Scarlett O'Hara

I'm being lazy but I can't find the thread I made. So I write and lately I've been writing versus's because my life's a big **** hole right now and the only way I can relieve my sadness is through lyrics. It's pretty average but it's how I feel:

Letting It All Go

Sitting with my buddy Canterbury Cream, we are working together; we’re going to be a team.

The senses ease and **** doesn’t feel as bone splitting. It sensual as it flickers down my throat, its white essence gives a feeling of the dark clouds walking away.

I couldn’t keep holding on, I lost my breath, the world sucked every damn inch of me into its piercing jagged jaws.

I’ve got to keep feeling, keep moving, keep believing that I can reach for air and show those people who’s boss.

I ****ing run my life, no one else. Stop giving advice if you can’t get your own life together!

Yeah life’s hard; turn off the broken record. How about walking the talk? How about stop acting like you’ve got it all figured out.

Oh right everything’s my fault right? You expect me to know everything but then say you don’t. All these expectations keep blocking my view I can’t see through the negativity you’re fanning at me.

The liquid is still soaking into my skin it’s like an injection, it stings then numbs all over.

I feel so useless not knowing what to do, all these problems building up like Mt. ****ing Manjaro. Everyone has an opinion but when push comes to shove, I only see dust in the track.

Now I follow my own regime, I earn my own doe and I’ll keep drinking my succulent cream.

Apparently I can’t be seen as a mother, a hard worker, a player or a partner. See the gentile’s faces drop when I not only blow all that **** but dominate the world.

If you start with nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of giving up I’ll be laughing in my crib while they lick their wounds.

Oh no, I’m a female, how can I do what can man do and more? By being the best that’s how, I’ve got something that the human race could only dream of.

I’m cooking up a feast, you haters be getting hungry! I don’t want your drooling all over me, get back into the kitchen, bitch I need them eggs!

I’m all for peace and love, but you’ve got to earn respect to receive it. You can keep calling but I’ll keep ignoring.

The females get jealous to easy, sisters got to work together as life won’t always be peachy. See me naked? Don’t start preaching when you’ve got the same genitals.

Its’ brewing its brimming the feelings I’m giving, can’t deny the smile isn’t filling. Knowing the black hole is closing in, tears spat out drying up, the wasted worry dusting the mantle.

I could end it all so easily, let the blood flow, the stomach fill but I was born with strength in all places. No need to calve myself I just need to hold onto patience.

I’ll sleep sweetly tonight knowing tomorrow is not going to cut my lifeline.

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someonecompletelyrandom

The language was very plain and to the point. I felt that there isn't much masking the emotion behind these lines. Personally, I liked that. Even if I usually prefer something with a bit more poetic flourish, it is refreshing to read a piece like this. It's evident that it means something, unlike the "I wish you could call it pretentious" kind of stuff that you usually see in this sub-forum. As the piece goes on it becomes more abstract in places, which I enjoyed. I will say it seems a bit unfocused, however. There's a lot going on and sometimes it seems to jump to new gripes with little to no transition.

I loved the almost childlike desperation in the line about Canterbury Cream, which is an alcoholic beverage, right? It's such a sesame-street like rhyme that's so simple and yet so dark.

So yeah, I did enjoy this.

Chaplin

as poetry, that captures how you're feeling right now, it's good. i kind of wondered about a few lines like "bitch i need them eggs:, but hey, sometime's a nigga's gotta have eggs

Scarlett O'Hara

More than a sensation:


It’s in every step I take,
A stabbing heartbeat mocks me.
Tender thoughts no longer follow sequences,
And I’m squeamish at the mention of hope.

Tipping over the glass,
Breaking the stems of roses,
Lunging into oblivion,
Death sleeps beside me.

I creep about the kitchen,
I flush my body with garbage.
Laying under the sparkling wine sky,
Silence chews at my patience.

Brittle moments pass,
In a final sidestep,
With a giddying slice,
Insomnia never haunts again.

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