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EllisDiep
A poem here and there. Sometimes 1 this week or a few next year, who knows.
It’s difficult to look outside of my my- -croscopic lens; it just feels like a job to never have to consider who is an actual person that should matter to me. It’s an almost impossible trick, that only me and most other adults can forget how we felt growing into a new body, how we forget ever knowing We're just like everyone else who also thinks they aren’t like everyone else because they didn’t have someone to hold their heavy lovelorn child-hearts.
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Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 10:10 PM UTC
Growing Up
Broke as hell Blue light eyes Pity be pity see Pushing till they pull Color coded notes on fire Scholar of all that is okayish Handicapped lockjaw zombie Swimmers in the styrian river of Dante’s Inferno A stop sign growing in the middle of the street Thousand yard letter grade stare 12 missed assignments Experienced Naivete Dementia in progress Last year’s Amnesia Crossing busy streets Vegetative
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Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 4:00 AM UTC
Alternate Names For College Students
Little did he know How small I wanted to look Shrinking into the corner and atomizing my existence Failing to climb the mountain of expectations Falling with my eyes closed Shutting my hands over my face I can’t look him in the eyes because his hands closed over mine like I had just died And as I laid in the funeral casket hands flat against my sternum The lid closed before he saw I’ll never see him I don’t want to How tragic I’m running a never ending race Just to break my legs before the finish line I’m the crumbs beneath his fingers Only his I want him to see me but not see me I still want him To talk to me Just not now Or later Or ever I’m too busy licking envelopes with letters I’ll never send And that i’ll never want him to read Or know of I’m so sorry
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Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 3:58 AM UTC
Please Don't Look
I was told I didn’t need to know the Ingredients For making a child with a heart of Gold That they were born holding a Medal Which said they owned everything and All Of it was because they had convictional Purpose The doctor would cry and bring a rose Flour To thank the mother for Baking An excellent batch of babies, Soda Would be poured in champagne glasses, Salt Sprinkled a top its head to spread like Butter The flavours of intellect and it also Softened The hearts of others around; old wounds Granulated Smelled like caramelizing Sugar Inside the room, the bodies Packed Together to peer at the Brown Strings of hair atop the child, who’s Sugar -like shrieks of life broke open the Egg Of love and made it taste like Vanilla Its tears looked the most Semisweet A dripping fountain of Chocolate Fondue, be careful not to Chip The teeth when it grows, it will grow Coarsely Then, like jagged pebbles Chopped With a dull knife; finally, assemble the Nuts And bolts tight because this will hurt ,if Not properly done, or simply toss away if the kid wasn’t desired
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Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 7:37 PM UTC
A Simple Cookie Recipe
In the middle of the faded moonlight I awake Hellish black surrounds me—my eyes ache to peer under the shut blinds beneath it reveals a splendor so fine Never before sought Tranquility from its image I wrought So I started to the fence of my backyard And after my clamber over, I found my skin marred Barely a wound, I said A noise, angry and loud, told me to flee from his homestead Too beautiful the Earth was here, too precious the vision That I devoured up the hemlock then, and died in the garden
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Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 2:09 PM UTC
The Garden Over the Fence
I- -want to say- -something- but i- -to talk to you- but i- -thinking about thinking- -too- because i- -think-    -much- -i meant too much- but i- -m just a ****** because i- -don’t know what to- but i- -see you walk away- because i- -didn’t- -opened my- dumb mouth but i- sit- next to you- -so close- because i- -want- -want,want,want- I really want -talk to you- but i- -stumble, fumble, tumble- over words- -because i- No- -i’m not- -really- but i- -i’m not lonely- -because i- -convinced myself 15 different times- -with 15 different excuses- … -so what- -if you walk away- I’ll talk to someone else.
