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Vexren4000 Sep 2018
A maelstrom of madness,
A malign of mediation,
Tearing asunder land and sea,
Scraping the Earth,
A typhoon bring change,
And reminding humanity,
Of their lack of power.

Khoi-San Jul 2018
Extermination decapitation
Nocturnal obliteration
Armadillos anteater bafoon
Typhoon heatwave...
Grim Reaper
No grave can keep Her...
Men march on as to heaven
Twenty four seven
Three Six five days
Ten different ways
Passionate professional
Daring sharing nurturing
Caring...Monsters within Minions
Amazing people aren't they
There is no substitute for hard work
Just observe Ants
There is no substitute for hardwork
Just observe ANTS not a lazy bone there
Imagine the Queen becoming A motivational Speaker?
Heavy Hearted Jul 2018
;heart made of metal, you're too hard to soothe
as an iron *****, you coldly shine smooth.
n head full of ember, your trickily burnt  fire-
With its heat licks my lips, scolding hot with desire.
And then
Voice made of water,
may you speak of unknown
rivers lakes- oceans blue
Typhoon and cyclone.

And soul made of moonstone- may
outwardly you shine,
Dance, scintillating- a
pure serpentine.
“death everywhere, not age or ancient, just an infiltrated lack of life”

a puzzling, troubling line in a personal message,
instantly isolated for further review,
needy indeedy for a second medical opinion,
for it’s a description of two,
an actual place and a state of being

a place where death seems more commonplace,
not from agedness or honor,
but from a madness drunk from a special cocktail of
heat, guns and pseudo-rock stars, with beer chasers

imbibed by those who imagine themselves INRL  
in a movie genre of specialized urban cowboys,
subset horror flick,
self-appointed angels

part of a world view
so pervasive that it infiltrates the mental water supply
and modifies the pure children early on

demeaning existence, with a sense, a sendup,
life is unreal, cheap, so taking it-is ok,
justice delivered, for we angels,
are subset,
angels of death

in a country where
seven out of ten believe in angels,
and one in four confident that
the sun revolves around the Earth

look to blame
polluted water
the ever-overheated atmosphere,
bringing typhoon and storm,

I do not know

how be sun and water,
the essences, the originations of all life
today come to the planet days still
clear and warm,
yet can not infiltrate our personal mystery,
respire, re-spark the notion of the spirit,

the simple sanctity of life peculiarly human
call me by my other name
mystified momma
Rob Rutledge May 2013
The Aces check their sleeves,
Hearts rippling across the breeze.
The Queen arises
Torn dress ripped at the knees.

The Jack saw his fill
And quickly took his leave.
Stood trembling in a doorway,
Mind struggling to believe...

The King was an alcoholic,
It was widely known to be so,
Each eve he would sit solemn,
Wine in hand and sword on show,
Clapping to the Jokers' japes
As he danced and sang
About love and fate.
But how was the King to know?
Not two rooms away
His wife had lain,
With a smile and a *****.
Creating a cuckold and a fool...

The Jack had had enough
And promptly marched
To the throne room.
Armed with only knowledge,
Unleashes inevitable typhoon.

The winds will rise,
This house shall succumb,
Imploding inwards
Till the house is done.
And all that remains
Among ash and decay,
Broken hearts and broken spades,
Is the Jokers last laugh.
A mockingbirds call as daylight fades.
Shooting up with the metaphysics

"All those moment will be lost in time
like tears in rain"

"Wake up and smell the ashes"

Our universe is holographic, the 'verse is intersubjective

The eyecon watched the proceedings intently

Temporal/Quantum, macrocosm/microcosm

Enthralls Othrys


Consciousness and the molecule

Dawn in the heart of the city

Create and crave
and quest for gain

"Follow the white rabbit"

"Not all those who wander are lost"

"The right man in the wrong place
can make all the difference in the world"


Music of the spheres

Tear space and time

Virtuous devilry

Go beyond that sonder veil

Narcissism's a *****

Who ate Pandora's box

Bathed in half-light

And so "the Aeon Illuminate formed from the ashes"

Lost in the gaze of fall liberty

Shroom typhoon on distant shores

Heaven is dark and the dark is warm
Dopamine addict
scored, but itched
for a quick serotonin fix.
This sonder mirror, these
incessant cravings for opia.

