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Metanoia
Metanoia
Hello voyager
It was on Washington Street San Francisco In the old brick building Where I watched you shoot up On your bed You asked if I wanted any "Just a little make sure it's a clean needle" And I felt warmer than I had Before We chain smoked then climbed from your window Up the ladder to the roof And watched the fog roll in Through the Golden Gate On an otherwise lovely day I walked down the hill To Van Ness Avenue And caught the 49 To City College I nearly nodded off in a field Before geography class What a sick little mess I was At 23 It's been years since I've seen her
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Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
Washington Street
David Bowie died I watched my brother get taken away by parole officers Drug charges He served 6 months In August I put my dog down He became unwell I pet him as the vet injected It's hard to say goodbye In September a dear friend Was killed on his motorcycle In Oregon Smashed by a semi-truck I was supposed to see him two days later At a wedding It's hard to say goodbye In late October my mother Had a nervous breakdown She said she couldn't trust me Before being taken away in an ambulance She's not the same person now Leonard Cohen died as well And it's not even December
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Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
2016
Sammy died on the 4th of July in a fire He tried to save his house mates from the burning wreckage but never emerged We didn't always get along In fact at times I thought he hated me Disappointed in my decisions or lack of self control I cried at his funeral and couldn't stand to see him stuffed inside a little box Today is Sammy's birthday and I celebrate the life of a friend I love By remembering and continuing on with his ghost at my side There's nothing else I can do
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Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
Sammy
I am who I'm with I am not as I appear I am a chameleon I change too much to stay alive
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:09 AM UTC
Chameleon
In a ***** roadside bar lonely drunks remember themselves briefly they've experienced loss like us and once a week are invited onto a damp little stage under a flickering light to say something as a reminder of their existence in the middle of nowhere like a wandering ghost in an old motel
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Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
Open Mic
There's a weird door on a hill near my house Beyond the door is just more hill What are you for weird door?
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Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
Weird Door
She hides the scar with long sleeves Even on scorching summer days So no one can see or ask why I sometimes tell stupid jokes to try and make her smile But there's an awful sadness in her eyes that I can't cure Nicky's wrist is a road-map to a dark place with no return ticket She reaches for a bottle of pills to knock her out at night The knife she used under the bed
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Nicky's Wrist
I am not a cop politician or preacher I am not the director of advertising head of sales or top model I am not your mother father or annoying uncle therefore I am not going to tell you what to do
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 8:28 AM UTC
What to Do
all you kids will figure it out find love feel free it hurts now but I swear one day you'll wake up and be 43 years old wishing you were young again laughing at your past shutting off your phone at dawn to sleep an hour more
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
Teenage Poetry
The carpet is ***** but I sleep on the floor of the room I lost my virginity in when I was a teenager where is she now I wonder the view of the adjacent house through the cobwebbed window remains as it did those ten or so years ago shadows of trees dance on a fresh white coat in the sometimes breeze overgrown bush and brick below with grass and damp decoys worried about an unwell friend fighting the urge to walk to the bottle shop and forget about my life for awhile
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Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 7:08 PM UTC
February 13