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Lauren Sage Apr 2013
The world is ending, the moon fell down
Left a crater in the hearts of children whose parents were now just simply gone,
Sent to the non-existent great beyond

Moneys as worthless as amateur songs,
In the end I guess the Earth won
I'm adamant to admit,
My brain's not a muscle, my mind is not strong

You risk a kiss through my face-mask
Meant to repel love and asbestos
Well if I catch your flu I fear my life is no longer
Your lifeless eyes are all I lust for

Happy
Biohazard
We're
Happy

Is it wrong I think this is romantic?
Everyone we know is dead my darling,
My heart's undead I'll admit, what if we both got bit and there was one vaccine?
Then there's NO vaccine.

We'll ramble on about everything we miss
Like electricity and Christmas
On the bright side, hen February comes to town,
I'll be the only Valentine you have around

Happy
Biohazard
We're happy

I like to forget this desert tan
Drying the sun straight from the land
I like to forget this worthless hand
Claimed by your hard, stung in the sand
I like to forget this broken heart,
I will not eat, my deaths not far

(Happy)

You won't admit that things are better
Packed up and living in this desert
Well I'm gonna miss you when you're gone, but I won't write any grieving songs
And I won't kiss the sky and hope you're there
But I'll hold your gun and live your piercing stare
i like to forget  sometimes
That I'll miss you
And your technicolor pastimes.


We're happy.
cameran Sep 2014
one big tear in
the fabric of society,
the shut ins,
the outsiders,
the comic book geeks,
the gamers,
the carefree lovers,
the jokers,
they all want to fit in,
but why would you
want to be on the inside?
the biohazard *******,
and ken dolls aren't cool,
they're cruel.
"ew, your lame."
Wednesday Feb 2014
I think the movies ruined my life
I think you ruined my life

I think im sick
I think you made me sick in the head when you left

I think im nuclear waste in a biohazard zone
I think my arms are going to fall off

I check for cancer every day in hopes I have it and
I won't have a reason to live or maybe something more along the lines of
an excuse to say I want to die because
I have this stupid body I'm stuck in

and all I've wanted to ever do was see my bones
I used to think I was in love with the female body but now
I know I'm just in love with my own

for the past three years I have been slaving to the whiteness of my bones
I have been trying to **** myself so I can be cut open

I've been looking at my blood like
I'll finally find the poison that is inside of me

I just need a culprit to blame for this disease that floats around in my skull and wakes up all the dreams I never wanted to see
I just need a reason

I talk like poetry and
I move like a mistake most people don’t understand me because
I speak in similes and metaphors

I speak like coffee is dripping out between my teeth
look I'm doing it here and I don’t know how to stop

I question like a demand and
I have no excuses for the way I move

Maybe I'm just ready to blow the twin towers down again
Maybe I'm ready to crash this body like an airplane
Jeremy Betts May 2022
Everyone's dealin' with their own personal demon but I'm only ever bein' seen as a monster
Always judged accordingly, ironically by one family friendly imposter after another
Every other sinner the world over is allowed their own irrational feelings to be front and center
For them love is always the answer to offer, reassuring they need look no further
But I gotta "**** it up" and "move on" from this gutter faster which I take as to make sure my 50 caliber finisher is fully loaded with one in the chamber
And if the **** thing doesn't misfire on the first pull of this here trigger I figure I'll be a single bullet Russian roulette winner hero figure or would that make me a loser?
Am I an incurable cancer? I think I know the answer but I'm not sure and I'm sure not a doctor
However, it's only a matter of time before everything I touch turns into a disaster
Could it be that I'm just a carrier? An infectious delivery driver with t-rex arms making steering clear that much harder
What is pretty ******' clear is my presence here makes no one's life better, just spoiling the atmosphere, so I back pedal out of the picture
Then you label me a quitter the moment you notice I'm no longer there to be your *******
I guess I'll take that title if it'll make it easier or help you to feel better about what went down here, just please don't allow yourself to stay bitter forever
But rather allow time to erase my lingering stench of failure from the air altogether
It's only fair that I make way for you and anyone here to enjoy life without the fear of me being anywhere near
Your bright future wasn't mine to take and alter so I'll round up every bit of pain I caused that made your heart heavier and your life harder than it needed to be ever
Then take it with me to be a sacrificial offer next to me on the alter like a lamb to slaughter
Tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of your forever with no black cloud loomin' over

I gotta ask...

