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"ziplock" poems
a love poem, of new & old, why I am the summer-man!^ summer is winding down, sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags, marked and named by hue, the where and the when, so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help, when the good things those good blues aroused, poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all, quite the opposite, these cold blues may help, to recall why it was worth breathing summer is winding down, so am I, the synchrony no accident, time, the Pharmacy kitchen calendar claiming another victim, willing or not, those cars and the blue eyed models, are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken, not finger scribed, for the keyboard a jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical of confusion hellish and my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending their little children, beloved concubines of my heart the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo, tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much; the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight, tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby, tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair, making rhymes with her next-next generational  descendants, faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain; zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo, ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down! which she acts out with giggles galore, adding a teacup embellishment, a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping, the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny, but time to me *** and take a needed morning ***** no poppy! no poppy! no poppy! no nap, no *** no ***** thinking the call out is for her, stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out, foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her, get wheeled away crinkled and crackling, *zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down!* a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
0
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
#1299 : a new & old love poem: I am the summer-man!
a love poem, of new & old, why I am the summer-man!^ summer is winding down, sky’s multi blues freezer safe stored in ziplock see thru bags, marked and named by hue, the where and the when, so when the eyes finally fail, when the squinting don’t help, when the good things those good blues aroused, poems, lush and morning thanks for being alive come-not-at-all, quite the opposite, these cold blues may help, to recall why it was worth breathing summer is winding down, so am I, the synchrony no accident, time, the Pharmacy kitchen calendar claiming another victim, willing or not, those cars and the blue eyed models, are now but blurred wishes and hopes, even these words, spoken, not finger scribed, for the keyboard a jumbled jungle of alpha-numerical of confusion hellish and my sons don’t come to clean up my pathetic messes, sending their little children, beloved concubines of my heart the daytime watcher, spanglish her native lingo, tho single words she’s pretty good at too, but that don’t help much; the grands, toddlers to pre-teens, the eldest a womanly eight, tries but soon frustration bored, slips away quiet like replacing her with her two year old sister, who knows her alphabet which ain’t an exactly a help, but her five pencils stored^ nearby, tagged with her name, awaiting her poems, her one true legacy try to imagine her as a grandmother, farseeing the day when she occupied this too too hard to-get-out-of-by-myself “easy” chair, making rhymes with her next-next generational  descendants, faint remembering the silliness sorcery that I secreted in her brain; zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo, ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes, gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down! which she acts out with giggles galore, adding a teacup embellishment, a creme fraiche pearly teeth smile topping, the day watcher agrees, verrry verrry funny, but time to me *** and take a needed morning ***** no poppy! no poppy! no poppy! no nap, no *** no ***** thinking the call out is for her, stomping her feet in an alternating rhythm and rhymes I, happy poppy, ecstatics drooling out, foreseeing the rhyme is strong in her, get wheeled away crinkled and crackling, *zingo, bingo, lingo tango, ginkgo, jingo ** ** oh no, oh no! ashes gray hairy poppy is a silly, when he is not a grumpy, old man all fall down!* a new genre me of gibberish summertime love poems
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57
It twas a chunk. A bootleg papertowel, ziplock baggie, hairband combo Allowed me to continue Cutting and subsequently cooking Perseverance? Check. Being a bad ***** Check. Maintaining a sense of humor while I'm gushing blood? Check. Jamming 90s alternative rock with my nineteen year old brother? Check. No ******* this time though.. He wouldn't allow such.
