friendship. 12:07 PM She was in trouble with her grandma and had to hurry. She didn't know. 12:08 PM I broke down crying. 4. I woke up at 7:32 AM and took 4 shots drank 2 beers smoked four bowls drank half a bottle of NyQuil and woke up the next day. I have yet to figure out why. 5. I wanted to be a horse trainer for 9 years then I decided I wanted to be an artist worked on becoming a tattoo artist matured into a writer fell in love with photography now I'm not even sure if I like school. 6. First scars appeared at 9 worst scars at 15. First attempt at 10 almost wasn't an attempt at 14. 7. I've been happy the past few days but I still want to **** myself because soon I'll be drowning in depression and succumbing to anxiety. 9. Once I got so bored I thought myself into sorrow. I didn't come out for a few hours but by dinner I was laughing. 10. I used to be in love with a boy but I didn't know so I used whatever I could get and now I'm alone. I don't blame him. 11. I've mentally lost myself as I screamed into the mirror and it wasn't me talking to myself. I don't really remember being there but I was.
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46
Why am I so dif-fer-ent? They say I’m out of touch. Why am I, ple-nar-ily sad? This life it hurts so much. And why do they come, come every day? Shush, quiet now, they’re here. Those awful tormentors of my soul all cackling and queer! Whirling head of spinning revolutions, …feel my stomach ache and pang. Why will they not leave me alone? This crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. I shouldn’t always feel like this, feel such solemn pain, …troubling and trouble is these birds are driving me insane! I’m screaming now! I’m mad with rage! Throwing ice cubes at my deck, “Go away! Yes, go away!” -their numbers must be kept in check. Blackhole-whirl, flying twirling darkness, their funnel it points to me-e-e-e-! For too many is too painful and my mind’s a constant wreck! One cannot think with those infernal be-e-e-asts, ...and the crazy song they sang. Why do they so punish me? The crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. I know they serve the Saturn’s wheel and now they’ve come for me. What did I do? Oh what great sin, oh the blackbirds from within; The Abyssimal Sea? Their whirlpool funnel is all around, as my harried soul, it expiates. I’m done-in; I’m over now, a sorely victim of the Fates! They took me, took me away, when the tolling bell it rang. Why could they not leave me alone? The crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. If you find yourself all alone and mired in their thought, …do not think, extirpate, all the human damage that you’ve wrought. His flock of fledgling melancholy musical formation, …will take you away and straight to Hell; the Seventh Circle congregation! For they took me, took me away, when the tolling bell it rang. And they will not leave you alone. This crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. *
0
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
A Crowing Lamentation
Why am I so dif-fer-ent? They say I’m out of touch. Why am I, ple-nar-ily sad? This life it hurts so much. And why do they come, come every day? Shush, quiet now, they’re here. Those awful tormentors of my soul all cackling and queer! Whirling head of spinning revolutions, …feel my stomach ache and pang. Why will they not leave me alone? This crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. I shouldn’t always feel like this, feel such solemn pain, …troubling and trouble is these birds are driving me insane! I’m screaming now! I’m mad with rage! Throwing ice cubes at my deck, “Go away! Yes, go away!” -their numbers must be kept in check. Blackhole-whirl, flying twirling darkness, their funnel it points to me-e-e-e-! For too many is too painful and my mind’s a constant wreck! One cannot think with those infernal be-e-e-asts, ...and the crazy song they sang. Why do they so punish me? The crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. I know they serve the Saturn’s wheel and now they’ve come for me. What did I do? Oh what great sin, oh the blackbirds from within; The Abyssimal Sea? Their whirlpool funnel is all around, as my harried soul, it expiates. I’m done-in; I’m over now, a sorely victim of the Fates! They took me, took me away, when the tolling bell it rang. Why could they not leave me alone? The crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. If you find yourself all alone and mired in their thought, …do not think, extirpate, all the human damage that you’ve wrought. His flock of fledgling melancholy musical formation, …will take you away and straight to Hell; the Seventh Circle congregation! For they took me, took me away, when the tolling bell it rang. And they will not leave you alone. This crew of darkness; Blackbird Gang. *
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36
I have a bit of a lisp. It's not too noticeable, but sometimes it catches my tongue and the next thing I know i'm linking my words together as if I fluently speak one of the 'love' languages. Let me tell you, there is nothing attractive about your S's and th's blending together as if you were a snake. When it happens I just want to lower myself to the floor and slither away on my belly and go and hide. But I will take the embarrassment of getting tongue tied as long as I never have to tell anyone, a final good bye. Because good bye's are forever. To be continued...
0
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
The Things that I have Trouble Saying
My head isn't bare So trouble i'm hiding You assume Under my scarf Within my hair Yeah, of course that's true Because feelings i don't have And to care i never do WOW what some people Sophisticated much in wardrobe and appealing, But how about thoughts and some feelings?
0
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Thoughts and feelings?