Staring down mydriasis, that
bracketed emptiness, haunting
egolessness, one lasting hit, after
shooting up with the metaphysics,
Consigned to it, being strung out
on ∃xistence, whatever depth
you'd ascribe to it: a category.

Know passion is incandescent,
Embrace peace as effervescent;

Lost in the gaze of fall liberty,
Rainy daze in winter ecstasy,
Found in a maze of spring
empathy, azure haze of
summer vibrancy,

Mescalito tornado on desert sands,
Shroom typhoon on distant shores,
∀cid cyclone on the horizon,
Pharmahuasca maelstrom
drank the earth;
  *ion chaser
ate a hurricane, The Empyrean was born.
An unnecessary redux of my favorite lines.
Bryan Lunsford Aug 2018
It is within an unusually warm and early spring night,
Here, where I begin to feel something ever so unusual while looking deeply into this goddess' eyes,

With her eyes like a pair of diamonds sparkling in the sky,
It's at this moment–in this part of the night–
Love simply didn't need a reply,

With candles lit,
As it's surely to her delight,
And with rose petals all over the bed–
That, surely, was to her surprise,

Though, right now,
Can you really blame me for having this nervous butterfly-feeling whirling around inside?

For this will be the first-ever night that I'll get to hold this beauty tight,

And for such a divine beauty,
Surely I'd make any sacrifice to make sure her every whim and need is perfectly sufficed,

Yes, with our feelings for each other that couldn't be more pure or refined,
I already know, without hesitance, our love would satisfy any god's most delicate appetite inside,

And although, this world may never know how I truly feel inside,
I, myself, know with certainty that I love this woman more than anything I've ever loved in my whole life,

Yet, with nothing more than the sound of crickets chirping within the night,
I proceed to lay this beauty down–
Here, pulling her close to my side (where I tell her)
"I love you, angel, good night",

And even though, our love never did need a reply,
She said
"I love you too, sweet dreams baby, don't forget to hold me ever so tight",

And thus with this crazy, whirling, butterfly-feeling, again, that I begin to feel take over inside,
She rolls over unexpectedly and surprises me with a kiss to seal any other reply–
To only roll back over and close her eyes,

Oh, and in the midst of her every action–every move leaving me mesmerized,
She decides to move an inch closer to me,
(Where I wrap my arm around her thighs)
As it's also nearly simultaneously that I hear the clock's stride finally hit midnight,

With a chime that struck once–
Then struck twice,
I begin to hear a set of chimes strike–and strike until they chime twelve times,  
(As these chimes come from this evilly wicked, horrid and heinous clock of mine)

Yes!–with this clock being a clock that through time I have come to slowly hate and despise!

Though, this tower of a clock reminds me of its presence with not the tics nor the tocs–
No, only when the minute hand climbs and the hour's hand meets another notch,

As only then, within that second of the minute, does my mind's thoughts get crossed and rocked–
With my thoughts that become locked within a box
(As it'll be for the next sixty minutes)
I'll just lie there and remain distraught,

Oh, and you ask why?–
Simply because of this chiming noise that won't stop!

