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TylerAustin
21/M/Illinois
I want you, In the clothes that you were born Or the rags I’ve got today Oversized and faded, I want you laying on the floor Like the muse in Neruda’s poems; like a Leonard Cohen girl You, in all black, your face pressed to the vent Me in my shame and my old John Hartford hat Looking like the mess we are Hiding a smile when you look at me, you know I love you in the morning so I know it’s no lie. An’ I’ll be there with you before the roll is called yonder Set silently, I won’t ask questions I don’t want answers to But I want you in a room where no one’s ever been Where nothing’s yet forgiven; but the dust settles evenly And the wind whispers outside our window With the snow piling up outside Stuck in a bed that’s been burning When holding still is its own kiss of life and staying is the bravest word to say. And in all the tales of old, great men Displaced and disappeared from our world Brave heroics, chemists, priests and mathematicians Down to Sisyphus and his rock I can see they’ve done it all for you Burning on the back of your left hand. And I intend to do it all again.
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Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 6:47 AM UTC
House on Fire
I had a dream of you last night, I’ve been doing that. I woke up wet Drenched in sweat; 4:56 At the sound of someone saying you were here. And I don’t know why it happened But I rumbled out of bed Babe, I padded down the hall Hair in my face; I couldn’t see **** The night with its mouth shut, I paced like Someone was listening thinking you’d just be in my living room As your warmth never left my chair But your prints long left my window So I stumbled back to home And back in bed, the sheets were metal I couldn’t follow anyone Morning leaked in; light burned where you weren’t The TV taunted me with choices; Illusory and fascinating With the muffled, muted sound of some Televangelist rat who preached Of God’s prosperity Sold between commercials for casinos As life went on outside my window What you said becoming all I think of Love gives you hope and then revokes it
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Dec 18, 2025
Dec 18, 2025 at 8:19 AM UTC
Pale Morning/Snow Day
I’ve been paralyzed for three hundred And eighty seven days  Eleven hours; and sixteen minutes Trapped in the state of Mississippi; as Low as I could be  With blood drippin’ - still Nothing was delivered from my waiting My hands were on fire in the parking lot Counted down breathing Hazard haunts the future harvest  Playing Willie Nelson records spun  On my coffee table In the long morning With light from the day crashin’ in  Tied to my bed in a funny enclosure Picking at the holes in my genes Kicking up the floor of the trailer Wonder if I’m all that’s on her mind Silence chewing caverns in my chest I’m workin’ all day Wondering if we want it or not Is love merely wanting in its absence  Empty store fronts Feeling like me It’s not as I still need him anyway
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Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 5:31 AM UTC
Shawneetown
Everything feels surreal As though everything is moving fast but stays completely still I’m running in circles Past friends and empty faces Passed stations and bus lanes Digging up bones in the dark Trying to find the exit Eternal peace And happiness For I can swear I saw it once In a red dress; on a cloudy day and I ran to it burning With the weight of oceans tied By a rock from my legs Left me kicking on again Pulling at the new scars death had left Again On a shackled up ghost; shedding skin I’m not who I was when you knew me And you’re not talking in your sleep “Well I’ll be ****** Here comes your ghost again” Sitting on a barbed wire fence On a dotted line; unending Alexa with her literary references Again I’m doing it, again. Losing my self in what I listened to And it’s all back It keeps happening again and again, and again. Until I wish I couldn’t breathe Until you’re tapping at my door On the crux of drowning A hand away from shore
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Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 5:19 AM UTC
All Thanks to Alyzabeth
When the war is gone or over Would you still meet me here Would you see myself as clearly If I only ran from you Trains don’t run to Blackburn town You gotta walk an awful way Just to make it to the depot Then you really got to pay When the ******* war is over Once I see them **** the king Meet me at the Caesar statue And profess your game to me I’m too far to hear the robins But I can hear my angel sing And I feel you in the water When we’re swimming in the Seine
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Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 5:04 AM UTC