0
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
It twasn't a cut
save breath for later lungs in a tupperware container ziplock baggies full of sounds the ones, the words I'm too tired to make hang my eyelids on the clothesline to dry, leave the weight behind pull all my teeth plant them in the ground grow some new ones place them in my mouth and let them fall out that's not how to smile
0
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:42 AM UTC
household chores
Two Children fell in love After they colored the squares And shaped the circles And fit their hands around the lunchbox Firm and slipped out the plastic Ziplock bags An fought over what was inside
0
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
Recess
Two Children fell in love After they colored the squares And shaped the circles And fit their hands around the lunchbox Firm and slipped out the plastic Ziplock bags And fought over what was inside
0
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:08 PM UTC
Recess
Today, I want to sink my chest into yours. Your heart pumping blood through my veins for a bit, mine doesn't want to anymore. Let's trade. I'll put my brain on ice. Wash this skull cavity with some minty fresh chemical while my wrinkled pink mother board discovers cryogenics. When I place it back Into my tingly, almost numb now, chemical washed head I will still feel heavy. I want to turn to a whisp. Like the Night Elves in World of Warcraft. A floating blue orb of energy Just a spirit, weightless. Let me live as electricity, like that spark you felt . Like that spark they all felt. Place me in the power lines so I can power houselights and televisions. Let me be usefull for something again. Don't convert my head though. Keep that on Ice. Better still, creamate everything but my heart. Let the ashes get caught in carpets and drain pipes Kept in little ziplock baggies, Tucked in a wooden box, Kept back seat of my mothers car, So she can hold it once in awhile. Until she parks her car in a bad part of town And a homeless man breaks in Doesn't steal the gps, or her wallet on the front seat, But snorts me three hours later Thinking he just hit the jack *** That's where I want to be. In the lungs of some car burglar Where his addiction should have been, coughing on my ashes. He won't get my heart though. Keep that frozen in a white room. Smelling of copper, by a tray of tools, Latex gloves and paper masks. One day, thaw it out bring life to someone.
0
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
Scrapyard
We all wear clothes, and lick our lips against the cold. As a child things close with a ziplock zip, and grass made you a woodland nymph. A sentiment arises on the first day of school—and you say: never let me go or let me go at once— With a stubborn tug in the passionate bones long gone by lunch
0
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 9:39 AM UTC
We all wear clothes
poetry isn't just for white people, Vivian isn't a girl's name, and I will wear these white jeans past Labor Day. we forget that we could touch the stars if we ******* tried, but instead we are here, drowning in atmosphere, choking on our inhibitions. there are ten pills tucked in the very back of your desk; you love them but they're about to become a crutch, and you are frightened. I don't **** with that new **** but it's not like you care. I'm still the same ******* idiot, total trash, I deleted your number and I won't send you snapchats, I wonder if you deleted my dickpics. lost intimacy, windowsill cacti, a Ziplock full of ******* stuffed inside your pillowcase; I went for a run, your name traipsing about my prefrontal cortex, smashing memories, beheading roosters, screaming incoherently about subprime mortgages and credit derivatives. the government is lying about 9/11 but no one really cares; the government is arming oppressive regimes in Missouri but white people don't care; would that I had such willful ignorance, the right to ignore the slaughter on our front lawns. my parents started from the bottom, they survived in America, decapitated birds on the doorstep. I do not have their strength and I am washing Xanax down with Gatorade and refusing to apologize.
0
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
spirit animal: maggot
We watched three DVDs of Elvis on the Ed Sullivan show, Just to find you waving in the crowd for a quarter of a second It was brief But to see you so young And gentle and light Was worth the hours Of black & white tv And jokes that are no longer funny The first night I met you You asked me if I was a writer And I asked how you knew You said it takes one to know one I read your poetry for three hours In Indian style on your living room floor While you ate crackers from a ziplock bag And talked about the love of your life And the way his chest felt The first time you used it as a pillow You told me not to cry When Elijah dumped me You said pain is everywhere, I'll miss out on life If I let it consume me I turned to leave your room On a random Sunday last December, It was cold and wet and dark, And I was tired, You grabbed my hand And stopped me in my tracks You said "learn to relax" And then you held me still Until you saw the anxiety melt out of my eyes I asked you why you Bother to keep the car Even though you know You'll never drive it You asked me why I bother to love the sick Even though I know They're dying You told me "don't close the blinds, The world is beautiful" Last time I came to say goodnight You kept making plans, Where you'd go after you left here Even though "here" was certainly The last place you'd be I never understood Why you kept pretending; Pretending there was more I get it now, Peggy I know
0
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:38 PM UTC
Diet Coke
When I was a kid, and all of my friends were kids, and all of us kids lived down the same street that I still live on as a not kid that none of my kid friends still live on as not kids, there was a day in the summer, or the spring.... my not kid brain has a hard time conjuring up my kid thoughts, I just remember walking outside and it was so hot And we fetched our bikes from the shed and walked them to the blacktop only to find the greatest gift nature could bring us: a thousand tiny caterpillars crawling on the road. We couldn't ride our bikes in the street or we would squish them so we dropped them where we stood and did the only thing we knew we should: ran inside and asked mama for the ziplock bags and collected as many as we could. We thought we were saving them from any cars that might need to go down our dead end road. We didn't know what to do with them so we kept them in the bag and left them in my kid friends parents living room, sealed tight so nothing could get to them. The next morning we went to check on them and the bag was empty. Looking back now, I realize we probably deprived them of oxygen, starved them of nutrients and space, and probably separated them from their families. I feel bad about that, but that's not the point. The reason I am recalling this memory and putting it into words is because I've had an epiphany. They were robbed a chrysalis, they never flew away as beautiful butterflies. They slept overnight in a bag with many others, waiting to puddle and flutter before they chewed their way through plastic or they died. What we did as kids to those caterpillars, it's how I love.. Sometimes I find caterpillars in the pits of people's stomachs and my intrigue is spiked like a child's with wonder, but I always pluck the caterpillars before they get too far.. Maybe I'm a secret sleepwalker and I unconciously let them go. I sure hope so.
