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This song goes out to you, ghost boy.And maybe you
too much of your own music
I am violin string, broke on lonesome.
You are an LSD trip inspired tattoo,
words to your tongue you can't take back.
and my head said
you won't fucking forget
you can't stop dreaming of
in all it's grand cliché
and the music.
my speakers are broken
but that never
the words from flowering out into the air
and so can you blame me
to your name
People are big and scarySometimes
a human life is too big
and I am too small
and I think
if I squeeze hard enough
that I'll disappear completely
I don't believe in godAnd, as hard as it is to believe sometimes, you just want to feel like someone is guiding you.
Dragging your hands forward to the asphalt.
Pinning your wrist bones to the skin of your palms.
As you, or was it Jesus, who saved you from falling head first.
Into the man-made black, flat as waves.
The taste of your bleeding tongue.
The sky, trees and houses tipped around you like the cateye of a marble.
And some sufferer, buried in regret and silence.
Both creeping towards our death day where, goddamn, we finally get to read the answers in the back of the book.
Do single-cell organisms go to heaven?
And why allow me to learn my lesson.
But yet I keep writing, starting every sentence with "And"
Comes with a swordOne day I'll tell them everything I never talked about
The women at the support group
the strongest people I've ever met.
Jawbones made of steel and fractured jade
He pushed her up against a wall and broke her nose
Her eyes fill will glistening compassion
when she speaks of him.
How can you not see how brave you are?
The strongest people I've ever met
Fighting wars we cannot speak of outside this room.
I wonder how many of us will live through love
And of all the prayers for me, I hope my prayer for them is answered
Because some will return to their husbands fists.
The sun is shining outside
so I pray that they resist.
Praying mantisThe praying mantis
in my spot
on my sofa
I eye him from across the room
with his hands, brown spikes clasped together,
prays about as much as I do.
And equally as sucessful.
In the dark shade of the room.
His glassy eyes watch me watch him,
the light from the window reflected like TV screens.
His arms still fixed
the tips touching
still muttering under his breath.
He stays for long
but I daren't break his trance
in my chair
in my space
with nowhere to go but home.
SuckerEvery little thing
You mustn't be so forgetful
This is you
I'll sit on my porch when you go.
And through Monday, too.
Why not April, September?
This is me keeping secrets behind sour eyes
And my heart doesn't lay still
for very long
My insides twist
when I wonder where you are
This is me,
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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