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cleann98 Oct 2018
it was all my fault
          you were drenched in crimson
you just laid there
motionless
not a single
strand of your
snow white hair
left unpainted
with red—
     so still
  so pitiful
            so unnerving
so remorseful
         so convenient
                and so **** sad
      that you're still bleeding.
             clutching to
                  what's left
of your poor
          masochistic breath
                         as if
                 you're too sure
     that this time
              i'll hear you out...
   why won't you be?
          i was so sure
                  you'd be shouting it out
       anyway.    
just
like
how
you
scream
             'go to hell'
    or
           'go **** yourself'
                         or
  'die now please'
                                            or
        'you look like a taxi in that suit'
              or
                      'i hate you'
         or
                                          'i love you'
                  you'd scream everything.
    always.
                  like when you said
         'i'll always be there for you'
   and
          'i hope you never come back'
                           when you were hurt
                 you'd shout curses
                      like a prayer
      when you were drunk
   you'd screech songs
             like a drifting car.
                   but right then
                                      you whispered.
         and you whispered so softly
   it was more unbelievable
              than the fact that
      i heard it more clealy
           more soundly
                                     than the time
                    you screamed
    'i'm done putting up with you.'
          "tell me a little lie"
                 "and tell me you'll never"
     "ever leave me this time."
              and you were so peaceful
   this one single exeptional time
          as you tried ever so
                    unsettlingly
              to catch your breath.
        i simply couldn't resist.
                  "i promise."
   "i'll never leave you."
                        "ever."
     "cross my heart and hope to die."
               but you never
          did listen did you?
it was all your fault
i'm drenched in crimson
some promises just can't be broken
Poetic T Sep 2018
My hood was
            my graveyard...

They'll not remember me,
               as bones feed roses...
Whether virtual or actual paths cross,
     aye great thee ahoy
no fear Mademoiselle or Monsieur,
     thy harried style haint cloy

rather, when embarking
     on introductory acquaintance
     ship, aye employ
swiftly tailored indistinguishable,
     asper this wordsmith mebbe goy

or Jew, yet genealogically
     thine Semitic lineage,
     unknown descendants begat,
one generation after
     stitched another thread,
     whence warp and woof, sans dat

     (moth eaten tattered wool worth
     coat of arms), twas slim and/or fat
chance biologic dice throw
     adumbrated me Matt,
a skinny, quirky,
     and nerdy kid, who sat

alone during lunchtime
     at school pained, plagued,
     and pronounced with extreme,
     where introversion didst agitate
chronic state of misery being alive
     immobilized, hogtied, and forfeited

     natural predilection
     to discover and create
heterosexual relationships,
     viz interpersonal experiences
     re: raison to date
initial intimate rapport

     (anxiety fraught) fate
full situation with a gal
    giving her good grief great
(yes, twas Maryann Sage),
     who understandably became irate
predicated on lack

     of mine demonstrative affection
     quickly becoming an unsuitable mate
though now in retrospect
     (hindsight always 20/20)
     a sudden resurgent spate

finds remembrance of things passed
     (with her) engendering
     cerebral tete a tete
rankling memories,
     hence for death aye cannot wait!
kevin anderton Jan 2018
a blend of orange and yellow lights
smell from markers
sound echoes from the cube room
chairs are arranged
light traced the room from the window pane
swiftly, pen and paper work
noise and undescribed joke,
like here and go

money get in my mind
career path has choosen
now i'm sitting on office bench
talk about you and us
Oculi Nov 2017
It's the return of the gangsta, thanks ta
Them bustas that thinkin' they real trouble
Them ******* that tellin' me I'm but a bubble
I'm the real **** ******* don't point at me
I'm everything you and your buddies wanted to be
It's the return of the real G, ***** *****
I could straight up ****** you without the beat
I'm nothing like any of you think, I'm the danger
All you be seeing in my is just some ******* stranger
Lemme acquaint you with the las thing you'll see before you fall
******* thinking they're cool

They be thinking I'm a ******* busta
All they be seeing is I ain't a hustla
I ain't nothing but doom to you, lil *****
I ain't the one who be seeing the dirt in the ditch

I ain't Brown or André, I ain't no name in this *****
But it's still the return of the gangsta
Out here to kick yo *** back to when you had a masta'

It ain't happenin' again, ain't nothan'
No bebop ****, no big hood thangs
Just realize you outta line
Cause you ain't got a ******' dime
Bite my dolla', *****
A spiritual successor to two songs:
Outkast - The Return of the "G"
Danny Brown ft. Freddie Gibbs - The Return of Danny Brown
So yeah, it's pretty much rap.
Zero Nine Nov 2017
Not thoughtless
   enough to  ****  all day long
Not thoughtful
   enough to  escape the hood
Not petty
   enough to  market my  ancient little lies
Not honest
   enough with my  self  to
   out  grow  these twisted  vines

   All along, I've been
friends, only with the pen
   The pen is kind to me
when  I've  blown  my
chances, myself
   Slice  a  Y  you'll find
   The  heart  is  pa - per
   The  blood  has taken ink

   All along, I've been
friends, only with the pen
   All along, I've not been my own  by
extension, not myself
   No way I ever was
   If you could only see me now  my
friends
wasted
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