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heavy-bored
heavy-bored
American I write about sex and substances because I want to learn about love and coping methods / / so I write a lot and I do not like punctuation
you spend too much time in your own head that one of these days you'll get locked in. Draw the blinds of your eyes shut the door of your mouth stuck inside, alone except for the demons who hide in your mind's closet. Your shelter transforms and you are sentenced to solitude in a prison of thoughts.
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Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
a silent manifesto
shades drawn, I tried to swim in a sea of sheets cursed by demons with life-jackets who would never drown- and as I suffocate, their chests continue to rise they float, I sink. Please float away from me, this underwater magnet of misery. I am anchored in you, Sending Out Sadness- waiting to wash ashore.
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Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 11:15 AM UTC
dark ocean
they tell us not to be defined by our bodies yet my innocence is tied to my hymen's status my appeal tied to the circumference of my thighs though beauty may come in all shapes and sizes it is only recognized as the number on the tag of that little black dress you match with heels that cut into your ankles and lead to stares that cut into your confidence "compliments" rain down and you're not given an umbrella or at least a ******* raincoat so you end up drowning, sopping wet with your sexuality your ability play down your education and play up your physical attributes so my worth is tied to how much i can disappear my careful use of measuring cups reading labels like books but let me tell you, there is nothing sensous about shoving a spoon down your throat and salads may be **** but i can't have *** with you when my blood sugar is this low while you admire my "womanly" curves i am haunted by what it took to get my stomach to lay flat so **** the desire for delicate wrists these expectations are too heavy to carry in these ******* coach purses
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Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
womanly
i'd avoid the sunrise, it reminds me of you turn off my eyes around two stay closed, stay closed stitched them shut with regret (out of Elmer's, out of gas money) did spend his twenty dollars- compensating for more than a broken ****** forgot about the plan b and stuck with plan a high alone off cheap **** bought from a kid who's got a house in the hamptons i guess we're all living less than what the college brochure says or maybe more, flip the campus map over find us alone in our beds fitting one, two on the mattress not two, not both one, two find us alone find us alone together stay closed, stay closed in the morning sink to the floor up, shower, socialize, shrivel to the friends who promised you an in when you only wanted an out
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Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
sophomore slump
entangled, entangled, entangled we crash like opposite seas desperate to aim our currents towards each other, if only for a moment. My legs rest over yours and I am glad I forgot to cut my fingernails as I trace your back trying to imprint my presence in some temporary, physical way. I can see you eyeing me digesting the surroundings- the context of my heartbeat all at once I realize in a wave of melancholia you like my body more than I do; So I wonder if you can sense self consciousness in a stroke or hear sadness in a sigh. (It's later) right now, as I breathe into your shirt that you left behind taking in the back of your neck, the door closing, the absence all I seem to think about is how someone can be so gentle, yet so rough all at the same time
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Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
making amends with monday mornings
the familiar sting fills my nose initiates the numbness at ease, at ease to give in is to lose the remainder of my innocence but am I so innocent to have anything left to lose weakness comes in all shapes and sizes but invisibility only comes in one shade and there is only one door to escape out of so I write on my hand: this is redemption in permanent ink so when I wake up tomorrow groggy from the lines cut on my biology textbook I will remember natural light only comes in if the shades are pulled up and the window is open
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Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
so I'm trying to go to bed before three
we walk on the beach as I reset myself to your clock I asked if you had enough room for me in your eyes you responded with a smile "always" and those two syllables seem to stretch longer than the ocean on that foggy horizon and though I can't count the grains of sand than run through our toes on this vacant beach I don't need a lighthouse to find my way into your heart you whisper "let me in" but you're already closer than ever before hands laced let us use the waves as blankets let me make a home in your sweatshirt and stubble let me find refuge in your burning eyes and let us walk forever on this infinite stretch of bittersweet heaven
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Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
this sweet love
we walk in pairs holding the sides of strangers to combat our inner wars with the company of flattering eyes cheap drugs and cheaper wine aid our quest to heal the inner aches caused by the lonely city for a moment he holds me and I wonder if this is how it should feel though this is when his skeletons are tucked in the closet and I ate my secrets for dessert so we crash into each other at midnight but the tide draws in at dawn the wreckage of a storm leaves me more lost than driftwood because we all know what it's like to wake up, eyes open in an empty bed and realize, all at once the goddess of insecurities must reign over us all
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Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
as city lights throb
I clench my teeth so hard that I've given myself a permanent headache always have an advil in my back pocket except I used to chase it with a tall glass of him because he was like rain the kind of downpour you'd go outside to feel without an umbrella opened up your mouth and looked up to the sky didn't you feel so alive? as the water reached every pore, even the ones you never knew you had (but now the rain is gone) and this was before we disconnected my body from your soul removed the morning dew from the cold grass traded evergreens for oaks droplets for ice only to realize a new coast was not a new life so now, every time the clouds form I think of you and your rain jacket when everything feels so heavy, I miss your light love the way it trickled down my face as your hands trickled down my spine didn't you feel so alive?
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC
didn't you feel
I once found solace in your arms before everything changed
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Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
past tense (ten words)