0
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
Chrysalis
When I was a kid, and all of my friends were kids, and all of us kids lived down the same street that I still live on as a not kid that none of my kid friends still live on as not kids, there was a day in the summer, or the spring.... my not kid brain has a hard time conjuring up my kid thoughts, I just remember walking outside and it was so hot And we fetched our bikes from the shed and walked them to the blacktop only to find the greatest gift nature could bring us: a thousand tiny caterpillars crawling on the road. We couldn't ride our bikes in the street or we would squish them so we dropped them where we stood and did the only thing we knew we should: ran inside and asked mama for the ziplock bags and collected as many as we could. We thought we were saving them from any cars that might need to go down our dead end road. We didn't know what to do with them so we kept them in the bag and left them in my kid friends parents living room, sealed tight so nothing could get to them. The next morning we went to check on them and the bag was empty. Looking back now, I realize we probably deprived them of oxygen, starved them of nutrients and space, and probably separated them from their families. I feel bad about that, but that's not the point. The reason I am recalling this memory and putting it into words is because I've had an epiphany. They were robbed a chrysalis, they never flew away as beautiful butterflies. They slept overnight in a bag with many others, waiting to puddle and flutter before they chewed their way through plastic or they died. What we did as kids to those caterpillars, it's how I love.. Sometimes I find caterpillars in the pits of people's stomachs and my intrigue is spiked like a child's with wonder, but I always pluck the caterpillars before they get too far.. Maybe I'm a secret sleepwalker and I unconciously let them go. I sure hope so.
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12
The people to the left of me want to get married, but not to each other. Mawwiage is a funny word. Gopher? Potato. Crawdad. Wobble. Jiggly bits. Harmonica. Put your arm on it, cousin. Guzzle. Doozy. An ornery snool. Troglodyte. Haysoos was a troglodyte, that's one of the most hilarious sentences I can think of. Dudebro and ******* are nice. Dankrupt. Barbie. The urban dictionary gave an example sentence using Barbie: if Barbie is so popular why do you have to buy her friends? Perhaps if I memorize that line and say it, I'll get a half second of laughing, showing I have the value to entertain others for about two seconds. That'd be a nice feeling. I'd feel peach-fuzzy. A woman is standing with a rainbow of candy in a ziplock bag. I can't make this stuff up. Life is so incredibly fascinating. Just kidding. But really, that's some bright stuff on display in her transparent bag.
