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    1. chocolate.

      My phone sits, as I, in silence In my room – alone. I hate myself, but seem to lack the energy To dig into my bones. When I was younger I was told that One day God would call me home. Instead the...

      My phone sits, as I, in silence

      In my room – alone.

      I hate myself, but seem to lack the energy

      To dig into my bones.

      When I was younger I was told that

      One day God would call me home.

      Instead the coffin calls my name in whispers

      And beckons the unknown.

      .

      Why do I feed a body with a

      Soul that keeps depleting?

      When all my hopes and expectations come up

      Short and keep receding – I

      Start alternating between plotting,

      Thinking, pleading

      That I’ll make a rash decision, they’ll

      Give my organs to the needy.

      .

      Perhaps I’ll drive a stake into my head and chest.

      No one should endure this mind or heart.

      Meditation never seemed to give much value,

      All the medication felt a farce.

      I’m an incongruent, uncompleted puzzle

      Dangling from a bridge; falling apart.

      I watch my pieces sink below into the water,

      As this letter dances all about the hearth.

      .

      I carried out important shit in boxes;

      Let the rest behind to be thrown away.

      I hid and watched as they threw in the dumpster,

      A bed now wrought with chocolate and decay.

      As the memories flashed in to my brain,

      Of how we chose to spend that final day.

      (Of how) even on the best day of the end of my life,

      I ended up naked, chocolate-covered, curled up on your chest and crying,

      Begging you to stay.

      .

      The devil is a myth they tell believers;

      Hell prevents their chasing earthly dreams.

      I will not go to Heaven, and there is no Great Receiver

      Who will comfort me and silence my screams.

      There is no purgatory in the ether;

      The earth is this one act’s final scene.

      Fittingly, the water isn’t beautiful here either.

      It’s choppy, warm, and a putrid shade of green.

      .

      Someone use my hands to write a sonnet.

      Someone use my eyes to see a better day.

      Someone use my legs to climb a mountain;

      Use my tongue to find the words to say.

      They’ll use my lungs to feel the oxygen.

      Use my kidney when theirs is in decay.

      They’ll use my heart to feel in love again.

      I’ll rest easier that way.

      10 votes
    2. [Kind Words] moonlight masochist\

      I keep on my journey when the world's asleep, searching you out, like a bewildered sheep. If you'll come to my aid when you see me- with my knees bleeding red on these cobblestone streets. It must...

      I keep on my journey when the world's asleep,

      searching you out, like a bewildered sheep.

      If you'll come to my aid when you see me-

      with my knees bleeding red on these cobblestone streets.

      It must be the price of my earthly sin,

      that I've no food or water for nourishment

      that I crawl alone, in the dark, hoping.

      I am the moonlight masochist.

      ..

      So hear me cry out your name, whoever you are.

      Bring me the moon, and make me your star.

      Protect me like mountains and be my guard.

      Help me sleep sound when the noise is harsh.

      Be the hearth for my fire; the warmth for my heart.

      Get me into a home, and out of the bars.

      Can you hear my infantile, crying heart -

      My moonlight masochist matriarch.

      ..

      I cough as I choke on the poisoned air.

      No one around who seems to care -

      Save for two beady eyes who approach and glare,

      a thin coyote with a hungry stare.

      I only hear howls in monotone

      as two other dogs come sniff my throat

      But at least when they carry off my bones,

      I can kinda say I never died alone.

      ..

      Hear me cry out your name, whoever you are.

      Bring me the moon, and make me your star.

      Protect me like mountains and be my guard.

      Help me sleep sound when the noise is harsh.

      Be the hearth for my fire; the warmth for my heart.

      Get me into a home, and out of the bars.

      Can you hear my infantile, crying heart -

      My moonlight masochist matriarch.

      7 votes
    3. hey i have a question

      it's kinda silly kinda nothing but i was thinkin kinda wondering hey. if i asked. would you pick the loose string from my sweater bring a blanket in cloudy weather go with me on an adventure give...

      it's kinda silly

      kinda nothing

      but i was thinkin

      kinda wondering

      hey.

      if i asked.

      would you pick the loose string from my sweater

      bring a blanket in cloudy weather

      go with me on an adventure

      give a little hug, a little pressure

      would you grab a little snack

      put my favorite towel on the rack

      hear me sing, and try not to laugh

      or light a blunt, hit twice, and pass

      help me dye my hair

      tell me i look cute in underwear

      text me just to say you're there

      snap your cookie just to share

      or rub my neck soft when it hurts

      tell my i've a way with words

      walk to the park when wind's absurd

      just to sip a tea and watch the birds

      tell me that you like my lips

      pick me clothes out for a trip

      head to the lake to skinny dip

      and blush a bit because you like my hips

      could you

      sweat with me at the gym

      fill our popcorn to the brim

      say that this shirt makes me look slim

      and maybe love me limb from limb

      instead of him

      .

      .

      .

      18 votes
    4. boats. (or, Kintsugi Bitch.)

      I was a kintsugi bitch A dull, forgotten, broken pot And then you fixed me up . You lined me with your own dweomercrafted brand of gold Lac, Mel, et Saccharum . And when you’d starve me for...

      I was a kintsugi bitch

      A dull, forgotten, broken pot

      And then you fixed me up

      .

      You lined me with your own

      dweomercrafted brand of gold

      Lac, Mel, et Saccharum

      .

      And when you’d starve me for attention,

      Fed me more from your breast

      Til you filled me up

      .

      And then I’d look you in the eyes

      Sugar broiling in the stomach

      Am I pretty now

      ..

      Lost, full, and quite ignored

      When you had leapt onto the floor

      And said we’ve got to go

      .

      I grabbed your hand and followed blind

      My stomach churned I lagged behind

      You were the love I know

      .

      You said we’re going to the sea

      My dear you’ll spend a life with me

      We’ll make the waves a home

      .

      And I smiled ear to ear

      Cheeks were blushing like a deer

      Am I pretty now

      ..

      And then we made it to the bay

      quickly climbed into a boat

      They never have to know

      .

      We headed south for centuries

      They cannot take the memories

      I never hunger now

      .

      And after weeks of solitude

      A stranger came into the view

      There was another boat

      .

      My stomach burned, concerned,

      Not a soul had stood astern

      You produced a rope

      ..

      You gave a gentle kiss

      And slid the twine across my wrists

      And tied them into knots

      Dipped my legs into the water

      Either hand tied either helm

      Stretched into a cross

      I looked up at you in fear

      Just to see you’ve disappeared

      I started crying out.

      My stomach burned under the water

      And the sun was getting hotter

      And I’m all alone.

      I pleased come to feed me

      Don’t leave me weak, depleting

      I got no response.

      The fish were getting curious

      Flies buzzed something furious

      They knew what I did not

      That if you leave out milk and honey

      In the heat, in weather sunny,

      It’ll start to rot.

      .

      Months had passed in sickly motion

      Head leaned back, my eyes were open

      I died long ago.

      The bugs ate at my open mouth

      My skin was yellow, wrought with drought

      My throat housed a mold

      The waters smelled of sulfate

      As the serpents ate my stomach ache

      My blood has washed away

      The rope gave up on hope and

      Threw my purple, molten corpse into the ocean

      Am I pretty now?

      .

      .

      .

      5 votes
    5. angel (short poem)

      i have no idea where i am who i have been i have the slightest glimpse into the present a wavering image of a time long past my soul sits on siain heights above the fish and birds where we know...

      i have no idea where i am
      who i have been
      i have the slightest glimpse into the present
      a wavering image of a time long past
      my soul sits on siain heights
      above the fish and birds
      where we know endless comfort
      and a burning desire for wisdom
      this version, far away from the peaks
      that I am so accustomed to;
      yet drawn to the body of man,
      who screams in agony as he is raised to the heavens.

      4 votes
    6. metaphysical sigh.

      one day i will die one day so will you. the pictures on the wall will end up in the trash or old and tattered in an attic. our greatest of great-grandkids won't know our faces or how deeply we...

      one day

      i will die

      one day

      so will you.

      the pictures on the wall

      will end up in the trash

      or old and tattered

      in an attic.

      our greatest of great-grandkids

      won't know our faces or

      how deeply we were saddened

      to never see them grow

      to never learn the world they know

      to never speak their modern language

      or watch the trees around them

      grow.

      for we'll be dead in the ground

      and we'll never hear a sound

      for what comes next ain't only silence

      it ain't blood and it ain't violence

      it just

      ain't.

      so for now we're killing time perhaps

      we'll get laid or

      learn to paint.

      but in the end, it all goes out

      into the trash

      into the dust

      and rest assured

      into the ground.

      .

      if you choose to abuse me

      i'd rather hear threats for ever than

      hear no sound.

      because if you're still here to hurt me

      i can say that someone

      stuck around.