Paris 1921/Swimming in the Seine
Trampled under forests where The dead dew greets new days On the night when I saw you We were turning a page And somebody saw you Dancing At the Bluebird and Flamingo Killing time on Delmar Street While I fell at your flat feet Half-drunk and underage Captive by the suture on Your woven dress backstage I’ve been thinking of my home a lot How hard it was to just move along And I still can’t touch the picket fence Without wondering what went wrong But there’s royalty in Knowing That I’m not ****** here forever In your heart, am I alright? And you could be mistaken By my hollow shade of pale I am not one of your ghosts And my blood isn’t for sale So I sleep with your name on my lips In the night, there’s a crackling whisper That lingers like dew on the wet moss Stuck to the boot of a drifter Now I’m burning my back in the shower Feeling like the wind could blow me down And I know nothing good can last forever Only evil has that staying power
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Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 4:11 AM UTC
Queen of England
You and I went walking down the road to his café Counting empty houses Feeling like two louses in the neck of a sparrow And I continued on when someone called for you Pacing through the seconds in a chore I watched you fall to pieces that July Leaving in my clothes that you’d outworn We had crossed the Platte River The end of December The heater was broken; we shivered inside I crossed into Denver the moment he died The doctor told you what you knew all along And you told me in Walmart up by Castle Rock My heart; it erupted; I spun you around While locals with pitchforks said we were clowns But I ran out of money by November I took up busy work by tending to the bar Just outside the city; on a gravel country road We took to the shelter when the weather got too cold And soon, the money was coming in Salt was selling faster than Beyoncé I took us out to dances; put a lien on a home You were feeling golden; we could finally be alone Habits die hard under diamonds of pressure Wishing I had checked out when you came The VA wasn’t kind to me; I wasn’t kind to him Nearly drank myself to death at Vicky’s Bar Finally we ended up where we were all along Your mother tried to tell you we were wrong I came back home to care for him and stay You started to grow restless and uneasy I was waiting for you at the top of the stair You slowly said goodbye I was never really one to ask you why.
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Jan 3, 2025
Jan 3, 2025 at 4:49 AM UTC
New Years Day
I thought it was written in the smoke That extinguished all our jokes Filling air as we both choke On the firing line And when it was seven until I headed out west for the hill And I threw up those pills Without saying goodbye But still I will always return Like I want to get burned In a love I’ve unearned For the rest of our time I thought it was written on the wall That had cushioned my fall From the blowback assault From the one wanting you And when I gave up on the bridge I remembered your kiss And I swore off that ***** As I stumbled away
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May 28, 2024
May 28, 2024 at 12:33 AM UTC
Boudoir Photos
David Bowie’s voice was like a race car bed to me To take me back in time, when we were only seventeen Sprinklers in the summer air, my feet on muddy ground Turn into ***** bottles as I scream without a sound Rachel’s cabin in the woods was a race car bed to me A lovely little paradise that brought so much to see The outside world did not exist, when I was with you there We kissed inside the living room with flowers in our hair And now I find that there is not a race car bed for me Nowhere else to turn to in my grand attempt to flee Fears that hunt me down like prey have chained me here to die A grown up bird, so limitless, but too afraid to fly
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Oct 17, 2022
Oct 17, 2022 at 3:10 AM UTC
Race Car Bed
No one ached when I died On a dusty August morning in the swelter of the sun They buried me in blue jeans and my coffin had a crack A chip along the edges matched the blood along the tracks Family preceded me; there was no one left to cry But a single solemn woman, hidden in the back Shed a single shiny tear; and only one to be exact No waterfalls or bowing heads, no crowd to see me go No burning candle vigils and no midnight serenade I marched the gates of life and death, alone but unafraid No one ached when I died No questions or suspicions from the folks around the town There were no weeping faces or a grand old death parade Just a digger and a preacher; lowered slowly in the grave
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Aug 26, 2022
Aug 26, 2022 at 8:52 AM UTC
Ache When I Die