Categories
POEMS

Wet Dreams(Grown up)

I woke up with
Gunk in my eye, sadness in my face
I check my sheets
Cum all over me, cum all over the place.
Categories
POEMS

Wet Dreams

I was with Miss Robinson,
I was in Miss Robinson.
It felt like I pissed inside her
As I finished she was opening her legs wider.
Pretty weird way to see my English teacher,
An 8 year old boy naked, fucking under the bleachers.

Categories
POEMS

I’m wearing yellow and screaming inside.

I'm a hydrogen bomb of colour,
I'm going to explode.
Instead of fire,
It's my emotions that will bring this place down.
I'm drowning in a sea of navy,
Trudging on shades of brown,
Blinded by so many people wearing black.
My camouflage is at home,
My mirror advised for a pop of colour.
The enemy can see me.
Correction:
Everyone in this room can see me.
I make a move, they watch.
I don't make a move, they watch.
Their alliance of grey, blue and black becomes the voice of my insecurities.
My eyes swallow up into my eye sockets,
Eye contact is the worst possible thing that could happen right now.
My sweats are my tears due to my lack of emotion and self-sympathy.
The end of the world seems upon me,
All I can hope for is for today to be over because
Baby,
I'm wearing yellow and screaming inside.
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POEMS

Don’t love me.

Don't love me.
Don't love me.
I don't want to need your love so
Don't love me.
Don't love me.
Your love isn't 24/7 so please
Don't love me.
Don't love me.
I can't love you back so
Don't love me.
Don't love me.
Don't come near me, don't call me,
Don't love me.
Don't love me.
If you really love me,
Teach me how to love myself.
Categories
POEMS

Johnny

He started out with his head down,
an almost-innocent little creature.
Soft rim,
Soft core.
He was capable of more,
You could see it in his veins.
He thought starting out small made him redundant,
but what he didn't realise...
Was that if he chose to,
He could become a force bigger than reality itself;
Something bigger than you and me.
Something only your mother could calm down.
For once he freed himself from the weight of fear and doubt,
he was free to grow into the phenomenon he was meant to be,
beautiful, masculine, characteristic. Avant-garde. 
A profile almost Greek-like,
but fatter.
(And longer).
A totem poll of individuality,
Vomiting creation and progression itself.
A COCK SO BIG IT'S SCARY.

Now when at large, he silently roars
with blood rushing through veins.
Muscles twitching. Bulging. 
A structured base as firm as timber.
A head as thicc as the Bible.
With this strength and knowledge he responds to the call of duty,
Knowing in his pulse that
He, is the true hero of his story.
A hero who stands to face every morning
Not because he's a shower but
because he's a grower.
Categories
POEMS
My mother asked me why I don't sleep at night.
I told her the sun is still up,
It's just not with us right now.
Categories
POEMS

The sorceress that made my dick hard.

Her love handles are engraved with pale stretch marks
Slim stomach, small price tag of fat tucked into her high-waisted jeans.
Face: average
Body: Average
Her calves are skinny and her feet look a size 4
Her hair a mane, voluminous, dressed in hair grease
Her eyes sparkle, not like a newborn baby's but
I would fuck her.
I don't want to fuck her,
I wouldn't go out of my way to fuck her.
But if given the chance,
and she came asking for my dick,
I would most calmly and humbly take her to the closest toilet
and fuck her doggystyle with one foot on the toilet.
It's not that I see her as a 'sexual object',
I'm just not sexually attracted to her.
But I would fuck her.
I would because of the ultimate fact that
She wants me.

I sense it when she gazes at me thinking I have no peripheral vision.
I sense it every time she slowly whooshes past me,  seeing a need to "touch" my open flesh.
I sense it when she says "Hey, how was your day?".
Nobody cares about how my day was.
Others say I'm dreaming, hallucinating
But how can you show proof for instinct?
The Law of Attraction is something you just know,
Not something you can show.
It's her attitude, it's not her seducing me.
It's the way she's so positive about salivating on my erect penis.
most people don't do that.
Most people do vacuum phalluses but
most people don't talk about it.
That turns me on.
Her mindset.
It's easy yet enticing,
the right balance to take on any challenge.
It wants to lock me down and allocate me my punishment:
Cumming in her face then never seeing her again.
I may be doomed but
This, I can live with.

The jokes that give me an erection,
The play-fighting that gives me an erection,
It's all part of her mind's plan to rape me.
It's working.
But she has to complete the final phase;
She needs to ask me to have sex.
It's the choice that we all have to make in order to grow,
"Should I ask to fuck or nah?".
I could never chase my prey just to catch some tail,
I may stay for the meat but then I shall recluse back into the wild.
I could never ask her to give her the leverage of thinking that I want her.
My ego would be torn, my pride shredded,
My reputation, folded and permanently creased in my mind.
Plus I don't have the balls to ask her out of my deep-seated fear of rejection and fragile emotional stability.
But if I did ask her, she'd probably say yes.
But alas, it seems like we're probably not going to fuck.
Makes me feel sad but not defeated.
A conquest is never failed if the troops were never rallied.
I hope she changes her mind down the line and contacts me.
If not I'll just have to keep fucking girls that fit my standards to forget the pain.
Categories
POEMS

Feeling Filtration System (FFS)

I opened my mouth,
My soul almost poured out
I caught it just in time
No one should know what i REALLY think about.
Unless I bring it out through sarcasm or irony
or say "I'm joking LOOL" so they don't hear the real me.
Categories
POEMS

STOP TAKING PICTURES OF YOUR FOOD. IT’S SCARY.

I sat on a park bench
Not much wind, evening yoga classes surrounding me,
Overcast, amber sunlight falling though gaps between autumn leaves.
I looked to my left and saw a rippled, cracked umber tree
no actually, I think I saw two or three...
I looked away
I just wanted to breathe for a sec,
Then i chose to look back, swerving my head
the trees weren't trees anymore in my mind
they had become a quick upload for Instagram likes.

Categories
POEMS

Marseille

The bastard heat picks on my skin
White hot light rays blind me between each building's shadow
The ocean evaporates mid-air - the air itself rains down onto my skin,
It is moist.
So is the breeze from the Caspian sea that licks my skin,
Caspian kisses it with tongue. The slut.
The mountains grow beards of forests
The highways sizzle the bottom of affordable rubber tyres
A landscape hot as hell itself.
The French continue to smoke yet I see no clouds in the sky
Down on earth I see ripe french and Congolese women with voluptuous backsides,
uneaten baguettes, golden, that crack at the touch
and expensive wines from old dusty cellars of their heroic WWII veterans.
(Secret: The dust makes the wine expensive. Still good though.)
I'm at home, I'm at peace.
Pass the croissant, the butter and the Algerian waitress.