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jacqueline-jack-maby
American How do people even write bios honestly? My name is Jack and I like words.
A Baby-Boomer walks so freely through the town he pays no mind to those suffering around “Why don’t poor people just get jobs,” he asks himself, “And stop bellyaching? And women need to shut their mouths and stop complaining the wage gap is a fallacy they invented to work less. trust me I am a man who would understand the oppressed, a man who has always been gainfully employed, in fact if you ask me I am simply annoyed that others dare to call me privileged just because I can afford more than they do (well that and the fact that because of my face I can be sure that I will not be chased by the police unrightfully or a strange man most frighteningly).” He walks alone in the darks of night and yet his bones do not creak with fright for he knows the world respects his white skin, his wife, and the money he keeps only for him. On his wall hangs a college degree he got from a school in 1983 “I don’t understand why the millennials are such whiners pull yourself up by your bootstraps while you’re still minors, yes we ruined the economy, but it’s not that hard if you just stop focussing on being so avant-garde and get a job, who do you think you are? Just kids trying their best to be what they are? Disgusting excuse, sell your soul to businesses, it’s what Reagan would do.” As he puts his money to bed at night in the house he bought when the market was still alright he wonders why kids these days seem so tired and hungry for praise.
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Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
The Baby-Boomers (inspired by the Canterbury Tales)
I am alone surrounded and composed entirely of stardust and fragments of broken dreams- it is exactly how I planned it to be neat but not in a rigid way with implied discomfort just in a way where it is obvious I tried my best The walls- finally stripped of needlepoint prayers and instead layered with every word that has ever danced from my mouth the smooth ones and the ones that taste like acid nothing is forgotten or laid aside My body- a temple to myself desecrated in the most holy way a sacrifice of skin decorations of valor in a war against myself it is quiet every thread I have ever plucked from the seams rips through the air as I come apart again spilling tar and galaxies across everything I have ever known- a mess I am alone but not in the way I am supposed to be
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Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
Dissociation
If we're being honest I'd tell you that I wish we were still together and that some days I watch the world twist and burn and fall on me breaking into a million pieces breaking me with it and that it doesn't scare me anymore also I can't spell Once, I forgot how to sleep and didn't remember for 10 days and one day I forgot to eat and didn't remember for three days but didn't care Some days I can't stand being in my own skin some days I try to rip it off I flap my hands and bite my nails And I'm afraid not to pray One time, I cried for 12 hours One time, I passed out from a panic attack (Okay more than one time) Some days I feel like there are bugs under my skin I WANT TO SCREAM but we're not being honest today so when I'm asked I'll say I'm doing okay
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Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
Honesty isn't always the best policy but we're all entitled to our own opinions
Her skin has yet to get used to the burn so she tries her best to pretend it doesn’t hurt She stopped asking about her husband long ago and the screams of agony still haunt her She whispers alone at night “I love him, I love hime, I love him” but she knows it isn’t true she remembers the circumstances of their union and tells herself that lying is a sin so maybe she’ll feel his touch again and maybe he’ll even leave scars from the burn something to remember him by but he’ll be gone before she’ll see him She can’t even remember what he looks like but she tells herself she can “I love him, I love him, I love him” but she can only love a man
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Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
The Devil's Wife
I knew I shouldn’t drink Not in the teenager ‘I should be                   responsible’             way, because honestly            I didn’t care about that                                      About not disappointing my parents because they can tell me what they want              but everyone drinks                     and no one waits until they’re twenty-one and I know they weren’t exceptions               I knew I shouldn’t drink in the               “everyone in my family is an alcoholic and I will be too                          it’s a hereditary disease once I start                                                  I won’t stop” sense and in the                     “emotional drinking is a bad sign                              and binge drinking still counts as alcoholism (at least I’m pretty sure it does)” sense           but still I drank           when I was angry sad at parties bored             because what else was I going to do?                                                    History repeats itself               and I am no exception So the first time I had drunk                 I was *** I mean…. you get it                    who cares really I don’t really remember it                         I remember blacking out halfway through and waking up somewhere else                    but I don’t remember ever saying                                       "no”           or “stop”                        or anything like that I just remember it all being hazy                                      and if I went to another party I wouldn’t even recognize him                      but I don’t go to parties anymore and I know                                                                                               I shouldn’t drink
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Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
Some Stupid Poem
I knew I shouldn’t drink Not in the teenager ‘I should be                   responsible’             way, because honestly            I didn’t care about that                                      About not disappointing my parents because they can tell me what they want              but everyone drinks                     and no one waits until they’re twenty-one and I know they weren’t exceptions               I knew I shouldn’t drink in the               “everyone in my family is an alcoholic and I will be too                          it’s a hereditary disease once I start                                                  I won’t stop” sense and in the                     “emotional drinking is a bad sign                              and binge drinking still counts as alcoholism (at least I’m pretty sure it does)” sense           but still I drank           when I was angry sad at parties bored             because what else was I going to do?                                                    History repeats itself               and I am no exception So the first time I had drunk                 I was *** I mean…. you get it                    who cares really I don’t really remember it                         I remember blacking out halfway through and waking up somewhere else                    but I don’t remember ever saying                                       "no”           or “stop”                        or anything like that I just remember it all being hazy                                      and if I went to another party I wouldn’t even recognize him                      but I don’t go to parties anymore and I know                                                                                               I shouldn’t drink
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I scrape away layers of my skin on my legs with tweezers, often until blood is drawn, trying to yank off the imperfections I feel, blistered and pocked with red scabs I will later pull off, a physical manifestation of what I want to do inside littered with imperfect feelings, thoughts, digging and shredding into perfectly smooth and pristine layers of emotions and ideas ripping up what is good into an incoherent mess trying to reach the dark spots underneath, I can’t see them, but I know they’re there lurking and waiting to come out to the surface the agitation rises if I can’t get something out,- I need to get something out, smalls whimpers of pain, hardly noticeable, until finally a deep exhale it’s over. Legs riddled with bleeding holes, aching but content, until tomorrow.