      .

      .

      .

      before i'm buried in the ground.

      9 votes
    7. Eldritch Love.

      Longest piece to date? Last night I saw a beast four different heads with blackened eyes. Not black in metaphor, but from the blood that dried inside. Each of seven legs was mangled and the beast...

      Longest piece to date?

      Last night I saw a beast

      four different heads with blackened eyes.

      Not black in metaphor, but from

      the blood that dried inside.

      Each of seven legs was mangled

      and the beast was blind

      but she could fly.

      .

      Once upon a night so dreary,

      and so dreadful I

      came across a weathered bar

      a woman stood inside.

      She sat me at a table, there was

      not a soul in sight

      but I felt fine.

      .

      Then she brought a glass of dark with

      something new inside.

      Leaned in close and whispered to me

      "Baby, close your eyes."

      I parted my lips and drank as

      her hand guided mine.

      My guard resigned.

      .

      She said "I know a place where you can

      truly feel alive.

      Each one of your problems fall

      defenseless by your side."

      And she wrapped her arms around me

      I contently sighed

      as she took flight.


      Her wretched and misshapen legs

      held me close to her chest.

      She let out her warning cries

      i inhaled every breath.

      Her claws were creeping out I

      fell upon them like a bed.

      I laid to rest.

      .

      I fell into a home so oddly

      shallow and recessed.

      The walls were made of rock,

      a water drop fell on my head.

      There was no single light,

      the ceiling lowered as she led

      me to her den.

      .

      As I looked around the room birthed

      questions in my head.

      So opposite the warmth that she

      had first on me impressed...

      She stroked my cheek, claws on my chin

      my heart fluttered, digressed.

      I was possessed.

      .

      She laid me on the floor and stood with

      five legs for each end.

      One aside my head and feet

      another at my hands.

      Then she gently laid a blanket

      down over my head,

      "Shall we commence?"


      I still feel it so vividly

      each night I fall asleep,

      the fused infatuated fear I felt

      at a monster's feet,

      when that heinous eldritch horror

      drained my blood from me,

      took me for libation, prayed a tithe

      she poured me out.

      Her heart could call the kettle as it,

      too, went black in drought

      She bore her fangs and lowered,

      took my body in her mouth.

      She then carried me cliffside, like a dog

      she threw me down.

      My corpse then fell so far, on

      impact, no audible sound.

      The final earthly thing I heard,

      her shriek, "The Gods are proud."


      Now upon each night so dreary, she

      crawls out to find

      a source of poor, defenseless blood

      that she can sacrifice.

      She'll lure them in with gentle kisses

      and sapphire eyes.

      We all will die.

      Epilogue.

      On my way to death, I was met

      with a choice instead.

      I could end my life or help

      ensure the gods were fed.

      In the heat of fear and pain I

      then nodded my head.

      The halls of purgatory filled with

      screams and smells of death,

      as my eyes dried from the inside

      and I then begat

      five extra legs.

      6 votes
    8. 12:08

      So what’s the deal with offices, amirite? What if we gave a building full of adults enough money to get by. Oh, and also they have to drive 30-60 minutes to get here. And that time they spend on...

      So what’s the deal with offices, amirite?

      What if we gave a building full of adults enough money to get by. Oh, and also they have to drive 30-60 minutes to get here. And that time they spend on the way here? Yeah what if they just gave us that for free, and we made them pay for parking!

      I know, I know, fantastic right? But listen, it’s not over yet. What if we also made the work pointlessly constrained to a particular 8-hour block in the day, five days a week so that they never have any personal time, even though this is all work they could get done in four hours a day and is fully capable of being completed on their own?

      Fabulous!

      ——

      So yeah, I don’t have free time. That means I’ve got a few half-ass pieces that I’ve been wanting to finish up for awhile.

      Apparently bars are open today, so I’m gonna get sauced and get to it. Prepare for a small dump today. (Also I got some dummy minor news imma share in another post. Stay tuned if you want. Or don’t ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ all’s well.

      Anyway here’s that piece now.

      ——-

      I remember that time I forgot your

      birthday

      And that time was today

      At 12:08 in the morning

      And for a moment

      I felt great.

      .

      My dear that was the first sign

      That you were

      Slipping on out of my mind

      Today I’m sober in the morning

      Feelin okay.

      .

      Well well-butrin what a surprise

      When it done

      Come on back to my mind

      Now it’s 12:09 in the morning

      And ain’t shit changed.

      .

      And in those 60 seconds

      Girl I swear

      I learned a lesson -

      Depression is a woman

      With your name.

      10 votes
    9. fotózás

      fotózás i wonder what it must be like to remember your life. i wonder what it must be like to record it with a flash. i wonder what it must be like to pass those memories down. i wonder what it...

      fotózás

      i wonder what it must be like
      to remember your life.

      i wonder what it must be like
      to record it with a flash.

      i wonder what it must be like
      to pass those memories down.

      i wonder what it must be like
      to be normal like that.

      6 votes
    10. nyáj

      nyáj in the shadows of a great unrest stand hallowed halls yet undisturbed by collapse. to be untouched by revolution is a lucky fate for a place like this— so stable in lives and yet always...

      nyáj

      in the shadows of a great unrest
      stand hallowed halls
      yet undisturbed by
      collapse.


      to be untouched by
      revolution
      is a lucky fate
      for a place like this—
      so stable in lives
      and yet
      always received
      with such hostility.

      oh, to be a church—
      a great meeting hall
      for those of
      the faith—
      is to be us,
      the people of this place
      who dare to
      keep their fire alive.

      we are but a
      little congregation,
      coming together
      once in awhile.
      giving praise to
      what had been;
      remembering what
      our time had lost.

      we bear upon our weary backs
      a legacy
      and hope one day
      to restore it.

      but
      we must rest now,
      and resign to our dreams
      what could be again.

      5 votes
    11. bűnös & fáj

      i intended to actually post these like three days ago but that didn't happen because it has to be super fucking late for me to even want to post these and unfortunately they've now aged...

      i intended to actually post these like three days ago but that didn't happen because it has to be super fucking late for me to even want to post these and unfortunately they've now aged sufficiently that i categorize them firmly in the "intensely mediocre" column with everything i ever do. unfortunate, tbh. anyways here's stuff:

      bűnös

      UP AGAINST THE WALL, MOTHERFUCKER—
      or i'll shatter your bones
      and crush your heart—
      to dance with me is to dance
      a fine line that wrenches two worlds apart

      for on one side there is a hall of saints—
      on the other
      the brimstone of hell—
      and to stay on the side of the hall of saints
      is something you'd best do well.

      and brave souls that dare toe the line—
      that cross it
      are mighty thin—
      and their ranks are made of anarchists
      who commit most grievous sin.

      UP AGAINST THE WALL, MOTHERFUCKER—
      state your allegiance
      to the vaunted line—
      or soon you too shall join the ranks
      of those who deserve malign.


      fáj

      when i was seventeen
      the panic attacks began.
      the nightmares.
      the violence. the violence. the violence.

      violence is a funny little thing—
      insidious, slithering in through one grate
      and out the other.
      it always begins with little things,
      little fantasies in one ear and out the other.
      dreams here and there, manufacturing terror and hurt.
      invasive thoughts, marching to an intensifying drumbeat.
      one offs.

      it's not normal to
      want to hurt so bad.
      it's not normal to
      want to cut yourself everywhere,
      is it?
      to feel those feelings,
      to bear them like a cross shackled on your back?
      to wish some days you could cut to the bone
      even though you're afraid of blood?
      to mutilate yourself until you can't feel anymore
      even though you know those feelings are irrational?
      to wish you could die violently, publicly
      even though you're afraid of death?

      violence isn't a very funny little thing—
      terrifying, inescapable and ever recurring
      one night after the other.
      it was the little things once,
      the little fantasies that used to be but now
      consume the dreams, the
      waking thoughts, becoming a great crescendo.
      every day.

      when i was nineteen
      the panic attacks were normal.
      the nightmares.
      the violence.

      12 votes
    12. Burnt!

      Burnt! You embraced me with your apple-pie grin as I tumbled through the door caked in sun, and the larks and the orioles who titter their King George behind us are snuffed with the slam of the...

      Burnt!

      You embraced me with your apple-pie grin
      as I tumbled through the door caked in sun,
      and the larks and the orioles who titter their King George
      behind us are snuffed with the slam of the castle gate.
      We are alone in the fragrant silence of our shared universe,
      your heartbeat against my cheek nuzzles
      like the murmur of some public radio presenter.
      I float along helplessly like a kitten held by its scruff
      until the slasher-scream of a Janet Leigh smoke detector,
      brutally gored by the twirling swirling aerial dancers,
      beckons you away to some Burning of Washington, 1814,
      its desolation likewise impeded by a timely sprinkle.
      In the black ash-pile is the monomania of the Cosmos,
      circling like a hyena for any vulnerability
      to consume everything it touches
      so that we all might become dark and vacuous like it.
      The cosmos and its baggage are swept away,
      its might and vastness no match for a love as true as ours.