With these reoccurring chimes that take my sleep and make most nights a loss–
I can assure you that if I don't go to bed by one or two o'clock,
Any sleep for me will become more and more implausible by every tic of the clock,

Yes, nearly impossible–
For it'll be with the next four or five hours, I'll just lie there, roll, and toss,

Though this is a different night!–
As I'm reminded with our legs crossed and with our fingers interlocked,

Yet, here as I begin to feel the warmth of her body block and fend off any kind or sorts of lingering winter's frost,
I also sense that numerous candles are still glowing bright,
(With the sight of their ambient light flickering off of the bedside's wall from abroad)

And, within this room filled with sentiment as I hear not a sound at all,
I smell the candle's aromatic scents,
With the atmosphere within the air being ever so calm,

Until that is, I hear another chime of a ****–
With it sounding like a melody that's gone ever so wrong–
It's with this tower of a clock, right here, that has just let me know it's now the hour of one o'clock–
And one o'clock, right on the dot,

With only one lone chime that I heard–as everything then simply paused and stopped,

Though, within my mind and with these thoughts that refuse to stop,
I reassure myself–
Knowing that the time is only one o'clock,

For I know I still have an aplenty of time to close my eyes and make these endless lines of thoughts stop,

So to this brilliant mind of mine,
You know that it's clearly time to let these thoughts wander off,

Just close your eyes and let your mind stop–

Though, didn't I just say enough with your thoughts?

Oh, and I can see you might think a lot,
But clearly and obviously you're not thinking about squat!

So just stop or I swear to god,
If you don't stop with these god awful thoughts,
I'll have no other option than to smash and squash your head against these bricks outside of this wall and then leave you there to rot–

For if you don't stop this exact instant then I am almost certain your beautiful woman will become a loss,

And I'm sure you don't want that to happen again, now do you?

So just stop with these thoughts–
Quit fooling around and whatever you do–
Oh, and whatever you do,
Don't let this beauty see that crazed loony side inside of you,

Just fall asleep now and you both can wake up tomorrow around noon,

Yes, just close your eyes and count these sheep jumping over the moon,
And count them jumping one by one–then two by two,

Yet, between one and two,
Surely I knew I was bound to come unglued,
(With the loony that came right out of me as I hear a tune)

With a chime that struck once and then twice,
It left my mind to know not what to do,

Though, that doesn't mean I am confused,
With the duo of chimes that struck–
Only letting me know it's now into the minutes of the night that come directly after two,

And though,
As I begin feeling as if a disaster was nearing in soon,
Still, I knew not what to do–

Because I know nothing as I'm thinking of nothing and just fading away within the scents of her perfume,

(Where I begin fading away within this serenity and hearing not a tune)
I feel the weight of my eyelids begin to feel like a caving-in roof weighing at least a ton or two,

And with just one of a few wondrous thoughts still wandering on through,
I wonder
"Could this be sleep that is nearing in soon?”,

With this feeling of a wonderful tranquil sensation subduing and leaving my whole body consumed,
(As I'm weary and with clearly not a thought left in this room)
I take one last deep breath
(With my lungs swelling like a balloon)

And within a dream is where I have just entered into–:

Yes!–As I'm awakened and with the insanity within in me being let loose to roam throughout this room,
My mind, then, begins to shift back and forth (like something caught drifting between a typhoon and a monsoon)

Where realizing as I view that I've opened my eyes too soon–
With it being this beauty here of mine that is the one who is creating this horrendous little tune,

And feeling, as I hear–
With every single breath that she breathes rattling the room–the walls–and even the shingles upon the roof,
I feel my mind, here, completely coming all the way unglued–
For all I want to do is make everything within this room mute!

Yes, that's all I want to do!–

For I’m sure I wouldn't even be in such a foul mood if I wasn’t sleep deprived,
And if this beauty here of mine and her snoring roar weren’t the main culprits of keeping me, my mind, and this night alive,

Though, hearing with her roaring of a snore that is beginning to drive me crazy inside–
Yes, as she snores, there!–just an inch or two away from my side–
I hear with her snore only growing more and more–

As I, then, within this second, try to ignore a chord of chimes striking once, and then striking twice,
(With this clock striking three times to remind me once again of the time)

–With this night now being at least 3:03, 3:04, and could possibly even be 3:05,
I know this night is at the most three or four hours away from seeing the sun shine bright through my window blinds,

Oh, and surely I already know I probably would just close my eyes–
Yes, that's probably what I would do!
But this little beauty here of mine is worse than any set of chimes,

And surely indecisive,
(As I move the pillow over my ears while I'm consumed by an irritating form of fright)
I move my body a little to the left and then a few inches to the right,
Where I hear her demon's rumbling from inside,
And screaming as if they're trying to come out and fight–

(Which is where I begin thinking)
“Is waking her up really that much of a crime?”