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
Pluck
I know things will change religion class will end & four advil and 6 hours later my headache will go away I will get the fire back in my veins write again feel full again I will start taking credit for my poems Everything will fade back into background noise & I will sleep again My prayers will stop sounding rehearsed & my lists won't only consist of "Get out of bed" I'll talk to my dad and angry tears will stop burning paths down my cheeks I will read again and rest with the lights of Stop flinching so much and it will be okay Again
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Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
Again
If you don’t know the answer it’s C If you don’t care if cheating is immoral anymore it’s normal If some days the idea of shoving a pencil into your flesh is tempting                  It’s high school Welcome to the flawed world of unhealthy habits and competition a parade of bent and folded bodies we show off graphite scratched skin Future leaders stand like statues covered in graffiti among ripped canvases and unfinished art projects Waiting to be beautiful Friend groups made up of alternatively muddy and magnificent water colors of scars and secrets they hide from their parents, drawn on their skin, settled in the cracks of broken frames hiding wolverines under shattered glass and splintered wood It’s not beautiful to be broken, but outside of here, it’s beautiful to be alive and be what you are so turn scars into lightning bolts and let stories drip down your chin in vibrant colors you can’t see Our best traits are tattooed on our backbones hidden under layers of weather-worn skin and clothes         maybe we can't see them, but they keep us standing up So maybe it is all a competition or a lie or maybe we’re not real at all But maybe that’s okay Because neither is any of this
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Chaos and Bad Transitions
When I was fifteen I listened to a religion teacher say “Maybe” there should be a queer holocaust and I pretended it didn’t hurt me, the same way I pretended when she said trans people mutilate their bodies by becoming who they are when she misgendered Leelah Alcorn when she called asexuals freaks of nature when the other queer kid got sent to therapy for having the audacity to even try to start a GSA and suggesting that maybe everyone deserves to feel safe here and my friends think I’m overreacting “It’s not a big deal!” “Get over it!” “Stop trying to be so special, you should be expecting it at a Catholic school, this is just what religion is like” Is it? Head down Head down Voices down, you can get expelled for disagreeing with the archdiocese Whisper in the hallway about all the girls with pregnancy scares who believed that love was the best contraceptive Is that what Jose Gomez is teaching us? No it doesn’t hurt to watch my friends cry about boys who yell ****** down high school hallways No it doesn’t hurt when my friend asked me “what would your kids even call you?” No it doesn’t hurt to be like this Or at least I can pretend it doesn’t
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Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
Nothing Hurts
You told me you were suicidal and I wanted to tell you how much it hurt to be a person how my skin and bones ached to part of infinity a never ending spiral of never again having to say “I’m sorry” after coming out You told me you were suicidal and I wanted to tell you I wasn’t qualified to give advice on the matter of life and death I have seen too many bare mattresses to understand what home really is am I just an ever changing notion of how a problem student might look like some futuristic idea of the changing tides being pushed and tormented by the moon no I am not qualified to tell you to keep living You told me you were suicidal and I remembered the page in my ninth grade diary saying the same followed by the words “I don’t know what my name is, not the one they gave me, but the one I’m going to give myself The one they won’t put on my grave, but the one I’ll put on my heart, the one God will call me in heaven and the one mom will deny I have. I don’t know our name, and I think I want to die.” You told me you were suicidal and I typed and retyped messages, playing in my head the ways you had already left and didn’t want to make this one about me,so I said “Call a hotline”. You told me you were suicidal and my bones ached remembering the pain of what it is to be a person.
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
To be a person