      This was my attempt at writing a poem in the style of Pamela Miller, a feminist and often zany poet from my native Chicago.

      Please let me know what you think.

      11 votes
    13. lunch date. (the love poem.)

      Today I found a girl Who was pretty nice To me. She made me stop and talk And rest and breathe. She said your stomach growls, Your legs Are weak. How’d you like to come And sit With me? . And my...

      Today I found a girl

      Who was pretty nice

      To me.

      She made me stop and talk

      And rest

      and breathe.

      She said your stomach growls,

      Your legs

      Are weak.

      How’d you like to come

      And sit

      With me?

      .

      And my how time it flew

      And passed

      Us by.

      Lunch turned into tea

      Turned in-

      to night.

      The way her body curved

      It shaped

      My mind.

      And then her laugh,

      Her smile,

      Her eyes.

      .

      Would you mind if I stayed

      For an hour or two

      Or three?

      We could sit and talk

      And laugh

      And crawl between the sheets.

      And maybe I can stay the night

      Or two

      Or three?

      And you’ll hold onto me.

      And we can spend forever

      Cus talk

      Is cheap.

      And maybe nights will

      Slowly carve a curve and crash on

      Into weeks.

      Maybe we’ll be cuddled

      On the couch or sipping

      Sex on the beach

      Maybe I could stay

      For life, just

      You, and me.

      9 votes
    14. Wild Turkey 101

      i got fire in my blood Wild Turkey and the nicotine might just call my doctor have him put me on amphetamines driving past the memories i'm pushing on 100 speed crossing single-white lines with a...

      i got fire in my blood

      Wild Turkey and the nicotine

      might just call my doctor

      have him put me on amphetamines

      driving past the memories

      i'm pushing on 100 speed

      crossing single-white lines

      with a blade til my bones weak.

      cold-brew hipster

      gothboi fantasies

      hard to think straight when

      my thoughts are attacking me

      here i let the voices out

      inner demons writing rhapsodies

      before i go and swing from

      a noose and a dramatic tree

      .

      can't decide what i want between

      freedom and consistency

      i say i want it done

      but i think i want her missing me

      last week i bought a gun*

      this week i went to therapy

      when will i be free from all the

      thermo-manic tendencies?

      .

      drowning in my bed

      breathing wild turkey

      i couldn't feel if i were dead,

      but i like the way she hurts me

      i've come to know the pain

      it's like a second home to me

      liquor novocaine

      im falling from autonomy.

      if mecca was a bedroom

      girl you were a God to me

      and laying here alone is

      a wicked act of blasphemy.

      never knew you were a snake

      feeding hate from an apple tree

      I'll chop it down, and build a tomb

      so you can hold me,

      as an effigy

      (* didnt actually buy a gun. me no like. literally 0 plans to.)

      7 votes
    15. the law of averages (fuck math)

      short one. wrote it sober, so i couldn't (didn't?) really expand on it. either way, just bought a bottle for the first time since shit happened but i don't plan on going too crazy this time. then...

      short one. wrote it sober, so i couldn't (didn't?) really expand on it.

      either way, just bought a bottle for the first time since shit happened but i don't plan on going too crazy this time.

      then again, do i plan half the shit i do? or am i just constantly fumbling my way up through life.

      either way here's some shit about math.

      enjoy.

      You said I was the one

      But that was only when you managed

      To get some rest, and breathe, and

      Keep yourself from going rabid

      But must of the time you

      Wore your claws out like a savage

      So if we’re being honest I‘m the

      .08 on average.

      9 votes
    16. űrrepülés.

      i'm bored and entirely too fucking tired to still be up, so here's a thing i wrote in a little burst like an hour ago. see also enikő, the considerably longer weird shit i wrote in a similar...

      i'm bored and entirely too fucking tired to still be up, so here's a thing i wrote in a little burst like an hour ago. see also enikő, the considerably longer weird shit i wrote in a similar burst.

      I. űrrepülés
      having once been the dreamer of many things,
      having once been an eternal creator,
      having seen the birth of great star systems and galaxies
      and life itself
      only to be snuffed out
      with ignominy
      i feel compelled to explain why i too must
      inevitably follow them

      hurt
      is a funny little word. it seems so easy to come
      to a common agreement on what it means and yet,
      if i told you it hurt
      would you really understand that?

      would you understand the feeling
      of hopelessness,
      the vast indignities of having to see
      your every piece of art,
      your life's work
      snuffed out
      like the stars?

      II. űrlény
      you can't play god
      with the people in your life,
      but that never stopped me from trying,
      from creating those great star systems
      that people care about.
      from creating life where there is none.

      and that never stopped me from failing,
      and the stars becoming great cataclysms—
      black holes destroying the life around them
      without regard for its beauty.

      you might say it is callous
      to try to move the heavens and the earth
      and to die when they don't arrange the right way,
      but,
      i would rather die than be that hurt person again
      watching the stars go out one by one.

      7 votes
    17. i woke up with a headache and found this in my notes. (the coffin song)

      In the shadows Like a ghost you hide In the single most foreign Corners of my mind Therapy and pills still Can’t subside the angelic choir Of your pretty lies Promises you made, The bones I broke...

      In the shadows

      Like a ghost you hide

      In the single most foreign

      Corners of my mind

      Therapy and pills still

      Can’t subside the angelic choir

      Of your pretty lies

      Promises you made,

      The bones I broke

      You once took my breath

      And now I choke

      Jesus let me breathe

      Is there hope for me?

      .

      Now I desire

      The obscure

      All that reminds

      Of being yours

      Your oils, poison

      My waters, pure

      Your love is cancer

      There is no cure.

      .

      I watched my grandfather take his final breaths as he kissed my head and you held my hand. Not two months later you foresaw our end, and decided not to keep me, even as a friend.

      And now you’re off, marriage in the plans. I pray your time falls like the sand and hits the bottom of every glass as fast as it can.

      I have no home. I’m lost and cold. You promised me a home would grow. We got a dog, and had planned for more. Mouth of this world, a fish at shore you took my breath and killed me slow.

      I’m suicidal, I have no hope. I’ve not a gun, don’t have a rope. The only reason I’ve not a note, I’d end it all, I’d end it all.


      I just want to feel pretty.

      Pretty loved and pretty free

      But for now I keep to getting

      Pretty drunk, it isn’t cheap

      But I can afford it/‘s kinda sweet

      Too bad you’re not round

      To drink with me.

      I’d fill the bottle

      We’d watch the office

      Instead I scar

      Until I am solid

      An ugly rock

      A useless object

      I’ll break my stones

      And build a coffin

      And die in your name

      Die in your name.

      11 votes
    18. my therapist won't return my calls (lmfao fuck me)

      tw: self-harm; suicide; lost love. i hit my cigarette like an abuser hits her wife because i'm a fucking coward to afraid to take his life i've felt love before i beg it through the strife but i...

      tw: self-harm; suicide; lost love.

      i hit my cigarette

      like an abuser hits her wife

      because i'm a fucking coward

      to afraid to take his life

      i've felt love before

      i beg it through the strife

      but i only find a heart

      at the wrong side of a blunt and useless knife

      .

      and it's only mine

      at least there's proof

      that i can feel

      when blood protrudes.

      but that's not "work appropriate"

      so i get tattoos

      what a shame i can't get paid to die.

      12 votes
    19. haha this shit’s not working (a poem)

      i got a job i got on meds i got a car still wanting death. still here at night alone in my bed still hear her voice ring in my head “why do you look like i abused you?” . i bought a bottle i...

      i got a job

      i got on meds

      i got a car

      still wanting death.

      still here at night

      alone in my bed

      still hear her voice

      ring in my head

      “why do you look like i abused you?”

      .

      i bought a bottle

      i bought some cards

      can’t kill my thoughts

      my god it’s hard

      just make it stop

      “i don’t think i love you anymore.”

      .

      anxiety’s

      taken over me

      every interaction

      i worry

      did i act weird?

      what do they think?

      i guarantee

      they laugh at me

      can’t beat it all

      can’t bear it all.

      .

      .

      .

      .

      .

      .

      .
      .

      .

      don’t want to live

      don’t want to die

      i fantasize

      (that) it’ll be alright

      she’ll cuddle close

      and hold me night

      and pet my head

      and kill the fright

      i can’t escape

      don’t want to fight

      god let me die

      god let me die

      8 votes
    20. I just want to feel pretty.