0
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
The Chore of Being Funny
Dear underclassmen, You will learn so much. You’ll learn that when seniors tell you the main stairs are only for upperclassman they’re lying, that freshman Friday isn’t a thing, and elevator passes aren’t actually real. You’ll learn WWII started in 1939 and it was the bloodiest of them all. You’ll learn that sometimes, things don’t have to be ****** to be painful. Sometimes sterile wounds heal the slowest. High school will teach you to love with a vigor you didn't see coming and to hate with a passion you never saw possible, and you’ll find that after feeling them both so deeply, it sometimes becomes impossible to tell the difference between the two. You’ll learn about drugs- that they don’t always come in little ziplock bags or orange pill bottle. You’ll learn that often times, they don’t come in powder or pills at all- they come in words on a page or in blue eyes staring at you through wayfarer glasses that are so clouded you find yourself wondering how they can even see the world around them. You’ll find your drug- everyone does. You’ll know you’re addicted because to you, it's what keeps the earth spinning on its axis; it's what puts the stars in the sky; it's what you see when you hear the word love. You'll get addicted to something, and you’ll lose it, and you’ll move on. You’ll learn that things can change in the blink of an eye, which is just as fast as we are to post our emotions in 180 characters or less, just as fast as we are to scrutinize others for who they love, what they wear, and what they’re addicted to. Things change as fast as the speed of sound: 186,282 miles per second. I learned that in chemistry. I also learned that Fleen Dog wasn't kidding when he said if you lean in too close to a Bunsen burner your hair will catch on fire. I've learned that if you don’t stay in the inexhaustible realm of school dress code, you’re a delinquent, but if you wear hoodies everyday, you’re a scrub. If you don't, you're a try-hard. I've learn that for some reason the word try-hard is an insult. I've learned that stares can be so heavy you can physically feel the weight of their eyes pushing down on your back as they watch your every move, but more importantly I've learned that those stares only matter if you actually let them. You’ll learn that often times- there is no correct answer and sometimes you just have to choose what you believe is the most right option because it’s better to guess than to do nothing at all. You'll learn that even in science, not everything is black and white, that sometimes the best way to learn is by diving in head first, and if you feel your skull crash into the bottom of the pool, know that you will resurface.
0
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC
A spoken word poem
Dear underclassmen, You will learn so much. You’ll learn that when seniors tell you the main stairs are only for upperclassman they’re lying, that freshman Friday isn’t a thing, and elevator passes aren’t actually real. You’ll learn WWII started in 1939 and it was the bloodiest of them all. You’ll learn that sometimes, things don’t have to be ****** to be painful. Sometimes sterile wounds heal the slowest. High school will teach you to love with a vigor you didn't see coming and to hate with a passion you never saw possible, and you’ll find that after feeling them both so deeply, it sometimes becomes impossible to tell the difference between the two. You’ll learn about drugs- that they don’t always come in little ziplock bags or orange pill bottle. You’ll learn that often times, they don’t come in powder or pills at all- they come in words on a page or in blue eyes staring at you through wayfarer glasses that are so clouded you find yourself wondering how they can even see the world around them. You’ll find your drug- everyone does. You’ll know you’re addicted because to you, it's what keeps the earth spinning on its axis; it's what puts the stars in the sky; it's what you see when you hear the word love. You'll get addicted to something, and you’ll lose it, and you’ll move on. You’ll learn that things can change in the blink of an eye, which is just as fast as we are to post our emotions in 180 characters or less, just as fast as we are to scrutinize others for who they love, what they wear, and what they’re addicted to. Things change as fast as the speed of sound: 186,282 miles per second. I learned that in chemistry. I also learned that Fleen Dog wasn't kidding when he said if you lean in too close to a Bunsen burner your hair will catch on fire. I've learned that if you don’t stay in the inexhaustible realm of school dress code, you’re a delinquent, but if you wear hoodies everyday, you’re a scrub. If you don't, you're a try-hard. I've learn that for some reason the word try-hard is an insult. I've learned that stares can be so heavy you can physically feel the weight of their eyes pushing down on your back as they watch your every move, but more importantly I've learned that those stares only matter if you actually let them. You’ll learn that often times- there is no correct answer and sometimes you just have to choose what you believe is the most right option because it’s better to guess than to do nothing at all. You'll learn that even in science, not everything is black and white, that sometimes the best way to learn is by diving in head first, and if you feel your skull crash into the bottom of the pool, know that you will resurface.
