M.

Female, she/her, teenager. I mostly write sad or angry stuff because when I’m happy I’m not writing on my phone. I like poetry if you couldn’t tell, please help me improve I guess. Also I love grunge and punk, rock on 🤘😬👍

https://open.spotify.com/user/31q4uzjxkjoufwepg3yf637pzmaq

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M.

https://open.spotify.com/user/31q4uzjxkjoufwepg3yf637pzmaq

Writings

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My Peyote Eyes

1 min read

My Peyote eyes,

Jim Morrison on the TV, singing snakes and lies,

His poetry shaking in my hands,

Save the glands…

Mexico cacti crown,

Waltz hippie-style in my

Native American gown,

God’ll sway with us in the sky.

Save the glands…

My Peyote eyes,

Stuck on the spinal glands,

My Peyote eyes,

They shine,

And they shimmer,

Growing, glowing, like a coal mine,

Suddenly, they get dimmer.

My Peyote eyes....

Poetry

Sunday Haikus

1 min read

Busking outside

The general store

On a warm Sunday.

We drank Fanta,

And smoked until

We ran out.

Playing cards,

Learning poker,

On the soft green grass.

We traded CDs;

Silverchair, Our Lady Peace,

By Nirvana, “Bleach.”

We passed around

A football on the

Dirt road outside.

I like to get high

With people who make me

Forget the Internet.

(This is a series of 6 Haikus I wrote about my friends ...

Poetry

Ink Drawn

1 min read

Ink lines drawn, stratchy,

Drawn in strategy,

Ink limbs drawn exactly.

Emaciated, as ribs drawn show,

With arms hung up, as we all know,

His face drawn tilted away, with long hair flow.

Carefully crafted cross,

With ink-drawn moss,

It was his loss....

Poetry

Irate

1 min read

Irate protesters grow in mass:

Eyes on the television red with fury,

So, like children, they angrily draw big signs and

Stand around, occasionally calling out an angry slogan.

Time spent scrolling, scrolling, scrolling,

Makes the eyes turn square,

And then fall out to reveal brains, dead,

Zombie-like.

The Experiment watch from many cameras:

Faceless heads storing information to be used

In your m...

Poetry

Red Dot

1 min read

Castle sits atop the hill,

Luxurious are the rooms inside,

Rich are the stained glass windows,

And red shag carpets.

Red dot wavers,

Glows, softens,

And then it explodes.

Dead king’s body lay,

Headless, on the floor.

Stained glass shattered,

Red carpet absorbing blood.

(Inspired by a poem/song written by Jim Morrison. I find his fascination with death, assassins, and reptiles very inspiring. ...

Poetry

Drama

Feel

1 min read

Boredom is not what you should feel

When firefighters rush to the scene.

I should feel, I do feel,

But it’s weak, it’s lean.

I don’t like it,

But whenever anything does anything,

I go away, cigarette lit,

Into my mind, quite empty, for something.

Unreal, floating away,

Dissociate with me,

What do you say?

It’s like I can’t really see.

Sure, I can feel,

But it isn’t really there,

Sure, I can’t t...

Poetry

Gateway Drug

1 min read

What the hell have I done?

I have spent countless months wondering if this is my fault or if it’s innate.

I swear, it started out as just fun,

And now each day, my pupils dilate.

I can easily tell the difference between

Real happiness and just being high.

I will always be unclean,

Trapped in my own gaslighting lie.

It’s hard to care much anymore,

About plot drafts and chapters,

I guess I’ll just...

Poetry

Creep

1 min read

I leaned back against the blue-tiled bathroom wall. My eyes kept unfocusing, everything becoming blurry and kind of distant. A million miles away.

I let myself slide down to the floor. My headphones sat softly over my ears, playing _Creep_ by Stone Temple Pilots.

Drowsily, I reached for my little handheld mirror. My eyelids sat heavily on green eyes with constricted black pupils. The mirror slip...

Drama

Girls These Days

1 min read

What are girls made of, you ask?

Sugar, spice,

And everything nice?

No, nope, not at all! That’s just a mask!

Listen here, man, to my advice

In this poem, it ain’t so concise:

Girls are made of fucking rage,

Girls are made of metal and punk.

Trapped, trapped, trapped in a cage,

And drunk!

Even the worm will turn,

Even the square will round out.

You, baby, have a lot to learn,

But don’t worry, i...

Poetry

Humour

I Always Knew It Would Come To This

1 min read

Yellow morphine skin,

With blue bloodshot eyes.

Do not let them win,

Do not let them hear your cries.

Blackened heart of cocaine and stone,

Red solo cups, cigarette burns.

You are totally alone,

I know it aches and it burns.

Acid crystals cling to the spinal cord,

Addiction starts in the heart.

It all started ‘cause you were bored,

And look! You’ve gone and lost your art!...

Poetry