      Pretty. Pretty good. Pretty cool. Pretty smart. Pretty cute. Pretty kind. Pretty eyes. Pretty warm. Pretty witty. Pretty artistic. Pretty talented. Pretty cultured. Pretty traveled. Pretty-faced....
      Pretty.

      Pretty good.

      Pretty cool.

      Pretty smart.

      Pretty cute.

      Pretty kind.

      Pretty eyes.

      Pretty warm.

      Pretty witty.

      Pretty artistic.

      Pretty talented.

      Pretty cultured.

      Pretty traveled.

      Pretty-faced.

      Pretty loved.

      But fuck me,

      Life’s pretty hard.

      12 votes
    21. Faerie Desperado

      Old legends what spoke of the fae Said “cold iron must be used in the fray” Bore great axe ‘gainst brownie The first chord made it flee ‘Twas Heavy Metal what had won this day

      6 votes
    22. [untitled]

      In Feudal Japan Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi Tea Party Ninja Assassin of Joy Bringer of His Mighty Wind Most Fetid of Stench For a Tidy Fee Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi Would Disturb Your Foes Piercing Defenses...

      In Feudal Japan
      Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi
      Tea Party Ninja


      Assassin of Joy
      Bringer of His Mighty Wind
      Most Fetid of Stench


      For a Tidy Fee
      Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi
      Would Disturb Your Foes


      Piercing Defenses
      Buddha Alone Knew His Tread
      In and Out, Unseen


      But Never Un-Smelt
      Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi
      Bearing Bowels Most Foul

      7 votes
    23. I don’t care for haiku

      “Haiku number 6, Alright, let’s get into it. Shit – I’m out of room.” edit: This is so not what I expected from the comments, and I'm very pleased with it. Have fun folks!

      22 votes
    24. Sisyphus.

      This isn’t what I want it to be. I’ve just had too many to care. Most days I don’t need any to not care. Yet I smile at them; servers and baristas. Try hard, smile, look happy. Maybe they’ll think...

      This isn’t what I want it to be. I’ve just had too many to care.

      Most days I don’t need any to not care.

      Yet I smile at them; servers and baristas.

      Try hard, smile, look happy.

      Maybe they’ll think you’re cute.

      You arrogant shit.

      “Sisyphus!

      Arrogant twat,

      How shall you pay

      For the sins you’ve wrought?

      I’ll hang your dreams

      In delicate swathe

      And leave you to work

      Forever for naught.

      .

      Sisyphus!

      You “god” among men

      I’ll number your days

      Count them by hand

      While you work, serve

      Slave to my end

      Your bones will strain

      And bend.

      .

      Sisyphus!

      You represent

      The whole that is wrong

      With the common man

      I’ll make you sweat,

      And I’ll make you beg

      (That) one day you’ll be free

      Again!”

      .

      Dear Sisyphus,

      I know your soul.

      Your struggle is mine

      And we share the goal

      That work, work, will come

      To an end

      And we’ll live again

      As free men.

      .

      Sisyphus,

      I hear your cries –

      Your yelps of pain

      In the dead of night

      When your muscles strain

      And your mind ain’t right

      My brother

      Your pain is mine!

      .

      Gods above –!

      Rescue me!

      .

      Sisyphus!

      I’m you, incarnate.

      I do my work and

      Sing my songs in

      Hope the gods will

      Hear my plea

      And one day

      set me free.

      .

      I am he!

      I aloud decree,

      assuming Sisyphus’

      identity.

      I live his plight,

      beg myself free

      that I’ll find a

      love for me.

      .

      SISYPHUS.

      THIS IS YOUR WROUGHT.

      YOUR MERIT THE PAIN,

      THIS DAY YOU’VE SOUGHT.

      YOU KNOW YOUR SINS

      AND NOW YOU BEG

      THAT YOU MAY FRESH BEGIN

      .

      THE GODS WILL REMEMBER

      SINS IN DECEMBER;

      DRAG YOUR SOUL DOWN

      DEEP TO THE EMBER.

      YOU AS THE KINDLE

      YOU AND YOUR KINFOLK

      FOREVER LIGHT OUR WAY.

      .

      SISYPHUS.

      “IMMACULATE.”

      WHAT A SHAME YOU’LL FIND

      COME END YOUR FATE

      WHEN THE TRUTH REVEALS

      YOUR LOVE IS FAKE.

      5 votes
    25. Lot's Job

      Oh god My God dost forsake me now? will you leave me to the perils of the world: the jaws that bite the claws that catch the frumious bandersnatch If, ever, in my suffering You notice somewhat of...

      Oh god
      My God

      dost forsake me now?
      will you leave me to the perils of the world:
      the jaws that bite
      the claws that catch
      the frumious bandersnatch

      If, ever, in my suffering
      You notice somewhat of that Grace:
      that Heavenly grace that lines the hearts of Holy men
      then
      grant me respite from my sins

      But
      if you do not
      worry not;
      I will obey.
      I will submit.
      I will endure.

      After all, that was
      Job's Lot.

      5 votes
    26. Boulder.

      are you so thirsty you would drink your own blood? do you feel so dirty that you bathe in wet mud? are you so alone that you make talk with yourself? are you so afraid that you, your own friends,...

      are you so thirsty

      you would drink your own blood?

      do you feel so dirty

      that you bathe in wet mud?

      are you so alone

      that you make talk with yourself?

      are you so afraid

      that you, your own friends, repel?

      .

      would you clean your skin with acid

      just to feel pure within your casket?

      would you feed on rot and mold

      in attempt to feed your soul?

      are you so cold, your blankets worn,

      you'd set your home ablaze for warmth?

      do you so fear the words you'll hear

      you'll drive metal spears into your ears?

      .

      are you so broken

      and without any help

      you would crack your own skull

      and find some gold to smelt

      in hopes you leave your corpse

      a void kintsugi shell?

      if not; then why, dear brain,

      do you want to burn yourself

      7 votes
    27. Mountaintops.

      Apologies for the spam. This may be the last one today; worst-case there's only one more coming. I see you, pretty home, with your couch, your floor, and kitchen. I see your sign there, hoping...

      Apologies for the spam. This may be the last one today; worst-case there's only one more coming.

      I see you, pretty home,

      with your couch, your floor, and kitchen.

      I see your sign there, hoping

      that I might call and visit.

      I want to tour your space

      and dream of how I'd fill it.

      What chair, what bed, what rug,

      and if it could home a kitten.

      .

      I can see a career

      that let's me furnish you to 9.

      I faintly feel a hope

      that one day you might be mine.

      I teeter on a plan

      that I could start, if energized

      that would lead me to you

      if I could try, and all went right.

      .

      A fireplace in cold,

      you'd stay lit, always, in orange.

      the warmest of colors

      keeps my mind free of contortion.

      Your firm, solid structure

      Keeps me confident, supported.

      What a beautiful dream;

      I hope, one day, to afford it.

      5 votes
    28. Pins and needles

      Pins and needles in my left leg. As I minimally move they acute and grave. I sleep, I shall wake up; what will it have been: a circumflex, or an umlaut?

      10 votes
    29. 500 Rubber Band Challenge!! [Not Clickbait] [Crazy] [Graphic]

      Is it self-inflating to label one's own work as graphic? (It is kinda graphic, clickbait title aside.) This doesn't even really capture the right imagery I was trying to go for. Might just have to...

      Is it self-inflating to label one's own work as graphic? (It is kinda graphic, clickbait title aside.)

      This doesn't even really capture the right imagery I was trying to go for.

      Might just have to re-write this idea into a completely different piece, I'm not sure. (mfw literally "felt creative idk might delete later")

      The "ball" was supposed to really be a watermelon, because we've all seen that YouTube video where they explode a watermelon with rubber bands, but I didn't leave myself enough space to develop that transition from ball to melon properly. (Brand new sentence?)

      Why am I even posting this if I feel its unfinished?

      Who knows.

      Anyway let's get to the thing here it is vvvvvvvvv

      slip.

      twist.

      smack.

      10 rubber bands on a ball

      all hold each other taut

      the inception of a toy

      that will quick be left for naught

      but brings a momentary joy - its only cause.

      .

      work.

      stoa.

      sweat.

      hustle on, man, that's your call

      you gotta love your boss.

      it's the struggle of a boy.

      that you never would be caught

      while feeling tears or overwhelm - lest you be mocked.

      .

      smack.

      stretch.

      strain.

      100 rubber bands slap

      starting slightly straining

      its appearances are coy,

      the ball slowly rolls to stop.

      picked up and bounced against the floor - it doesn't pop.

      .

      work.

      stare.

      grind.

      expectations are my all.

      you dream of taking off -

      escape makes you overjoyed

      daily grind just puts your off.

      your brain it strains against the skull - stressing nonstop.