Who do I apologize to once the deed is done and I pull out of the race, refusing to run
Instead, turning the starting gun on myself to become a ghostly astral projection
It should be everyone but it'll be close to no one due to a punctured lung and crushed windpipe from being hung from inside the hole I dug starting back when I was young
No human being person type thing had a single **** to spare, not a one
Wouldn't even let a rerun apology or empty sympathy roll off the tongue, and forget empathy, ain't capable of none
Couldn't hear or didn't care before I was gone so I'm a shoe in to continue on holdin' the same position I've been in from my beginnin', now doesn't that sound like fun?
I've gone and done the forbidden so any opinion of me will only worsen as they lose sight of who I was as a person
Forgettin' my mind was a maximum security prison, the only way out presentin' itself to me was a coffin
But you're only focusin' solely on one particular fraction of an action
Ignorin' why that particular path was even taken in the first place, don't be mistaken, it wasn't a knee **** reaction
A quick observation and the pain would have been plain as the nose on your face but I caught no eyes lookin'
Just heads turnin' away the exact moment I notice 'em watchin'
Silently each formed their own conclusion and brought with 'em some ******* opinion from their twisted vision of me, all to feed the illusion
The one that claims I took the easy way out without explorin' any other option
You say you know me, you call me friend but have proven not to be in the end
But by all means, go ahead and continue to pretend you're the better person

How could you have known...

First of all, exhaustion was half the reason I was even in that head space
I could only envision this exact endin' ever takin' place as I fell from grace
I gave up tryin' to replace the dark with light cause try as I might it was all in vain, and in my haste I didn't notice the byproduct of a chronic toxic waste
Every attempt to place one foot in front of the other was riddled with set backs and laced with failure and I could never seem to rid myself of the foul taste of my own biohazard base
I'll be just another cold case with more than a trace of evidence but the answers in the proof aren't important enough to chase, never the time nor the place
Given up on before I even started the race so no warm embrace at the finish, no congratulatory smile from a familiar face
No one there to return my dinghy smile that's held in place with cheap elementary school Elmers glue paste
Why was the tare down so quick to take place with hardly an ounce of effort but the rebuild progressed at a snails pace?
There were many who watched all this take place in real time but avoided eye contact whenever face to face and I'm convinced that would have continued to be the case
I know I'm a disgrace now but wasn't until now so what excuses are you going to pull from your briefcase of two face ******* and put in place explaining why you turned your back on me in the first place, back at my birthplace?

Surprise surprise...

...a silence washes over the crowd. What happened to how proud you were with your intentionally loud gossip predicting what round I'd go down?
Were you only joshin'? Just clownin' around? Didn't think you could ever or would never be bound to something so profound?
Well here we are, you called it, the words bound freely from your mouth but now that things have gone south you're no longer able to enjoy the sound so you just turn it down
Or were you one of those hanging around saying I'd never do it but if you ever bothered to look into it you'd find the proof of the opposite truth can be found
But no, it's gotta be that I'm just desperate for all the attention it would bring to my part of town
Whatever, doesn't matter now, you could have never comprehended the reason why while shooting for cloud nine I got stuck six clouds down and wasn't able to post up for a rebound
It's only understood by people who've had the same problem with ups and downs and picking themselves up to finish the round after being so down and out that sea level was seen as higher ground
I know the way my last act went down is frowned upon and the deformation process was bound to take place once I was no longer part of the crowd
But look, you want to know why I choked down a handful of pill bottles for my second time 'round?
My problems were gaining on me quickly, I was steadily losing ground
They had to be drowned or at the very least inhumanely put down
I was no longer fun to be around, a bad joke turned evil clown
My darkness broke free from the compound where it was bound
And now wherever you see me it too can be found
Every day a new battleground
Every sundown a new showdown
A new possibility to possibly be hellbound
Just please set me gently when you put me down
And I'll try to do the same when I let you down.

