:3

poem cemetery

[gloopysblog]

Frankenstein demo

gloopytunes's project on [untitled]

turning poems into songs (trying)

Frankenstein

I wanna fuck & never take my clothes off

I wanna take that feeling and burn it up

toss it in a river, feed it to wild horses

taste my bitterness.

I say shit, fuck, shit & I mean it,

I take a fistfull of baritone

& I swallow it, I wonder

what it feels like

to look like that

me as a man is more

ma-ma-ma-ma-monster with

two different hands, they are

two different colors

one was a soldier's and

one was someone's daughter's

stitched into my arm, there are

scars from the cauter

shit, fuck, shit and I mean it

i take a fistfull of baritone

& I swallow it

could you tell me what it tastes like,

my bitterness?

I wanna fuck, and never take my clothes off

reach out, touch my body

tell me I'm burning up

I made myself warm for you,

a sweaty little hearth

I made myself somebody,

a man from the ground up

shit, fuck, shit and I mean it

I take a fistfull of baritone

just once, I wanna know

what it feels like

to be inside

please?

[raisinchallah]

literally thank god sex isnt real and was just invented by big fiction to emphasize greater social and psychological themes i was getting scared id have to do all that

[humanoidhistory]

The atrium lobby of the Hyatt Regency Atlanta, 1967.

[gloopysblog]

boy like a boy,

hard like a boy

salt on skin like boys skin

wrong like a boy over and over

and never change like boys don’t.

be bad like a boy, become danger.

be selfish, stretch out,

expect silent help.

bathe like a boy,

fast and haphazard.

move on, move past,

a hand on her waist,

don’t ask, don’t ask.

[gloopysblog]

self loathing is a beast

whose story is not thrilling.

he shuffles into your room late at night,

or the room of your lover

and with a bored,

arrogant voice, he says,

get that fucking perfect thing out of your bed, im coming in.

get them out or I’ll smother them with my big tired body,

you idiot.

and maybe you try to bargain

with him, list your accomplishments.

you’re trying to be better,

trying to listen,

trying to be selfless,

your therapist says so.

and he laughs and laughs

and says

we both know what you are.

so you leave.

so you wake up in his fur,

and you write a song about how no one understands you,

and he bobs his head to the melody

and harmonizes.

[tragicburnout]

[gloopysblog]

The poem that got me banned from lex