      .

      pop

      waste

      spill

      500 rubber bands smack

      crushing and constraining

      such a carnage to enjoy

      they start rolling out the mops.

      the ball explodes onto the floor - as if a prop

      .

      rip

      slice

      tear.

      my fists crash into the walls.

      my skin, just rip it off

      rip out the bone, leave me void

      naked muscle growing moss.

      wrap rubber bands around my head until it pops.

      6 votes
    30. June.

      You know they’ve got poetry on Spotify? That’s some cool shit. Ended up following John Cooper Clarke into a rabbit hole of other British poets. Decided to bite and try writing a bit of poetry for...

      You know they’ve got poetry on Spotify? That’s some cool shit. Ended up following John Cooper Clarke into a rabbit hole of other British poets.

      Decided to bite and try writing a bit of poetry for poetry’s sake.

      Anyway. ‘Ere go. “June.”

      I thought your voice was music

      And your beauty - work of art.

      I found your jokes amusing,

      Ponygirl, a golden heart.

      Your company, a journey

      Which I never could depart

      I really felt I loved you,

      Well, I did once, at the start.

      .

      See, music can be different

      Some songs good, and others crap.

      Some begin melodically,

      Then get crashing in a snap.

      Starting subtle violins,

      Then it blares with metal scrap

      They lure you malevolent

      Some music is a trap.

      .

      Some artists Donatello,

      Others Jackson Pollock.

      Some art goes well with wine,

      Some turns you alcoholic.

      Some is deep and intricate,

      Some is purely bollocks

      Can’t call this a masterpiece

      I’m not sure what to call it.

      .

      Thought your lips were pure cuisine

      And your beauty - work of art.

      I never thought the kitchen

      Would have mold and rot at heart.

      The oven sent asunder

      All the counters ripped apart

      You’re a diner with one dish,

      And it’s a dry and sour tart.

      7 votes
    31. magmatic rock, is one of the three main rock types, the others being sedimentary and metamorphic.

      Light it up hit the stage hit the dance floor. Fight enough start a riot there's a chance for love to grow for the hate to transform Feeling these knots in my head am I deformed? . Feel like my...

      Light it up

      hit the stage

      hit the dance floor.

      Fight enough

      start a riot

      there's a chance for

      love to grow

      for the hate

      to transform

      Feeling these

      knots in my head

      am I deformed?

      .

      Feel like my

      head, my heart,

      a rock show.

      Is this peace

      or pain, I

      do not know.

      I can't close

      my eyes and

      the clock's slow

      Pray I'll

      kill myself

      in Chicago

      .

      My head pounds

      bass drum

      memories of,

      days when you

      and I meshed

      and we made love.

      Wish that I

      went and bought you

      all your makeup.

      Maybe some money's

      all we needed

      to makeup

      .

      Feel like my

      head, my heart,

      a rock show.

      Is this peace

      or pain, I

      do not know.

      I can't close

      my eyes and

      the clock's slow

      Pray I'll

      kill myself

      in Chicago

      .

      With hate your

      voice went shrill

      you went cold.

      Who's this girl

      beside me

      don't know.

      Wake up in

      the morning pain

      or comfort?

      All your screaming

      I wanna go

      Van Gogh

      .

      Feel like my

      head, my heart,

      a rock show.

      Is this peace

      or pain, I

      do not know.

      I can't close

      my eyes and

      the clock's slow

      Pray I'll

      kill myself

      in Chicago

      9 votes
    32. Hand to God

      Father God I've got a favor to ask of you. . It is said you can justify the hell I knew. . So now I raise my tired eyes to the morning blue. . God above, I've got a favor to ask of you. . If I...

      Father God

      I've got a favor

      to ask of you.

      .

      It is said

      you can justify

      the hell I knew.

      .

      So now I raise

      my tired eyes

      to the morning blue.

      .

      God above,

      I've got a favor

      to ask of you.

      .

      If I don't wake up

      dead in the morning

      could you stand by me

      if just for a moment

      give pause to the pain

      put a break to the moaning

      while I'm stuck in this mind

      and I just can't control it.

      .

      If you're gonna drag me out

      of my bed in the morning

      then I ask I wake in

      a place I feel at home and

      I can pour a little brown, light

      a green, and get to hoping

      that I'll find good work,

      good love, and consoling.

      .

      Ya Allah

      Ana mish aerif

      Ana riyeh feyn.

      .

      My head

      is clouded, dark

      and the sky is grey.

      .

      I've found

      I hate the sun,

      and dance in the rain.

      .

      And at night,

      I close my eyes,

      dream of the grave.

      .

      If you're gonna drag me out

      of my bed in the morning

      then I ask I wake in

      a place I feel at home and

      I can pour a little brown, light

      a green, and get to hoping

      that I'll find good work,

      good love, and consoling.

      8 votes
    33. "Masturbating to sadness"

      Life—what's life? half a second on the edge of happiness Life—what's life? half a second on the edge, in the shadow of Death Live life for death—what's the point? it's done before begun you can't...

      Life—what's life?
              half a second on the edge of happiness
      Life—what's life?
              half a second on the edge, in the shadow of Death
      Live life for death—what's the point?
              it's done before begun
              you can't outrun
                                                      forever
      Live life without death—what's the point?
              does it matter, does it matter?
              does it matter right now?
              if it matters right now, it can matter later; later matters more, 'cause there's a lot more later than now
      Live life with death—we get no choice
              but choose you carefully to stand:
                      on his shadowy side?
                      or his sunny side?
              both are fraught with peril
                or
                  do you dare to face him?

      12 votes
    34. Bishop The Musician

      <Insert intro explaining the lack of an intro.> raindrop on the tongue of the parched, de- flated beach ball in the hands of the young, lit cig 'tween the fingers of a nun, one sin's never gonna... <Insert intro explaining the lack of an intro.>
      raindrop

      on the tongue

      of the parched, de-

      flated beach ball

      in the hands of the young, lit

      cig 'tween the fingers

      of a nun,

      one sin's never gonna be enough

      fuck the prose

      words will never be enough.

      the writing's on the walls

      but you can't read it

      you aren't here

      i need a sign you

      can't ignore or a call

      you're bound to hear

      .

      the words just aren't enough

      on their own

      to pull my heart strings

      i can't find peace

      without my blood

      on guitar strings.

      .

      the words are going cold

      the poetry has not a heartbeat.

      i need to take the stage

      and pray to god that they can't see me.

      8 votes
    35. Lakeside Property

      Not sure why I always feel the need to preface these with something. Feels weird not to. As if I'm just "Hey chump, here's a poem, read it." Y'all hear that Lil Nas X track "Old Town Road" yet?...

      Not sure why I always feel the need to preface these with something.

      Feels weird not to. As if I'm just "Hey chump, here's a poem, read it."

      Y'all hear that Lil Nas X track "Old Town Road" yet? Never knew I needed to hear Billy Ray Cyrus on a trap beat until it happened.

      If that blends your smoothie, you might also like "Like A Farmer" x Lil Tracy ft. Lil Uzi Vert

      I like this whole hickhop wave coming through. Cool to see people playing around with genre-bending.

      For all those "that's not real country" folk, here's some Cody Jinks and some Brown Bird (technically blues I think, fight me.)

      Anyway, here's the thing. Feel free to read it. If anyone here uses one of those e-reader speech things for the vision-impaired, how does this sound? Does the reader have any rhythm to it, or does it just feed you line after line?

      Alright closing out for real. Later.

      I thought something strange

      skeleton felt out the closet

      In the house, the paint

      kept peeling off the walls

      and on the bed, decay

      as the wood went rotten

      Never could build a house,

      made a life making coffins.

      .

      In the morn, I wake

      and the skies are grey and cloudy

      Turn to kiss my babe,

      is it love me or get off me

      and my head, it aches

      the anxiety is starting

      so I say fuck it all and I make me some coffee.

      .

      Lips on me -

      desire.

      Arsonist

      with a lighter.

      Feed my soul,

      make the heart burn.

      Where there's smoke

      there is fire.

      .

      An infant strand-

      ed out there in the snow

      Sh'said "Babe there's a chill,

      you'd better close the door."

      Close your rain-

      bow, there's no pot of gold.

      And there's no one to sing

      you any songs of your home.

      .

      Fill my art-

      eries with bourbon old

      Loverboy

      til I am dead and gone

      Rip off my skin

      and leave my body cold

      My son,

      the devil

      is a pretty blonde.

      .

      And I said

      Mama

      I’m tired.

      My hands shake

      My eyes burn.

      Hair’s thin

      Heart afire.

      My lovely little lover was a liar.

      .

      Closed the door,

      the hinge broke.

      No chimney

      house filled smoke.

      Scents arose

      of burnt mold.

