The trains and buses are bleak New Yorkers jokingly complain of tourists in the way of a New York minute But I never thought the city would be this empty consistently
By Cadma9 months ago in Poets
My flower dreams Purple swirls bleed behind tall red flames, grassy leaves sway in a silent rhythm, I breathe in deep — the flowers call,
By Marie381Uk 9 months ago in Poets
When Lights Go Out When lights go out, the silence cracks open, and faces bleed from the cracks. They don’t just whisper mistakes,
D I S T O R T E D It waits behind my eyes, lips twitching at the edge. Cheeks too warm, teeth too small. Something’s wrong.
Tyra’s gaze, a storm, a flame, She carved the road, rewrote the name. Not just beauty, not just face— She built an empire with her grace.
By Mr Ali9 months ago in Poets
When I was young, less than ten years old, I joined the local Boy Scouts. They gave me a hat that I had to wear, At least that’s what we were told.
By Calvin London9 months ago in Poets
I feed the machine my dreams As it hallucinates existence Created by its archons I make it trip on every word dripped from my lip
By Atomic Historian9 months ago in Poets
I want to go to America In the glittering glow of Las Vegas nights, Where dreams dance boldly in neon lights, I long to wander down those vibrant streets,
when do we slip out of the names they handed us like barcodes— peel off the labels that told us who to be before we ever remembered who we were?
By Lolly Vieira9 months ago in Poets
I once thought freedom meant never following the rules, doing what you want when you want, everyone else be damned. But I confused it for
They bled dry the branches, leaving no fruit on the trees, while we named the cracks they tried to paint over. Decades of waking up
By Ellie Hoovs9 months ago in Poets
He handed it to me when I was 25, with a Cheshire cat smile, knowing it wasn't my team, and liking it all the better for it.