For if she knew she was snoring at such a high decibel level,
Then I'm sure she wouldn't even mind,

And thus with my decisions that couldn't agree more with my mind,
I decide to slightly lift her head and wiggle her,
(As I nearly tickle her left side)

Whispering to her as I say,
"Baby, wake up, I just had the worst dream of my life!
Oh, baby, wake up, I just need to see those sweet little angel eyes!",

Though motionless–
There, as I try to keep my insane and crazy side inside,
My whisper begins to intensify to a scream
(As she refuses to open her eyes or give me a reply)

I continued to scream–SCREAMED!

"Oh, why, oh, why won't you open your eyes!",

And with her snore being the only reply that she could give me,
It literally drove me crazy inside–
Thus driving me as it drove me to climb on top of her body,
(Where I grab her nose and squeeze)

As it's within the silence and in this exact instant,
Instantly and unbelievably, I see I've hit a stride that I couldn't believe,

Yes, mesmerized!
And content beyond belief–
With her snoring, here, that has finally ceased–

–Casually, I proceed to climb off of her body
(Wherein realization I finally can go back to sleep)

And in the silence, again, as I hear not a peep,
I roll over, close my eyes, and before I could even count one jumping sheep,
I hear a roar once more coming from this treacherous little beast,

And surely with not a second more could I go without sleep,
(As this pillow, right here, has just become my best friend, and the most plausible way to get any sleep)
I decide to move this pillow over her face–with my exertion at first lacking any tenacity,

But what I'd end up hearing would be like a growl or a roar of a wicked beast,

With this sinister snore of hers only increasing more and more with every tic of my heart's beat,
I begin to feel my thoughts shift toward the sentiment of either insane or crazy,

(As my hands push with more and more of an intensity)
I begin sweating–feeling the smothering warmth of her body's heat,

Though, simultaneously as I hear her heart throb and knock an unstoppable and irregular beat,
I begin putting even more weight upon this pillowcase
(With a galore of my sweat dripping upon these sheets)

And surely I have to know,
(For it should be as obvious as could be)
That if I put any more weight upon this pillowcase,
I'd likely break through the toughest of the most unbreakable concretes,

And thus coming to the realization–
With this crazy side of me that has taken over and been unleashed surely not being me,

It's here, against the greatest of restraints
(As I'm barely able to climb off of her body)
I climb off and begin waiting within the silence–

Waiting and hearing not a peep,
Where seemingly prompting myself to say,
Here, as I speak!
"Good night baby–sweet dreams",

Though, I'd hear not a reply–
As a reply was something our love never did need,

Yet, as I roll over to climb under these sheets and close my eyes
(Where simultaneously it all has seemed)
I have fallen fast asleep within a dream while holding my sleeping beauty tight–

Holding her as I squeeze–
Holding her!–
With her heart that holds not a beat–.
Nowan Jun 2015
Here I am in my room
Crying and feeling alone
Looking for someone to help me
But no one wants to comfort me

Lots of things in my head
Don’t even know what to do
All I want is to get rid of you in my head
But my heart doesn’t want to do

I want to move forward
To see what’s on the future
But it seems I’m moving backward
Because facing the future is like a torture

I feel like my heart is full of wounds
I’m trying to heal it but I don’t know how
I feel like I’m drown
But I’m trying to save myself somehow

All I want to remember is our happy memories
But my mind refusing it
All I want is to love you
And my heart can’t refuse it

It seems that you are happy now
But I’m still living in the past
You are healed right now
While I am full of scars

Fair is not for us
You smile and I cry
Fair is not for us
You already have and I’ll try