      A lake of blood and

      guilt can't support a home.

      9 votes
    36. For now.

      Hi everyone. Hello to all the new faces who don't know my name - (or how out of character it is that there are capital letters in this post!) This isn't really for you - or for anyone in...

      Hi everyone.

      Hello to all the new faces who don't know my name - (or how out of character it is that there are capital letters in this post!) This isn't really for you - or for anyone in particular I guess; I just wanted to write something to those who have followed my work on here.

      So, you.

      Howdy.

      It's been a minute.

      I just wanted to give you all a quick update; let you know that I'm safe. I've had a few of you reach out to me since my last post. I hope I didn't scare anybody.

      For those interested - things... aren't all that better now, hahaha. Sorry.

      But the good news is, they're trending up in a really good way.

      I've decided to stop drinking for awhile; I figured that isn't really helping my cause at this point. I'll pick that back up when there's something worth celebrating, when I'm in better company, and when I'm back in control of myself.

      I've started getting a lot more interviews for work; shouldn't be long now until I have a position landed and I'm back to being a functioning adult.

      And uh - I started therapy. Been about a month now. I like my therapist, they're very sweet, very weird in a fun/eclectic kind of way. (My kinda person.) And that's been going well.

      In fact, that's part of this.

      It's not just Tildes I abandoned.

      I've let a lot of very important people to be fall to the wayside lately - total isolation. Tonight, I started calling them back, apologizing, letting them know what was going on. And that's gone well so far.

      Now I'm here doing the same for you.

      I don't know if I'll be back on Tildes all too frequently. There's a lot on here I might just need to let rest.

      So I just wanted to say that I'm here. I love you. I'm sorry. And, bye.

      For now.


      eyes crackle open

      half past three

      stomach on fire and

      my body feels meek

      i stumble out my chair

      and here the creak in my knees

      you're only in your twenties

      and you're living ninety

      .

      my head feels funny

      and i'm tired of the numbing

      and there's too much week

      at the end of my money

      a little bumblebee lost

      wishing for his honey

      beat my head against the hive

      until the world starts buzzing

      and it falls.

      .

      and i

      set

      foot

      down

      on that unpaved road

      step

      forward like an orphan

      on a search for a home

      walk

      forward hand to God

      if he answers my call

      honey (i'll) be

      leaving for now

      hope it won't be long

      .

      soul

      full of gravel and

      a heart made of gold

      imma

      face my music and

      play my song

      send

      me down to hell

      if it rights my wrongs

      honeybee

      i'm leaving for now

      hope it won't be long.

      15 votes
    37. A poem in honor of Lawrence Ferlinghetti's upcoming 100th birthday.

      #19 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti So rent a museum and see yourself in mirrors- In every room an exposition of a different phase in your life with all your figures and faces and pictures of all the...
                                                    #19 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
      

      So rent a museum
      and see yourself in mirrors-
      In every room an exposition
      of a different phase in your life
      with all your figures and faces
      and pictures of all the people who
      passed through you
      and all the scenes
      you passed through
      all the landscapes of living
      and longing and desiring
      and spending and getting
      and doing and dying
      and sighing and laughing and crying
      (what antic gesturing!)
      And walking through the house of yourself
      you climb again to all
      the rooms of youself
      full of the other lives & selves
      who passed through them
      Rooms rooms rooms
      piled up haphazard
      in the architecture of time
      And all the bodies clinging to each other
      or rushing to windows
      to break out of the room
      which they boxed themselves into
      All the people of your life
      in one house in the night
      all lights lit
      like a cruise ship at sea
      And you run up and down
      knocking on all the doors
      through which you hear
      all the once-familiar voices
      laughing or sobbing or singing
      And you run to the roof
      and look up to the mute night sky
      And in the wheeling template of stars
      see the faces of the figures
      of the lovely lovers who
      had once made time stand still
      now all fixed
      in their constellated relations
      motionless in time

      So that
      some day
      as time bends around
      to its beginning again
      you find them all again
      and yourself

      4 votes
    38. art is trash.

      hiiiiiii everybody guess who drunk for the first time this year ayeeeee we're back i love it i hate it i miss you how damned lazy is the poet who only ever writes. how wasted is the painter who...

      hiiiiiii everybody guess who drunk for the first time this year ayeeeee

      we're back

      i love it

      i hate it

      i miss you

      how damned lazy

      is the poet

      who only ever writes.

      how wasted

      is the painter

      who drowns out his lines.

      how atrophied

      the pianist

      who cannot bend the light

      if this is art then it isn't mine.

      .

      a screw

      driver is useless

      when nails

      are the nuisance

      an easel

      is pointless

      with verbally

      mindless rhymes.

      .

      to what length in an artist?

      if you cannot wield

      every edge of the

      toolbox right?

      .

      not every thought

      is at best

      through emo

      writings expressed

      kid, sometimes

      you have to

      know your lines.

      .

      to better outline your problems.

      (better outline your problems)

      better sketch out your issues

      (guarantee she don't miss you)

      better sculpt out the tissue

      and try to attend to

      the shit you

      can only rhyme.

      .

      what a waste of an artist.

      .

      what a waste of an artist.

      .

      you call your poems cathartic

      but that's your only

      medium, right?

      .

      you wanna be a God

      you better step up

      better learn to

      do your makeup

      hopefully you learn

      to draw her thighs.

      .

      better off dead otherwise.

      .

      if you're not the greatest it's a guise.

      ich lebe noch von dir

      so if i won't be remembered

      then by your God

      i should prolly' die.

      .

      what the fuck is an artist.

      .

      wjo is reallt an aritst.

      .

      you call your poems cathartic,

      but that's your only

      medium - right?

      13 votes
    39. fuck you.

      God put me at ease deliver me to peace. if you're above deliver me to love. there's not a sign you're months without a call. i begin to think you never cared at all. in winter breezes hang me from...

      God

      put me at ease

      deliver me to peace.

      if you're above

      deliver me to love.

      there's not a sign

      you're months without a call.

      i begin to think

      you never cared at all.

      in winter breezes

      hang me from the trees.

      god i'm sick of

      never feeling enough.

      make me crease and

      break me at my knees.

      tarot prophet guide me

      with your crystal ball.

      .

      read the names i've

      written in my skin.

      banish me to walk

      alone in cold.

      hit my face and tell me

      this is it.

      kill me, say you

      never cared at all

      .

      screaming in your car

      you said you'd call the cops

      if i don't take my seatbelt off

      on our way home and walk.

      .

      screaming in our home

      you'd always slam the doors

      and leave the silence ringing

      in the halls

      .

      alone in dark i wailed

      you didn't care.

      as you sat there on your phone

      and talked and talked.

      .

      always acting like

      i wasn't there.

      even asked me to pretend

      that we were not.

      .

      remember back in college

      when you made some friends

      and tried to make me hide,

      not show me off?

      .

      tried to tell them

      i was just a friend.

      and when i protested

      god you told me off.

      .

      but when i made you mad

      how mad you went.

      and appeared inside my room

      without consent.

      .

      i walked in and found you there

      sat at my desk.

      it should've ended there

      but i regressed.

      .

      i said we would grow past it

      never did.

      always made me second guess

      the life i live.

      .

      it's not my fault

      that you stayed home alone.

      why do i slash and cry and pray

      that you'll pick up the phone.

      .

      tell me why i love you

      when it's wrong.

      .

      .

      .

      tell me why i want you

      when you're gone.

      .

      .

      .

      i want you to ignore me,

      miss my calls.

      .

      .

      .

      if at least you'll speak

      to me at all.

      fuck you.

      i'm sorry.

      i love you.

      fuck you.

      fuck you too.

      12 votes
    40. A journey through love with Richard Brautigan

      so i've just recently learned about this guy, and his work is quickly becoming a favorite of mine. i'm admittedly crazy poorly-read (is that the antonym to well-read?) when it comes to... well,...

      so i've just recently learned about this guy, and his work is quickly becoming a favorite of mine.

      i'm admittedly crazy poorly-read (is that the antonym to well-read?) when it comes to...

      well, anything besides self-help books released up to "The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck" by Mark Manson.

      and his work has been concise and just fucking accurate enough for me to enjoy.

      so i present you all,

      a journey through love, with Richard Brautigan.


      -2

      Everybody wants to go to bed

      with everybody else, they're

      lined up for blocks, so I'll

      go to bed with you. They won't

      miss us.

      in this first stage, we see that little Richie's met himself someone special, and off they go arm in arm to live happily ever after.