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22
you are waiting waiting waiting suited up in your spirit of self-loathing, eating a full helping of anxiety every day for lunch mucking your ears with the wax of negative self-voice making it hard to hear the whisper in stillness as for me, I will live live live even on those days when you can’t come along I won’t wait for spring and every dream I’ve ever had to happen before my heart can be light before I can sing and exude sunshine and if my warmth can open your tightly closed bud, I will shine until we bring forth color this exact moment will never happen again our closets could be filled with maps books and autographed vinyls but if you put a picture in a ziplock bag remember the life in that bag already ran out of air whether waiting for tomorrow or wishing for to-day the only heart that’s beating strong is right now
0
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
The Human Condition
Ziplock tie, a piece of skin caught in a jean fabric stained, sticky sweat under a cool breeze. A little wind in between; hanging cause Shaving necessary for release from pores Bumps and scrapes awkward looking, and ingrown hairs blades of grass—pasture flesh land Sprints of watered perfume, and the only time man has a tender hand Cleanliness; cleanse of appearance to look and feel good in the end              _...do play ball in taking care of your *****
0
Nov 29, 2022
Nov 29, 2022 at 3:24 PM UTC
Manscaping
I’ve sat in throngs of people, between seas and seas, knowing there’s a small chance salt gets called by its name CaCl2 instead. I’m constantly aware I am one compound; full, contradictory, Knowing people will find In the ocean of things More salt as oceans evaporate, Lifting to clouds, Till only enough is left for us to swim in. A little girl, collects the beautiful things, the Seashells people always want —conversation, joy, money— In ziplock bags, with water and the handful who can handle it, And we, Undesirable stay in the sea, Brushing from horizon to horizon, until we’re swept up, Or drown someone.
0
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
Sea Salt Caramel (The Silver Lining)
Today, we have surgery I sink my chest into yours. Your blood pumping through my veins for a bit, I feel heavy. I want to turn to a whisp. Like the Night Elves in World of Warcraft. A floating blue orb of energy weightless electricity, Spirit in the power lines, like that spark we felt. Tealight in a gas stove, left on for 6 months When I am cremated My ashes will be Kept in little ziplock baggies, Filed away in the back seat of my mothers car, Until she parks in a bad part of town You break in Leave the quarters for the tolls Leave the GPS cupped to the windshield. Then snort me, in my mothers backseat. Thinking you just hit the jack *** That's where I will be. Charcoal cave painting your nasal cavity coating the inside of your lungs like a cigarette. Replacing your addiction. This surgery The Aorta of copper perfume, Scalpels summoning blood, I, scavenged from the wreckage my heart inside you, the rest scrapped in a kiln. If they botch the surgery cold Iron will be the last thing you smell. I, a spark grounding from your chest. Heart still beating.
0
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 9:21 AM UTC
Surgery
June took root in the same way you learned to scream but now it's fall and you're trying to sing. It slipped away from muddy lids like lifting a veil, like stepping into a bath, (toes, sole, calf. toes, sole, calf.) and crawled unseen behind apartment-light echoes; crooning sultry half-truths, weighing down vascular walls. My heartstrings aren't laundry lines but the conversations we never finished (last night, last week, last year) hang from them; pinned to sheets, unbothered. It's pulling on my sleeves;  heavy and damp. The wind isn't howling but I don't want to hear about the dream you had where I was a Priest, where I was hitchhiking, where I cut off my hair in a taxi's front seat, and gave it to you in ziplock bags. A hazy sky; slow and sweet, coats my traipsing moods like honey and sticks to the bottom of your favorite mug (yes, that one, with the chipped rim and your rival high school's logo.) We're still here, springing forward and listening. It's growing, humming cold verses in a new language while we watch his name take shape in the mist accidentally. You don't mention how fiercely I'm blushing and I'm grateful I don't have to laugh it off. Some days laughing feels worse than puking. We are still here. We are still. We are. I'm looking for something important and I won't know it until I see it. It's morning, it's warmer and we lift our chins to coastline. I blow smoke upwind; today physics is purely speculation. Today I feel like secrets are extinct and I'm certain the day is so much clearer through my Atlantic eyes than their protesting embrace. You can keep June, I'll take the sky.
0
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
Without a Title
June took root in the same way you learned to scream but now it's fall and you're trying to sing. It slipped away from muddy lids like lifting a veil, like stepping into a bath, (toes, sole, calf. toes, sole, calf.) and crawled unseen behind apartment-light echoes; crooning sultry half-truths, weighing down vascular walls. My heartstrings aren't laundry lines but the conversations we never finished (last night, last week, last year) hang from them; pinned to sheets, unbothered. It's pulling on my sleeves;  heavy and damp. The wind isn't howling but I don't want to hear about the dream you had where I was a Priest, where I was hitchhiking, where I cut off my hair in a taxi's front seat, and gave it to you in ziplock bags. A hazy sky; slow and sweet, coats my traipsing moods like honey and sticks to the bottom of your favorite mug (yes, that one, with the chipped rim and your rival high school's logo.) We're still here, springing forward and listening. It's growing, humming cold verses in a new language while we watch his name take shape in the mist accidentally. You don't mention how fiercely I'm blushing and I'm grateful I don't have to laugh it off. Some days laughing feels worse than puking. We are still here. We are still. We are. I'm looking for something important and I won't know it until I see it. It's morning, it's warmer and we lift our chins to coastline. I blow smoke upwind; today physics is purely speculation. Today I feel like secrets are extinct and I'm certain the day is so much clearer through my Atlantic eyes than their protesting embrace. You can keep June, I'll take the sky.