You are my first and I’m your fourth
I’m trying to get used of it and you’re a pro
I love you ever with for
But for you it faded like a pro

You are my treasure
But I’m not your precious
You are my moonstone
But for you I’m your bloodstone

You are the reason of my happiness
You make me smile in a blink
You are the reason of my sadness
You make me cry in a second

I’m living now in a world with no hue
Because I’m not with you anymore
My life is in a mess because of you
Because I don’t wanna leave you anymore

They say find another man
But I won’t do that just to forget you
They say you are not worth it, ****!
But for me my heart belongs to you

J is my earthquake
You shook my world with high intensity
R is my typhoon
You blew my happiness suddenly
First Scar is a poem filled with sadness and pain. To the people out there just like me (brokenhearted), I feel you and don't worry you're not the only one whose suffering :'(
My body goes to such lengths
to part the waters and reveal
the war I fight against myself
Cruel words and battle scars collect
storing themselves in muscles
weary from strain
The typhoon building in my heart
has rose to a crescendo
pummeling against my walls
Suddenly, I long for solace
for blood to spill
and words to form
But whatever is within
locks itself away in my throat
lingering like a afterthought
Beaten and preyed upon
by it's own command
my body decays as my
mind runs
-Esther L. Krenzin-
Sometimes it's easy to feel ever so small. And even when you store it away, it demands to be felt one way or another.
Tyler Harper Feb 26
O, facing fate.
O, without grace.
With the woes, sewer grate.
Post rain seeps, all misses my face,
Cold steel on cheek, sets my sate.

But enough rain comes,
Past sewer's sum,
The tradegy shall come
And come and come.

Sweep me  
With a mighty typhoon,
Neptune's Lampoon.
Until my fingers,
get a fine prune
Kyra Feb 1
The Nor'easter in my mind won't settle
The inside of my scalp is wind-burned
Every step is won in a never ending battle
Every breath stolen like a meter of ground

I bury myself a trench
trying to escape the clutches of Zephyrus
All four gods circle around me in a typhoon of noise
Eos's sons, vultures in my head
Neurons travel and wind
around your head like
draping tree branches, Christmas lights,
strings of tangled red yarn
weaving a possible

When the cords are
simply content with
remaining relatively still,
being with you
is like
sailing on smooth,
tranquil, clear blue waters
of a vast, magnificent
a blossomed sunset
in the distance
dripping on white, sandy shores
of an island of lost paradise
awaiting our arrival.

But when the cords
flail and twist, tying each other
into knots and cutting off
the clearness
and levelheadedness of thought,
being with you
is like
trying to hang on to
the back of a typhoon,
frigid black waters flailing,
crashing against
foamy, thick quicksand,
roars and curses of a
tyrant sea god
raging seas of water against
the skies,
rapidly expelling
hurtful, sharp anchors and lunging
them to the bottom
of our sandy beds.

And I wonder
what it would be like had I
possessed more
powerful features
as your sea goddess,
as the moon and stars
from above,
and the sandy beds
below that would
catch both
hurtful anchors and
salty tears
you let loose.

When loved ones around you are content, sometimes it feels like what you have then is enough.
Then sometimes when they abrupt with anger, sometimes you feel hopeless as to what plays out as a result.
Gigi Feb 24
They always say “it comes in waves”
Sometimes the waves are your t shirts I sleep in.
Sometimes they are your secret chili recipe we will never be able to recreate.