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Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 1:49 PM UTC
Learning to be an Extrovert
My mind whirls in never-ending revolutions Searching for something to put into a physical form But to no avail. A deep maelstrom, ******* in, but never putting out. Seeking to manifest, yet without means or material to do so. I wonder stuck aloft inside my own brain. How. How do I do this, I think, brooding over my own thoughts. Sentence after sentence and nothing appears. A terrible curse entrenched in my head And benumbing my very process of thought. The Energy of a supernova spewing out an inordinate amount. I need to transform it, Put it into production, Set it to work so I don't perish along With my own shortcomings and flaws. Still, no matter how hard I stress my mind, I’m left with nothing. A veritable nothing. What am I to do What do I do-
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Oct 17, 2021
Oct 17, 2021 at 8:23 PM UTC
Blocked
Crawling out of my mouth from whence it peeks out from under my tongue The teeth bite with metal sound upon the spoon Slipping in my stomach the slime I decline the double bent fingers you lend Hearts wretched cavity lying in my throat A gnawing grip at my temples unable to free last night’s tears The clink of teeth and spoon grinding at each others hard skin Shrink from my eyes the blur of the past year Tempest toss screaming from inside my brain blue white radiance gleamed violence and heat scorching undeserving thumbs from sad hunched men In Dark Rooms they count down the time Until their lover’s friends reach immutable verdict Guilty of High Crimes Cried In Unison By testimony of your heart I sentence thee to fractured living and eternal wandering For the **** of emotions and time Never to feel passion or intimate soft hands Tilt your face to the ground for the light does not touch you Bring your knees broken on hard pavement I feel your loss Blood filled stuffed animal Bleed out of ego Falling out of your body Hands Clasped together and heads touching Clear that the abuse comes from my white knuckles Now twist your spine ten-fold Living in hypocrisy the mirror says I know not the right path Leave me be as my unhuman person Feeling for the oozing viscera out my pores Claws mark me into confusing messes Snap the connection The Black blackens against the brackish water Wading further down the sand grips at my heart Crystalizing it so that It may be transfixed into something living.
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Oct 14, 2021
Oct 14, 2021 at 1:09 PM UTC
Hate you, Hate me, Hate Them
Crawling out of my mouth from whence it peeks out from under my tongue The teeth bite with metal sound upon the spoon Slipping in my stomach the slime I decline the double bent fingers you lend Hearts wretched cavity lying in my throat A gnawing grip at my temples unable to free last night’s tears The clink of teeth and spoon grinding at each others hard skin Shrink from my eyes the blur of the past year Tempest toss screaming from inside my brain blue white radiance gleamed violence and heat scorching undeserving thumbs from sad hunched men In Dark Rooms they count down the time Until their lover’s friends reach immutable verdict Guilty of High Crimes Cried In Unison By testimony of your heart I sentence thee to fractured living and eternal wandering For the **** of emotions and time Never to feel passion or intimate soft hands Tilt your face to the ground for the light does not touch you Bring your knees broken on hard pavement I feel your loss Blood filled stuffed animal Bleed out of ego Falling out of your body Hands Clasped together and heads touching Clear that the abuse comes from my white knuckles Now twist your spine ten-fold Living in hypocrisy the mirror says I know not the right path Leave me be as my unhuman person Feeling for the oozing viscera out my pores Claws mark me into confusing messes Snap the connection The Black blackens against the brackish water Wading further down the sand grips at my heart Crystalizing it so that It may be transfixed into something living.
Continue reading...
37
Drink my blood like cider The ochre goes red Outside my skin to Deify the god inside Ill vie for your minimal Mulling over the caramel Affection with the other men Who came before all the same But please gratify me to ease My fears which stand like trees Get me high like reeling teeth Which seeps silt and sifts sand O, I turn yellow with an ill Sour piano trillo Allow me to try my size With lies my swallow belies But swallow a swallow And my stomach ***** open Wide for you to titlelize O, I try and try, but You are wont to die By my shy crime So, I’ll go like the sweet N-low in bad coffee You spilled for me And the rain will tear My mother always told me so One day, i’ll know The way your lips mouth no Now, wipe my tears dry Sing ‘til I die Then linger once more In mind and memory Loosely flows tomorrow
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Oct 13, 2021
Oct 13, 2021 at 1:53 PM UTC
Yours No More
It’s a perfectly dreamy day to disappear The streets are quiet, and the sky’s cloudy No one’s around, but that doesn’t mean it’s empty There’s light in the air, just enough of it Concrete ground scrapes the bareness of feets A mirror pool reflects an image of self At least what appears to be a self Different but still very familiar Backlit by the grey clouds Pierced by this slender monolith Broken by these glassy ripples Dark silhouettes dance on black canvases The dry wind mimics them but stumbles through hair Who said anything about being outside? The ceiling filters light through a window Dim metallic light which hugs the body Into a feeling of half-closed eyelids and irreality There are human-sized holes in the walls next to the black paintings leading into dark deep caverns Where the air runs like stale sandpaper against the gums of my teeth And the animal scampering echos off invisible walls The blackness slurs its static noise A cold command forces obedience Look back at the holes. Look at how they change every time eyes blink Look through the shadows which curtains the door Look and tell them what you see L—
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Oct 13, 2021
Oct 13, 2021 at 1:29 AM UTC
Speak of Rothko