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hedonic-nihilist
English I'm Stephanie. I am an aspiring philosopher, biologist, journalist and poet. I love to write: anything from newspaper writing to Resource Curse theory. My poetry potrays my thoughts, please enjoy.
her first love was mary jane she would've loved me, too, if i was easy to wrap up, put in her mouth and swallow if i could make her shiver in the warm, Florida sun and sweat in the cold decembrist moon if i could cause the coughs Within her swallow lungs The dreams she clung too so desperately I am not easy to roll up … his first love was ****** he wanted me too, too much i didn’t want to be the blood in his veins, the life when ****** ***** the life out of you, you **** the life out of it, the weekends that it wished for: become empty syringes on the floors of cheap motels and Honda Civics. … his first love was codeine i want to float too, i say you cannot, he says i sink into the abyss i create i used to have so many colors, i say no response, he fades away, the colors of the night, the reds, are all i start to know he said to **** the sadness out of naive girls they have to lose their skin codeine, codeine, codeine–my God, was all he ever said … my first love was Dead no sympathy, no remorse, no hearse the urn was blue, the ashes gray as cigarette ash the preacher sighs, again it could’ve been you, he says **** right, it could’ve been me; in that urn, it could’ve been me my first love is Dead
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Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
her first love was mary j.
i have to remember that they are better in my memories time uses its sweet fog to water down the bitter Whisky of the past i want to know that it is futile to remember things that are dead i want to live in a present with no past, like christmas day to be free of them and all of the stunted growth of my youth i am incongruous for faults not of my own to be whole again, to wash my body clean of dirt i never meant to get beyond my clothes i wish it was simple i live in a pink fog of discontent, uncertainty and an entropy that is only exacerbated by soft touch and holiness but i live for times when my head is at bay; no reticent lover, no sweet life could divert me from my path again
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Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
the past, it is the glasses of sweet fog
he ruined drugs for me the day i met him. i didn't want to love before--I'm not the same person I was; i loved someone who never loved me, who never saw me in any light (i'm still the dark) he ruined **** i loved it now its slow palpitations, turned into waves: i don't feel home at home anymore i'm drunk to myself he ruined hard liquor, made every face seen like his (i love beards now) it's awesome to pretend i've gotten over someone months away free association turns into him--what does he represent? a desire in my subconscious to be at bay; something that may never come i'm not the person i could be when i was happy i was happy. i drink beer and get high to forget the one who gave me my first beer my first tab shroom hard liquor i'll use these means to travel back to you; i don't want this, i don't need this how can i leave these states? i want to float on clouds i mean nothing to something in my thoughts i don't understand i'll drunk text everyone but you the one who'd drunk text me
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Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
the things you ruined: free association
remember my love, we **** flowers when we put them into vases
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
untitled
<!DOCTYPE html> I don’t want a love like the fireworks–explosive, colorful, perhaps ideal for Instagram filters instead a quiet love, for pictures for ourselves: unperfection is no flaw love I don’t want love like the wind! Don’t run from me; we are more than the seasons instead let us ditch the way the world can pull on us. I don’t want a love with you if you love me at my worst instead make me love you until I’m at my best I want to go home to midnight talk and you can bring those elusive fireworks into my tummy. </> forget that i am double-dipped; i’m dying to meet you: no-one in this world has made me feel much of much of much repeat words to me you love even if it’s just the rolling of your tongue that brings you pleasure’ i can move for you, for you, for you i have not met you yet–but when I do, pretend you never read my poems because this cadence, it didn’t start for you. I was in love before; in all the wrong ways and places There are rivers where I left my teenage innocence The holidays of my youth are dwindling please make my mouth curve up for my last Christmas and birthday as a kid Make me regret missing dinners with my family to do drugs I start to need; don’t meet me. I am better off </undone>
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Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
how i want to be in love
it was a day in spring and my vision was red–a monochrome of the senses i look at my knees and they are scrapped i look at my eyes and they are red i look on my bed and i see red, the bud of the bud is still there but i do not remember the day i cannot leave the house; i’m safer in my thoughts. i understand why there were Woolfs and Fitzgeralds before me i will crystallize those weeks in my words; we were too happy in photographs; i go back to the places we smiled and cannot breathe: i look at myself and i cannot breathe.
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
stains
Spontaneous combustion: A candle is lit in the middle of the room It gives more light than you have ever seen-when will this be unlit? Ignore the light, you think This isn't what you looked for You're used to being in the darkest Corners of the room. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it. It starts to emit heat It pulses back and forth You feel it in your chest, you feel it. Ignore the candle and it'll be unlit, you think But it only grows brighter You feel it through your body Energy is lost in heat and light-- Ignore the candle and it is brighter, Burning wax onto the floor: Bend down and pick it up You leave the room and it takes over Your entire house is on fire! Pretend you're not alone again And light another candle
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
There is a light...
We have to make decisions: Sometime we end up where we started And our eyes get a little bigger Because we're happy on our own I'm happy with where we made it Point a dont go, Point b is close
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
point a to b
I COME HOME REEKING OF ****** NO ONE NOTICES I THINK MY WORDS ARE LOUDER WHEN THEY'RE IN ALL CAPS I WISH THAT YOU COULD HEAR ME WHY ARE WE ALONE? I'M PRETTY HAPPY BUT I NEED YOU AND I WANT TO BE SOMEONE YOU WANT
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
smells
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
Dead end