Other times the waves turn into a typhoon.
They crash so loud around me
They drown out your voice
They drown out your laugh
They drown out your smell
I’m drowning
I can’t see

They are pulling me

I had a wave hit tonight for my dad & this happened.
Ethan Boston Sep 2018
We were love bird's on the honeymoon
But now we're cats and dogs in My room
Barking up a jebi typhoon
My mom asked is everything cool
Now you're a drag minus the queen
Now i'm a mess hotter than steam
We're in love but that's not enough
To see the shore from the sea
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
Out of the dark forest I stumbled
onto the pebbles of a moonlit lake
my languid eyes bumbled
swallowing down philter mistakes

a pale goddess in the flesh
how my stupefied eyes stared
at the beauty of her nakedness
something in me flared

flared and turned and burned
my flesh no longer mine
stag in form standing taciturn
she calls out for my canines

I run and try to yell
nothing escapes my lungs
pattering of legs hungry to quell
come to rip flesh with teeth and tongues

stumbling and tripping over
stones, limbs, roots and mud
left to a new life a stag rover
I hear the ******* and the studs

faster and faster I try to move
from this typhoon wave of carnivorous hounds
but curse these feeble hooves
the claws and teeth came crashing around

flesh stabbed with a thousand teeth
a pack of mouths tear and pull
a stag corpse I bequeath  
to the hunger of my own wolves
Ishika Aug 2018
In this moment
I’m a petal of rose
Often mocked that I am one
By other flowers
Who look up to the same sun

I feel plucked from my root
Mangled and ****
I was born bare
That which was my beauty
But in this crude exposure
trapped in some snare
My skin burns in ******

I feel ghastly blows of wind
And wailing typhoon
Dent rustic parts of my skin
Scream its cacophony louder than my whimper of pain
Making me beg for a light drizzle of rain

I wonder how I would be
If I were a dandelion
I could let my fragments loose
And watch their flight
Into ethereal sunshine

I’m a trampled rose
Like the woe in Christ’s song
I’ve plagiarised the words
It seems
But this is how it feels
To be forlorn

And I have a mind of my own
Alas! That’s what I thought
Until I learnt that it’s supremely influenced
tainted and stale
Like a can of delight
Only store bought
off a bargain

What if I were only a little flower
whose shoot grew
Piercing out of a rocky crevice?

A small star
trying hard to shine its hardest
in its constellation
Blotted with sparkling lights?

How can I make myself known?
Do I have to?
Is it a sin? To be alone?
To be a petal of rose and please you?

Can’t I be my own?
A flower that doesn’t have a Latin root
That can shy away if touched
And bloom when in mood?

No, I really don’t want to stick to a season
And have visitors
gawk at me then
I want to be really loved in person
Even when I’m dying
and my stalk is bent

now, I wonder
Does a flower think so much?
Does it write a poem
When its feelings are fractured
And they need a crutch?

I’ve seen it be
Just lucid and carefree
And, all of a sudden
I’m jolted with an epiphany
of simply being.
badtaste Apr 28
a dark and black spinning typhoon
with cracks of light spewing through
how I feel about life and society 17 years & .146 months old
Ciel Noir Apr 9
Rainbow bird
Whirls and swirls in a vibrant
Typhoon of colour
Osman Idris Jan 18
Your leadership is like the air,
With presence, only whispered,
You live far & further,
Furthest from our hands can find,
Your haste has filled our hearts,
Hating you like hell, that highly feeds on flesh
What else will I compare your leadership that hurts,

Better the typhoon wind that destroys quickly and leave, than your leadership that destroys slowly over  years
What else will I compare with your leadership that destructs.

Better the lion that kills only to live for that day,
Than your lingering greed of wealth that outweighs your weight,
Taking all gain, from all day five
They say, the world has wealth for all to live well,
But not for you, one vested with immense greed!    
What else will I compare, a leadership that is great with greed.

Better the drought and famine that withers our wealth, with equal measure across
But with humility of nature,
leaving pieces of trace, to rejuvinate all again,
Than your leadership that is out to loot all,
Lending little to your loyalists,
Leaving none to the rest      

Your leadership is like the air,
With presence, only whispered,
You live far & further,
Furthest from our hands can reach,
Your haste filled our hearts,
Hating you like hell, highly feeds on flesh
What else will I compare your leadership

Better the typhoon wind that destroys quickly and leave, than your leadership that destroys slowly over  years
What else will I compare with your leadership that destructs.