      Romeo and Juliet

      If you will die for me,

      I will die for you

      and our graves will be like two lovers washing

      their clothes together

      in a laundromat

      If you will bring the soap

      I will bring the bleach.

      and here we see something that, personally, i found surprising from a poet who got his start in the 50s.

      this piece emulates the incendiary, passionate, limitless love that some of us have been lucky enough to experience in the early years of our lives. the love where it's the both of you against the world. the love where the most mundane tasks seem incredulous solely because they're done together. the love that i have only seemed to find in life, through trauma bonding.

      their love is powerful. their love is radiant.


      I Feel Horrible, She Doesn't

      I feel horrible. She doesn't

      love me and I wander around

      like a sewing machine

      that's just finished sewing

      a turd to a garbage can lid.

      their love is over.

      the crass yet poignant imagery somehow simultaneously flashing feelings of uselessness, self-loathing, and loss.

      you are here.


      Haiku Ambulance

      A piece of green pepper

      fell

      off the wooden salad bowl:

      so what?

      the sheer stoicism here is inspiring to me.

      this is the mindset that i want - and don't have the emotional energy to cultivate.

      were Brautigan still around and kickin' today, i'd buy the man a shot of the best whiskey i could get with $7 and thank him for emulating the exact mindset i want, need, and desire

      in four lines.

      it's simple - the green paper is a fraud, illusory. from afar or even from near with a quick glance - the green paper is another leafy green of the salad. a leaf of lettuce, a bit of cabbage. even if you press your face into the bowl and smell, the paper will smell of salad and nothing but.

      it falls onto the floor, you pick it up to throw it away. you notice the texture inapropos with more roughness, and frailty than a leaf of a vegetable. you test it - you tear it.

      it was paper.

      it was not the spinach you'd desired.

      it was not real.

      it was not what you wanted.

      regardless of the time you've spent preparing the salad, chopping your veg, blending your dressing, tossing it all, and fixing it for presentation,

      if you throw this paper out - it will be no loss, and your salad will only be better for it.

      a green piece of paper fell off the wooden salad bowl.

      so what?


      Love Poem

      the piece that brought Brautigan in to my attention in the first place.

      It's so nice

      to wake up in the morning

      all alone

      and not have to tell somebody

      you love them

      when you don't love them

      any more.

      resolve.

      clarity.

      peace.

      the earlier bleach has gone unsipped. she has come, she has gone. he has suffered, he has grown.

      and now, he is at peace.

      his world back to...

      normal.


      this has been a journey through love with Richard Brautigan.

      4 votes
    41. ganz allein Glühwein.

      I'VE GOT red wine nicotine fresh chocolate chip cookies the plaid heated blanket that keeps me cuddled up in the recliner that doubles as my bed. I'VE GOT red wine daydreams moving to a different...

      I'VE GOT

      red wine

      nicotine

      fresh chocolate chip cookies

      the plaid heated blanket that keeps me

      cuddled up in the recliner that doubles

      as my bed.

      I'VE GOT

      red wine

      daydreams

      moving to a different city with a different scene

      i wanna meet new friends,

      try codeine

      find love or find drugs to console me

      I'VE GOT

      red wine

      thin skin

      pink like your soft cheeks when they're sunkissed.

      haulover beach, you were naked

      on a trip,

      and you screamed, and you screamed, and i hate it.

      I'VE GOT

      red wine

      ain't shit

      except seven little boxes full of bullshit

      old love notes kissed with red lips

      seven boxes of evidence you didn't mean shit.

      I'VE GOT

      a lotta bit of lethargy

      all my energy drained.

      i remember the day where you looked at my eyes

      and you said "babe since you met me you don't look the same"

      you looked at the bags,

      (beat.)

      and you said "that was me"

      (beat.)

      and of course i dismissed it

      said babe don't be silly

      i envisioned us happy and said that "you make me complete."

      I'VE GOT

      red wine

      white lies.

      red wine.

      red wine.

      GOT.

      red wine

      no time.

      it's time.

      lifeline.

      6 votes
    42. gripthroat grapes.

      we met in a field i plucked a fruit from your veins you encouraged me to eat i exchanged with you a name. . i kept you close inside a jar and with time, you turned sour you encouraged i add water...

      we met in a field

      i plucked a fruit from your veins

      you encouraged me to eat

      i exchanged with you a name.

      .

      i kept you close inside a jar

      and with time, you turned sour

      you encouraged i add water

      lest it be the final hour.

      .

      my glass turned pink

      with the hue of your skin

      you explained - it's drink,

      you encouraged me to sip

      .

      i never knew beauty

      like your taste upon my lips

      you are my favorite poison

      and i have now, not a drip.

      8 votes
    43. normal.

      hey this is tildes so i should talk about code. i dont type each > for the markdown individually. got a tiny function i wrote that does it for me: https://repl.it/repls/HonoredRubberyProfessional...

      hey this is tildes so i should talk about code.

      i dont type each > for the markdown individually.

      got a tiny function i wrote that does it for me: https://repl.it/repls/HonoredRubberyProfessional

      so there's that for anyone who wants an easier time formatting their thing.

      stuff at the bottom. not necessarily inspo. just.

      yeah

      i just

      want to go back

      to normal.

      normal like in 2016

      when i had a little cash

      and spent it all

      on books, coffee, clothes, teenage shit

      i was nineteen

      we had yet to meet

      back to normal

      like the centuries

      where i would never be

      from the dawn of the earth

      up to the nineties.

      back to normal

      back to friends

      back to hobbies and dreams

      back to having endless things

      that i found exciting

      back to normal

      when i'd stay up a little late

      and fall asleep, be up at 8

      and make my coffee

      not living in the night,

      sleeping in the morning.

      .

      but the meds are all a hex,

      cyanide with side effects

      take this pill if you're depressed

      now youre a narcoleptic wreck

      and your car's a crumpled mess

      so momma drives you to your check-

      ups full of shit you never said

      like how you wanna quit - dead.

      because you say something she think

      is wrong you end up in the shrink

      with all the people with the bigger problems

      thrashing as they shriek

      and you wake up on a table

      see the warden of the clink

      shoving hands into your mouth

      tryna feed you what they think

      'll fix your fucking problems.

      hooked - benzodiazepines.

      and now you're mellow, now you're numb

      for now your skin'll cease to bleed

      and still you look around in envy

      pretty people - normalcy.

      .

      i gotta get out this house

      get back to normal

      maybe she can't find me there.

      maybe i can get a text

      or get some coffee

      breathe, not even care

      'bout if i'll turn a cursed corner

      see her curly golden hair,

      and have a flashback to the nights

      spend crying lonely in despair

      as she would sit, a room away

      sipping vodka in here chair

      taking snaps and scrolling insta

      for her modelling career

      and i would wail my soul would bleed

      praying that her heart would hear

      and she would get up, come and hold me

      stroke my hair like "mama's here."

      and i could breathe

      our love immortal

      i want nothing but a world

      where i am back in full control

      through death or breath

      just make me normal.


      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NB7RBZ1yGY

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w--D1S8SrCQ

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NO5JLdsNxSk | Lyrics

      8 votes
    44. reimagining the lyrics of "Andria" by La Dispute

      currently 7 hours into a 24 hour shift that will see me through to the end of this project. this song came on that helped me find catharsis when i last felt like this in 2014. coincidentally, i'd...

      currently 7 hours into a 24 hour shift that will see me through to the end of this project.

      this song came on that helped me find catharsis when i last felt like this in 2014.

      coincidentally, i'd just finished one of my few milestones in the project

      i could take a break if i wanted to.

      i could hear the words filling themselves in, treating the song like a template.

      decided i'd take a minute to "remix" or "cover" this song for how things are going this time around.

      here's the original.

      maybe give it a listen, then jump into this piece,

      out of words now.

      bishop


      [Verse 1]
      You still cross my mind from day to day
      And I mostly cry
      Still so set on finding out where we went wrong
      and why
      So I retrace our every step with a bloodwet knife
      Trying to figure out what your head thinks
      And my head just ain't what it used to be
      So I ask,

      ...what's the point anyway?

