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liz Nov 2018
this is some ******* baby
u know i got the time
come unwind ur coils around
my soft body, make me
shiver, mr. knows me like
the back of his hand;
backhanded compliments
from tu pinche mamá
she thinks i'm perilous
never doubted u, but
she never believed in u either
& it's high time u and i
got high by the edge of the sea
in this world it's yeet
or be yote (u know i'm the goat)
baby it's just a joke, relax
the breeze is still blowin'
your hair into my face
& i can smell the fear in
waves crashing into the cliff
it's gonna be ok, corazón
sometimes u just gotta
yeet or be yeeted into
life, unhindered by her
& remember my heart is open
my body may be soft but
them waves ain't gonna break
against my soul tonight
if u love then u love. be wide open.
it's tried & true that the world is a lot more interesting when u give ur whole self to whatever comes & coils around u. so hesitation has its place here but only if u choose to welcome it in.

11.11.18 7:42pm
meme culture is prevalent here.
Fireflies May 2020
There was a time when she cared
To satisfy any need of yours, she was prepared
You gave her just enough to stay
And stay she did everyday
There was a glimmer of hope that she will receive love back
Every song related back to you, every soundtrack
One day, 3 am at night she laid there
Room dark, status of you being online a glare
She watched it switch offline, realising you never replied
Finally it ******* hit her that to be her lover you were never qualified
Males are only useful if they are fertile
Men are trash was not just a insta post, it became a lifestyle
If liking men was a choice
Trust me when i say i would have yeeted the boys.
So sick of tired of men that i drafted out a whole poem. Enjoy ;)
Derrick Jones Mar 16
I got so many feelings they leave me reeling, stealing second after second because I’m the first to leave and the last to go, too guarded to believe and too frozen to flow.

Words cut into thirds and still too long to belong but too short to be strong,

I’m not tough I’m all bluff and all guff  I know stuff but not enough
Hands cuffed and shoes scuffed I’m too rough easily rebuffed and left puffed

I hope one day I find a way to be alone and okay but for now my skies are gray even on sunny days and like the waves I know I’ll eternally return but for now I burn, endless fire and pain a pyre without rain burning forever, chains I cannot sever no matter how clever I spit my wit aint **** in the big mitt.

Held in the hands of the One but no lifeline comes so I feel like I’m being burned in the sun, taxed like earned income, vexed like an anti-vaxxer with a sneezing son, fried by having too much fun and lied to by myself as I lie down in the sun, shoulda used suncreen but my burned skin screams and my broken dreams teem around the edges of a vessel losing steam, engines down and shields almost depleted, if this is Star Trek than I’m a red shirt being yeeted, if it’s a contest I’m this close to defeated, a few feet more and I’m off the shore, swept away in the ocean and no potion can stop this downward motion more than gravity seized by the sea I see no light to swim toward so I get floored, and at the bottom I grab a shovel and start to dig, maybe if I lean in to my demise I’ll be able to fantasize that this was a choice, that I have a voice, that I’m more than another skeleton swallowed by time in the end, I got the bends I sank too fast and even if I try to rise again the nitrogen will do me in, so why the hell should I even try when I could just lie here lying to myself, another bottle off the shelf another twisted elf helping me help myself abandon wealth and fall into deprivation, depraved agitation with no sanitation, ***** not clean nice and mean like mice and men I’ve gone awfully awry and I’m not shy enough to hide my shame so in these words I confide, some part of me awake for the ride while the rest sleeps in the tide, hoping the waves take me home, soma holiday the only way I’ll feel okay, my soma and germ both squirm with the ancestral trauma I spurned until it churned into a calamity inside of me that consumes me in gloom and doom until there is no room to do anything else but retreat back to the waiting room womb.

I typed that in one breath but still death would not save me from myself, this is not a cry for help this is more like a review on yelp, my life review is five out of five in the shine and naught out of who cares when the rain lays me bare, and cold and alone my flashlight shone on white bone and rotting flesh, death so everpresent it’s like christmas every day oh yay I hope my sarcasm forces a giggle from a lip so that this eclipse lifts for the briefest second, a glimpse at the life I could have had but somehow missed, the mist covers my eyes, first second and third, and the bird’s eye view tells me I’m *******, but when I look from the floor, well that view ***** more, so I guess ******* less would mean success, but the report card is hard to care about when I carted out my art so long ago, I started out with eyes on the throne now I’d **** to throw myself a bone and feel like there was a hope I could atone or find a road to home.

Tones bring me joy, music from the noise, something I wish I could make but I feel deaf and dumb when I try so I numb myself with wine until I’m fine to eat off the vine that others planted, feeling like a waste of space I wish I could face my fears, face to the mirror without my eyes wide shut, but the feeling in my gut is like a rifle **** slammed by a soldier, the pain surges and smolders, aching shoulders make it hard to stand straight, grated down like cheddar I used to be better than this now I’m a sweater poorly knit, a useless *** and a hub of useless code that would erode the minds of better men if they let my poison seep in, so I keep myself at a distance, I witness, hide my mental fitness and put on airs to win the princess.

I’m sorry I stole your heart you should have never let it part from your chest because now I confess I come off like the best but I am cursed to sometimes be the worst, an endless thirst I cannot slake, relentless life I cannot take, smiles I no longer fake because the weight finally ground me down to nothing in the end, nothingness my final gift to lend I guess I’ll just make space until I finally find erasure, the sweet bliss of death’s kiss will launch me to the next great adventure, returned to sender, smart like Ender my heart was rendered fully now it’s rended dully, blunt knives hack apart ventricles that used to start a beat that moved my feet, but now like lead I feel less alive than dead, and hope for resurrection is my only real direction.

Someone give me sign. Help me climb. Remove my blinds. Remind me of the path to the divine.
Hanna Oct 2018
And in that moment she yeeted away from all the *******.
Amanda Shelton Sep 2022
Pumpkin spice and nothing nice,
Donald Trump lost his mind.

Pumpkin Donny Donald Trump
thought he could have his pumpkin
pie and eat it too.

I guess he didn't realize his brain
rotted years ago and it yeeted
itself out leaving him with
a 72 IQ.

©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
This is inspired by the current Donald Trump situation. May he rot in hell alongside his rotten pumpkin pie supporters. Who likes rotten pumpkin pie? Not me!
Sometimes Starr Jun 2024
(Soft and whispered, as in some pop punk song intros)

(The circle goes round
The spiral goes down
You become what you don't want.

Who is the cent-eral figure,
Is he a beacon of hope?
I'd-shuh hate to be so blunt)

(Power chords)

(Shouted emotionally)

You go on and be a paladin, cuz you can be, I
I'll just take the obligation
You deny it's what you do to me, do to me, but I know
I'm a blatant disappointment

If you could make me feel, make me feel, like weee hyad hope
Even if it was a **** lie
You would give me the sensation
Well before you were indi-yeeted
For every wohn of yoah **** lies

Now Iyhh, deon't, bleame you
For lyen to me, lyen to me
Lyi-ennn is all we kyann doh
Frommh, theatt, vantage
It ohmost seems like allll we evuh dooo
All we do is tahll - the - truth.

(More vicious)

The circle goes round.

The spiral goes down.

You become what you don't want.

Who is the center-al figyuh?

A beacon of hope?

I'd shoah hate to behy sooo blunt!

— The End —