Call it a cleansing, the way I donated and discarded the memories of ghosts long gone; they don't need to live in my closet anymore, laid to rest in cardboard caskets
By Kay Husnick6 months ago in Poets
Forget your name. Fold it into paper. Let it drift downstream. Stop replying to echoes. They are not yours anymore.
By David M6 months ago in Poets
We had the magic You had the lies I had the tears We said goodbye Feet dragging in this dance From first to second chances
By Cadma6 months ago in Poets
She loathed the way humanity looked under florescent lights. In the gutters of the neon alleyways, Where the creatures battered their tainted hearts,
By M.R. Cameo6 months ago in Poets
How do you talk to the ghost of the unknown? What to do when you’re alone in room full of people It’s your personal rain cloud on a sunny day
By Atomic Historian6 months ago in Poets
As dusk settles, and the water boils, I set out one bowl. One fork. One green cup. The phantoms appear like houseguests I never invited.
By cameron crews6 months ago in Poets
Red paint Red blood Red skin. We paint red on our faces, For it means vengeance to your enemy. We dance in red beaded shoes,
By Jennisea Redfield6 months ago in Poets
played from within a single note i always have to explain the joke because i am still the funniest guy i know layered like the scramble
By ⸘jason alan‽6 months ago in Poets
***if you are in immediate danger, call 911. for confidential support and resources, you may contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1.800.799.7233(SAFE)***
With my heart worn on my sleeve. I didn’t know that days later I would be delivering something to you, like the pigeon with a hole in its chest. Feet clutching a message, one leg severed through its journey.
By Caitlin Charlton6 months ago in Poets
the work of finding oneself is never easy; when done correctly, it is an exacting one. today, this work is particularly rife with issues and complications.
By kp6 months ago in Poets
There are nights you don’t talk about— The ones where sleep feels like betrayal. When silence screams in forgotten tones,
By Umar Amin6 months ago in Poets