      [Verse 2]

      I remember bringing boxes up the stairs to your apartment
      Knowing love was slipping
      rapidly away
      I remember the skin of your forehead
      Your nose and your lips I'd always kiss when I was out of things to say
      You held my hand, and you would always promise me
      You'd promise me pretty things but I would never understand
      I remember when you said you didn't love me
      And I swear not a single force on earth could stop the trembling of my hand

      [Verse 3]
      I remember how you smiled through the smoke in a crowded little coffeehouse
      And laughed at all my jokes
      And I remember the way that you dressed
      While we wasted all the best of us in alcohol and sweat
      And I remember when I knew that you'd be leaving
      How I barely kept up breathing and I bet if I could to do it all again
      I'd feel the same pain
      I remember faded driving through the city in tears
      How I wept to god in fits, I've hated Texas ever since

      I've found it's true what people say
      That death and drugs can numb the pain
      And every single day I want to fade away, cus

      [Verse 4]
      I still remember independence tricked us
      And lead us helpless holding cash into a pit to be devoured
      I still remember how we held so strong to this
      Though we had never really settled on a way out
      I still remember your blank face
      And how we'd always find a way recommit the same mistakes
      I still dream that it would all come back together
      Just to fall apart again

      [Bridge]
      My dear
      I hear your voice in mine
      I've been alone here
      I've been alone here
      I've been afraid, my dear
      I've been afraid, my dear
      I've been at home here
      I've been at home here
      You've been away for years
      You've been away for years
      I've been alone
      I've been alone
      I've been alone
      I've been alone

      [Verse 5]
      I breathed your name into the air, I etched your name into me
      I felt my anger swelling, vision black, I can't see
      I held your name inside my heart but it got buried in my fear
      It tore the wiring of my brain, I did my best to keep it clear
      So dear, no matter how we part I hold you sweetly in my head
      And if I do not miss a part of you, a part of me is dead
      If I can't love you as a lover, I will love you in my death
      Anything to see you smile, keep you happy in my end.

      3 votes
    45. hello

      hi i'm bishop and i'm the guy you probly see inside your dreams who shows up for half a second then i morph into a sheep no wait im bishop im the guy who's in the back of that one photo that you...

      hi i'm bishop
      and i'm the guy you probly see
      inside your dreams
      who shows up for half a second
      then i morph into a sheep

      no wait im bishop
      im the guy who's in the back
      of that one photo that you
      took out by the beach in
      2018 out in cabo

      hold on, no, it's bishop
      it's the person that you messaged
      when you posted up on tumblr
      needing help with your depression

      i mean

      no

      wait

      i'm bishop!

      i mean

      i'm 1930s jazz superstar Cab Calloway.
      i don't really play many instruments
      but i can sing
      i'm a throat player

      hi my name is bishop
      and i'm actor Matthew Lillard
      hah like zoinks babe, i was shaggy
      let me take you out to dinner

      but then she turned to me
      all worriedly
      i asked her "whats the problem b?"
      she said "i'm not some pretty girl,
      i'm bishop! i'm your coffee!"

      and i looked around like what the hell
      and down onto my bed i fell
      the pillow was my face
      i was the bottles on the shelf

      hi there pal, my name is bishop!
      wait i lied it's Captain Morgan!
      don't you love the way i
      can't walk straight in my own Jordans
      (that were actually pretty expensive shoes, like who pays that much for shoes? i mean i get the aesthetic and all i have some jackets that were kinda expensive but like

      ...dude.)

      (cough)

      hi my name is bishop
      but i'm really Roddy Piper
      and i'm feelin hella Rowdy cus my
      ex she made my life hurt

      i mean wait
      no

      i'm Bert Kreischer!
      i'm im a machine!
      and i'm a funny guy!
      i'm hella rich, i'll slide some money by
      if you can sing me beddie-bye

      no fuck
      i'm Tyler Perry
      i make really funny movies
      and i think you'd probly like me
      if you ever really knew me

      i mean

      im bishop
      and i eat a lot of fruit
      but i still cant seem to get rid
      of my stomach
      i've considered "fasting" before and i used to but i like to cook too much so i end up like not eating for a day and then cooking a lot (like a lot) and really enjoying that meal and the whole process but it kinda nullifies the whole thing.

      i'm gordon ramsay.

      i'm

      im chef Joel Robuchon and i have hella Michelin Stars

      and my heart burns

      i mean fuck i ate too much i'm

      im'm larry the cable guy, do you have heartburn? i could

      *sigh* sell you

      Prilosec

      i'm bishop

      i'm

      ....

      anyone but me.

      cheers

      10 votes
    46. goth sex and human sacrifice. [nsfw]

      y'already know who it is bishop - little punk bitch. 's go. no need to comment or whatever. just yelling at the internet today. Xes On My Eyes For Life. tw: self-harm/suicide/alcohol/drugs startin...

      y'already know who it is
      bishop - little punk bitch.

      's go. no need to comment or whatever. just yelling at the internet today.

      Xes On My Eyes For Life.

      tw: self-harm/suicide/alcohol/drugs


      startin off the year all
      alone inside my bedroom
      lookin back in the past
      what i been through
      how you'd pet my hair,
      cuddle close in my bedroom
      now ain't nothin but depressive
      air in the bedroom
      look what i get up to
      xans and the mushrooms
      body don't have much room
      left for me to love you
      it pushes all the air out
      in case you maybe come thru
      you took all of my breath out
      and i can't even speak you

      name into the air
      with no fingers in my hair
      sippin whiskey in my chair
      i can see your shadows here
      you told me "lay it bare, give
      your heart and boy i swear"
      from now until the day you die
      i promise i'll be there."

      now i'm broken down
      and wearing out
      your voice in my head
      get it out
      i'm gettin up and pullin down
      the liquor off the shelf

      my empty bed is
      screaming out
      i'm praying that you'll
      hear me while
      i'm masturbating moaning out
      "I'm gonna kill myself."

      Прости меня,
      Пожалуйста
      now is my time
      убей меня
      princess - зайчик
      i can't take it
      baphometic
      angel - wrists slit

      cus i'm broken down
      and wearing out
      i know the truth you
      hate me now
      i'm gettin up and pullin down
      the liquor off the shelf

      my empty bed is
      screaming out
      i'm praying that you'll
      hear me while
      i'm masturbating moaning out
      "I'm gonna kill myself."

      7 votes
    47. So Spoke Zarathustra

      BISHOP NEHM MICH UNTER - UNTERGANG 2019 Xes on my eyes for life seems like some people 'roudn here tdont know that bishop an emo rapper on the comeup 👀 so lemme introduce myself bonjour im bishop....

      BISHOP NEHM MICH UNTER - UNTERGANG 2019

      Xes on my eyes for life

      seems like some people 'roudn here tdont know that bishop an emo rapper on the comeup 👀

      so lemme introduce myself

      bonjour

      im bishop.

      i write hella poetry, and i just got a midi board and a expensive-ass course on Logic Pro X so imma learn how to produce as well.

      imma kind, lighthearted fella, but poetry is my muse to get the dark shit off my chest

      and rap is the zeitgeist now so i dont gotta feel ashamed of that anymore lmao

      i sold my soul for love and cash, but that keeps biting back

      we'll see how siht plays out

      .

      i love comments, and always peep my inspo tracks or we cant be friends

      (jk but srsly)

      much love, spread positiv y, all of that shit,

      bishop


      ps i also cook a lot so if u hungry for some plants hmu

      peep tha inspo at the bottom


      a wise man once said
      don't let your dreams be dreams
      so any time i go to sleep
      it's always nightmares indeed
      a lucid hellscape, i cant
      move i cant scream
      as i lay there unawake
      my fists pounding at the sheets
      it steady creeps, in my head
      it lays dormant in the day
      but still it's stench seeps out
      constant suffocates my brain
      as i struggle for a breath
      and my heart starts to race
      i just wanna lay down and
      fantasize a better day

      chasin xanny with the whiskey
      give a fuck about my kidneys
      life feels like a living hell
      if the furnace isn't in me
      so im steady blowin smoke
      out my lungs like a chimney
      my body like the house that
      you used to live in with me
      now it's empty and i'm starving
      feelin ugly, i'm not eating
      but the devil promised riches
      thus, the dark, i will believe in.


      So Spoke Zarathustra
      we're in this shit again
      as i built up another hope
      and then i lost another friend
      now there's demons in my head
      i expose my skeleton
      i thought that i could trust you
      always swore you're genuine

      but now i'm in this swamp again
      and i be wadin' through the water
      my skin begins to bubble up
      my blood is getting hotter
      and i can hear a voice within
      screaming out with an offer
      all the pain will end if i just
      offer up my slaughter
      let the water take me under
      let the Bishop take me under
      i could send my soul away
      and throw my body in gutter
      and i shudder in my slumber
      fingers gripping at the sheets
      and i wake up in a sweat
      this is what she did to me.


      don't let your dreams be dreams
      let them be nightmares
      when your soul's in the dark
      you can trust that the night cares
      upon a hilltop
      there stood a white mare
      who scoffed my direction
      took off and left me there

      taking an L like
      fuck, i'm here again
      Zoroastrian hell
      as my heart starts withering
      cut that bitch out,
      used my last breath
      to bury it
      fell to the ground
      as my life was
      diminishing

      send me to hell
      then at least i'll be free of this


      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxvLc2a6Iao&t=112s

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ff0bq_ydEQ

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w--D1S8SrCQ

      if anyone would be interested in my top 10 emo rap tracks of 2018 lemme kno because i know what they are i just font have the everny to write a wholeass post on it but if yall want it i will

      bye now

      6 votes