©2022
Ashtin Johns Aug 2012
in my veins, these fiery flames, irritate like grains of forgotten names

call me insane, but at least I maintain composure and refrain from strangling myself deranged

even tho im convoluted, completely diluted and secluded from this polluted brainless blue ***

i can't shake these blunders of wonders that wake me from my slumbers and asunder like lightening after thunder

why is this society, full of variety, stuck on the wrong types of proprieties? to feed your satiety? to reach your notoriety?  

continue to lie to me. stream the feed on live t.v. the glamour of no individuality. convincing there's something wrong with me.

straight faced frugality. absolutely no morality.

they feed on the weak. while they silently weep. "beauty doesn't come cheap, so take the leap! buy now and don't be unique!"

******* grotesque! I'd rather rip my heart outta my chest than ingest that wretched mess.

"beauty" is born not molded and formed from biohazard waste and paste. hows that plastic taste while you constantly baste your neighbors in hate.

I can't wait til the day you meet fate.
Zero Nine Oct 2017
The last letter you sent to me
simply read, "Z"
as if you wanted me to see
it was too hard
for you to
complete my name,
even after everything,
still, you can't even
press it with a Bic
into some Hammermill

So, what can't they see?

The last letter you sent to me
read like a eulogy
for the woman you were
The praise was put on pretty thick
By your description
anyone else would see
me as biohazard, medical waste,
another toxic taste,
highly addictive, overwhelming,
an overall detriment
to your mental health

So, what can't they see?
Lover from another over moment,
what can't they see?

Doesn't matter how I conduct myself,
certain ears listen to certain mouths
regardless of the content, or the timing
There's been a Jean-Claude in pink
since the beginning, sitting in the trees
taking notes, waiting for the moment
I reveal something petty and honest
in a rare moment of our honesty

Feel free to rake up my mistakes
If you want to do us both, anata,
we'll need a bigger ******* rake

So, what can't they see?
Lover from another over moment,
what can't they see?
it's difficult for me to express myself.
You unwrapped my blind fold
I could only see this mess of deconstructed bones
The smog filled my bleeding nostrils
I gasped to know the truth of a world rotating in circumvention

Tangents of humiliation
A crab crawls back into its used receptacle
It does not have to face the uneven shadows
Fairy wings brittle and break

The ashes of frightened unicorns
Paths off way far into the emasculated jungle
Hidden silences wielded in your depth
Machines and paper plates

The trees of battered car horns and biohazard bags
The stereotypical infantile jungle world  
Without the echoes of the children you never should have had

Mary prostitutes herself on the corner
The Holy Ghost burns unnoticed

Please let us go back to a time
When we could sit still without retrograding voices
Telling us to progress and revolve
We can no longer feel awesomed in the presence of a structural anomaly

One that had never lived or breathed
Or failed
We were on the verge of a revolution
Before they took our fairytales away