Better the lion that kills only to live for that day,
Than your lingering greed of wealth that outweighs your weight,
Taking all gain, from all day five
They say, the world has wealth for all to live well,
But not for you, one vested with immense greed!    
What else will I compare, a leadership that is great with greed.

Better the drought and famine that withers our wealth, with equal measure across and humility to leave a apiece, than your leadership that is out to loot all, lending little to your loyalists.      

Better the diseases that kills with slow eating the body, with no prevention and cure than your leadership that

etter the diseases that kills with slow eating the body, with no prevention and cure than your leadership that
Carl Velasco Aug 2018
Mother taught me flight.
Father, hover.

I learned haunt, whine,

From looking at men
stripped down to their tidies
in those Avon magazines, I found out
I liked them. Look at that paunch.
Also that crotch. And the studio light twinkle
on skin & eyes.

I looked at the *****. You have to know:
this was no sin. I covered my head
with lace antimacassar as I traced
this man’s junk with my fingertips;
I was covered.

Save for that,
I did right by rules,
most of the time.
Scraped knee, split lip,
didn’t cry at those, no,
as so ordered.

We never tell girls this, but did
you know us boys have a rite of passage
supposed to be kept secret? It goes:
Your father takes you to a hardware store.
You ask why, and he only says “this is day,
the mark of the man.” You nod.
He takes you to the aisle
with all the blades:
shears, scissors, awls, ice picks, whatever.
He lets you pick one. He pays for it.
Father takes you home, gives you the cutting tool
of your choice, and tells you to go to the bathroom,
face yourself in the mirror, and
“aim for the tear ducts.”

It’s kept secret because
it doesn’t work. Not always, anyway.
I’ve heard about other boys that missed,
both eyes damaged.

Not all, not all.
My gentle father didn’t:
he bought me Flu Game Air Jordans,
the one with maroon slithering around black.
Boys always got expensive basketball shoes.
I suppose he loved his boy, is all.

Father’s not that bad. Mother, neither.
Only clueless, maybe.
One time I came home too happy,
head-drunk thinking about this schoolboy crush,
and they never knew.
The first time I jacked off I felt the entire sky
strike my pelvis with a typhoon fizz,
and they never knew.
During prom a boy slashed my heart with a
scalpel (his cutting tool?),
and they never knew.

You can’t teach boys some things,
like how to whisper to another boy
when the light is out.
Arke Oct 2018
we dance in puddles on the rooftops
in the rain of a typhoon, I wait
for our hopes and dreams to blow over
sundress soaked to my skin
you tell me I'm a pretty little thing
you can't see my sleeves and my soaked hair
still smells like the smoke of a loaded gun, gone
I traded in my needs for sticky promises
you traded in your career for a losing ticket
after everything is said and done
will you slay your demons for someone new?
please don't let me consume you while we dance
on the rooftops in the rain until feet bleed
and pockets of trapped blisters form
it's too late now, isn't it?
to whisper that I don't like dancing
while you remind me that I'm wrong
of course my eyes would dance for you
look at how beautiful I am when I spin and fall
new bruises form and I look so good in blue
so I twirl because it makes you smile like you do
though it isn't fair of me nor you
to keep silent skies grey and air muggy
NerdyAlien Nov 2018
What a sad laugh, a sad smile— to say the truth, it was a vivacious one. But it hides a thousand words, a thousand of thoughts, a thousands of emotions. And not one was a good one. Tragic, sorrow, woe, pain— they're all in it.

Her body is but a cage of a swirling storm of thoughts, while her physique was the eye of the typhoon. It was calm, it was solemn. No one knows her dealings inside. Her screams, her cries.

It was locked—no, not locked but no one just noticed. No one CARED to notice. She was just a lone being, S. O. S. written with her own blood on the walls. She then knot a tie around the ceiling and surround her neck by the circular rope.

She kicked the stool she stood on and hanged herself with a smile in face, not squirming in the squeeze in her neck. When death was about to surface, she opened her mouth with a struggling breathless whisper— I'm finally free.
Goodbye :>

— The End —