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37
you are a child opening presents at 6:34 PST on a Sunny Christmas morn in PASADENA, CA while her parents look on in feigned interest razor scooter abandoned amid crushed scrunched wrapping paper as you tear apart a box of Legos for the plasticky viscera contained therein. you are a teen, finding marijuana at 15:34 CST under a bed in BOULDER, CO while your parents shout at your brother feigning sympathy simply to ****** it back and you are wrenching open ziplock to swallow a chunk of his stash and you find yourself enamored with the aroma. you are a woman, fighting for equality at 10:26 EST wielding picket sign (paint and sharpie on cardboard) and megaphone in MANHATTAN, NY while your parents turn over in their graves, uncertain what you are fighting for.
0
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Ellie Anne
how soon do we forget how we felt? dealing with emotions that never left playing with the hand that we were dealt in this game maybe i'm a sinner and you're a saint we got to stop pretending what we ain't why are we pointing fingers anyway when we're the same? break up make up total waste of time can we please make up our minds and stop acting like we're blind? if the water dries up and the moon stops shining stars fall and the world goes blind, boy you know i'll be saving my love for you for you you're the best mistake i've ever made but we hold on hold on there's no *** of gold in the rainbows we chase i guess time's wasting tick-tocking lip-locking how can we keep the feelings fresh? how do we ziplock it? wear your heart out on your sleeve watch out for pickpockets i guess to go to distance we might need to pitstop it i know love can be a beach with no shore i count to 10 lost my temper went back to 4 i know sometimes it's hard to realise i'm the one that you need i had a dream we branched out started a family tree i feel like that everything we do is overdue you ask why i love your dad so much he's the older you i wish that you were happy i guess that's the one thing i should be providing couples are only human except you i'm only lying to you when i lie you down just being honest when you start as friends it's hard to say you're never going back if i'm not the one then i'm the best mistake you ever had
0
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
best mistake
Today I went to a bookstore A grief observed by C. S. Lewis. Into a ziplock bag went this book, and A quote from C Raymand Beran --what is a friend? I will tell you. I drove the forty minutes along the dull highway Lamposts like hovering, ghostly figures, And slipped this package under the windshield wiper of your car. Why is it that my own words can't express What I'm feeling, so well as others do? A- For the tenth -a friend Those were my only words. Your mother died eight months Ago tomorrow, and here I Sit. Selfishly hoping you'll speak To me again.
0
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
A grief observed
I'm not defined by names or tags, Or what I carry in ziplock bags, I am what I try to be, Not what this world labels me.
0
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC
Me
why do we wrap things so tightly? pushing and p u s h i n g out all the air? longevity revealed by creating a void. _? (the light in the treehouse is tweaking) and the cat is drinking. an all the air is gone.
0
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
ziplock
need somewhere for shampoo on the go? put stuff in ziplock cut with hot knife pods! unwanted texts? SMS: SERVICE ERROR 305: MESSAGE DELIVERY FAILED. FURTHER MESSAGES WILL BE CHARGED TO ACCOUNT. bad day? google snakes in hats
0
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC
life hacks:
Please hold on to my dreams for me Put them in a ziplock bag, carry them wherever you go But don't give them to me I lose them so easily when they are alive I only find them once they've died I'm sorry for my recklessness, but know that I've tried I want to hold my dreams the closest to my heart Inside my passions and within my hope Swirling feelings of bliss hide with them I want to keep them safe from my doubts and insecurity But I can't be trusted with such fragile things In my hands they tangle and fray Falling victim to procrastination and vanity Tattered and bruised they lose their shimmer Like pyrite and nickel they lose their shine What happened to the glitter and blinding glow? As my belief and trust in myself fades All I see in my dreams Is someone drowning at sea
0
Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 6:13 PM UTC
Dreams 2