The myths were replaced with shear and utter disgust
For the entire human community
Let us retreat to the forest of Incas and attack dogs
For we can not have a revolution of one.
Sam Temple Nov 2015
the CIA will never make the money off ******
it made off *******
******* is for parties
dance clubs
good times in social settings
******, not so much
dark alleys with ***** dealers
selling black tar
to hopeless souls
Mexican mules with **** cavities
brimming
carrying kilos into Nogales
or maybe Calexico
bow legged and sweating
just 35 more trips and sweet little Consuela
can be an American
until Trump gets his wall –
article after article relaying tragedy
the poor, lost in addiction
desperately seeking a coping mechanism
something to stem the tide of despair
and general malaise
dead in their prime
over a twenty sack
and low self-worth….
many friends and family this same tale…
some folks heritage is in ranching,
thousands of head of cattle
driven across the open plains
grandfather to grandson,
uncle and cousin….
others,
political dynasty
papa congressman
and auntie judge
but not mine –
the crest of my tree looks like the biohazard symbol
as generations of drug addicts litter the undergrowth
their weight attempting to hold me
lock me into familial history
unfortunately or fortunately
my will, and recognition of god’s power
flowing within me, as it..
I am my own master
and free to fashion my branches
to whatever my liking desires –
undercover government agents line street corners
whispering illusionary tales of release
stories of becoming void of pain
parables relating a free mind
to personal freedom
through chemical alterations
I whisper back
“I bet my **** is delicious,
wanna taste?” –
ARI Mar 2023
I always swear work doesn’t affect me.

Trauma?! HA! Never.

And for the most part I am ok.

But suddenly I realized as I counted every single calorie; every single bite… scrubbed every surface and washed my hands far too many times..

The fear of gaining weight; of relying on everyone else to care for me…

Just might be coming from the living people whose bodies are actively rotting. Flesh and fluids dripping off the sides of my stretcher.

My ambulance regularly becoming a biohazard until I’ve scrubbed every inch.

Listening to the sounds of weeping patients on their way to the ER for the 5th time this month because no body cares about them.

It’s not death that scares me. Not loss of limbs or sight that worries me. It’s not having anyone who wants to love me. Not having anyone willing to speak for me when I am broken. It’s the idea my mind can be pristinely sharp but my body defeated and needing someone. But no body cares.


That possibility is petrifying.

-ARI
American
Whiteness
the greatest mental illness of all time
even before they were diagnosed
the world has become safer
because the world finally
has funded a wall around America
a padded room institution
where the dissociative disorder
can destroy itself
and not everyone else in the process
the casual crisis
is an emergency
whiteness the coup d’état
is wreaking havoc
on the human soul
domesticated whiteness
riskiest to do business with
spilling blood all around the world
quarantine the biohazard
whiteness on its journey of impunity
when my family was most vulnerable
to the morbid lust
of the mental illness of whiteness
we gently genocidally refer to as social construction
which is really the deconstruction
of the black human
and the origins of humanity
American
American built by the pieces of my family
glued and mortared by the blood and sweat
spilled from them
the most dangerous deconstruction site
in the world
biological warfare
spewing
leaking
uncontrollably
contaminating humanity
polluting its evolution
at war with symbiosis
for the purity of fascism sake
a coup d’état called American whiteness
which is also been a long
untreated dissociative disorder
C S Cizek Dec 2014
My mom tried to sweep
clean the cigarette burns on the armrest,
and turned the plastic-cracked
lampshade away from rare houseguests.
The arrow-shaped gap melted
at the middle and leaked down
the shade like a stopped-
up gutter. Climbing out her bedroom
window, she knelt on the rotten
mint shingles and tossed matted
maple leaves as indiscriminately
as rock salt onto the glassy sidewalk
drinking in the overhead halo
of Penelec Electric and pine needles.

Needles—

The red biohazard suitcase
in the dining room is packed
full for distribution
in a Philadelphian switchyard.

City of Brotherly Burning Barrels
and railroad-tie benches—
but not for dressing up suburban
meditation gardens, or housing
yellow jackets and half-melted
Army men. For sitting, sleeping,
and supplying calf splinters
for small talk along the Schuylkill
River, watching the cell lights
of Eastern State get swallowed
whole by the systematic tall grass,
one by one, thanking some blessed
something for their freedom
in the boxcars, their *** and Lucifer
matches, and each other.

— The End —