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mae Jul 2017
there has to be some defect inside me
to only attract people
who do easily can leave me
without a fight.

I'll mask these feelings
in alcoholic drinks and cigarettes
in dim lit bars and busy coffee shops.
I am left to accept kisses from just as lonely people that I have never met
and never will have the chance to.

No one shows you the inside anymore.
It's all about the exterior
because as I've learned
the second you show the inside,
they leave and it hurts more
than it did when you were alone.

I hope it doesn't stay this way forever
because God knows we all deserve a little favor
and a little better than what we've been given.
Viseract Jun 2016
Blossoming
Red ink through clear water
Drifting
Sinking
Tendrils, wisps

Red ink spreading
Filling
Water no longer clear
Fingers stained with impurity
Clutching
Screaming

Isn't it a sin to cut?
just something I thought of off the top of my head. Picture it, if you want/can
I'm just where truly I belong
Singing a 2nd dating song...

It's your turn to love me back,
You're full-free to hold me tight /
Life's an amazing game to hack,
Morning's chased by wishful night...
A brief note about unwanted exposed life... a tired soul...
Ian Beckett Jul 2015
Regret is the consequential disappointment
That the thrilling transgressive frisson your
Online ****** therapist offered for a number.

On the web no one knows if you are a dog
But the Daily Mail knows if you are a love rat
Their readers will wallow in your misfortune.

Millions have had web fantasies exposed
Sharp onomatopoeic cheating thrills have
Become a fear of secret lives found out.

Their private diversions now public lead
Nervous executives newly emasculated
To realise life is short, shorter than desire.
perspectives on Adult Friend Finder and Ashley Madison website hacks and the motivations of voyeurs and players
Seán Mac Falls May 2015
The weakly poet
In praise of Joshua Haines
Drivel and Drek shines
Posers get ahead, very BAD ( so called writer ) sincere writers should dread.
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2014
Cadaver wants fame,
Posts— poetasteries  . . .
  .  .  .  Never sees it's lame.
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