Tag Archives: used

ungrateful

there are so many

pretty things in

front of me

why do i still view

the ugly truth?

.

is it because

i know there will be

nothing more

or what i’ll have is

more than used?

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Filed under Poetry

try, but the taste of blood remains

the taste

on your tongue

is called

bitter resentment,

and you

better get used to it

’cause you

can’t wash it away

with the

strongest apology.

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Filed under Poetry

Room for Seconds

Cold pizza, tie-dye shirts (I don’t care)
Broken hearts, give ’em here
Give ’em here (Where you’ve been)
Hand me downs, gimme gimme
Leftovers, gimme gimme (How many miles)
Sloppy seconds, give ’em here
Give ’em here (I still love you)…

~*~

It’s not the fault of San Andreas

That you went way over the line

Bone chips stuck out of your skin

As you said you were simply fine

Narcotic pain and conversations

Over the rusted telephone booth

And I’ve got teeth marks on me

When you bit me with the truth

I was just your sloppy seconds

Devouring my entire existence

And when you fed your demons

You no longer needed assistance

I was just the emotional baggage

That you left ticking at the airport

You’re contemporary, I’m vintage

So you cut my oxygen tube short

And I was too desperate for shit

I barely felt the knife in my back

I guess salty wasn’t your flavour

So you burnt me charred black

I took my low blows with stride

You chewed with mouths open

Wiped your lipstick off the side

Your goodbye was resentment

And it’s a damn shame we fell out

The bed was shrinking fast for two

I ended up sleeping on the ground

The lies were clear: it’s me or you

But don’t you leave me hanging now

I’m starving and I will be playing fair

And I’ve got enough room for seconds

Even though I know you’d never share.

~*~

And there is not a single place
That I would rather be
I’m fucked up just like you are
And you’re fucked up just like me…

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Go On and Give the World a Show

1.) Your mind is boiling bleeding bending screaming and that motherfucker is doing nothing but saving your watercolour tears in a crystalline vial and using it to paint your evocative portrait in his dollar store canvas.

2.) Your heart is cursing complaining coronary sedating and those bastards are doing nothing but taking your severed arteries for the next transplant performance to entertain surgeons, scaramouches, and curious sickos.

3.) Your soul is pulsing pirouetting paralysing sacrificing and this asshole is doing nothing but pasting your flattened cardboard spine into an unused oak guitar and singing hypocritically about his next hit tragedy.

4.) You are woeful whimsical winning simply synesthetic and the critics did nothing but make you infamous and indomitable as you rose against their vehement volatile tidal waves and triumphantly held your billowing flag on the blue moon.

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Filed under Prose

Uprising of the Used

If we’re the flagship of peace and prosperity
We’re taking on water and about to fucking sink
No one seems to notice, no one seems to blink
The crew left the passengers to die under the sea…

~*~

White colours of the state

You pledge allegiance true

For you can’t enter the gate

Unless you’re red, white, blue

.

His thick orange leathery skin

Can’t be penetrated by bullets

Nor a good conscience within

He is headed for a trainwreck

.

A single line and one ink stain

Is all it takes to crash and burn

And signatures and nuclear rain

A peaceful haven it can’t return

.

Masses thrown and rejected

Staunched like the rusty blood

From a war looming overhead

Of this one nation under God

.

But the voices can be stronger

Than one tyrant’s foolish games

When the stars and stripes fall

You’ll remember his cursed name

.

Make an enemy and he will lose

For they’ll surely stand and fight

And angels are more dangerous

Without their pure glowing lights

.

For the power may be his to abuse

To corrupt and twist to his whims

But this is the uprising of the used

And they will never let stupidity win.

~*~

Countdown, to the very end
Equality, an invitation we won’t extend
Ready aim, pull the trigger now
It’s time you firmly secure your place in hell…

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Filed under Poetry