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johnathon-n
johnathon-n
American So like yeah, writings and things.
I don't believe in God But if I killed myself Do you think I could still get into Heaven? I never harmed anybody I never did a thing You called me a saint once Said that I saved you I am already stuck in Limbo But if I killed myself Would it still be a sin?
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Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
Untitled
I ****** a girl on Valentine's night She asked me to put on my favorite song. I played something called “Leave Before The Lights Come On” She asked if I would leave in the morning I told her I would still be there. I told her I loved her as I fell asleep. She was gone when I woke up.
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Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
Irony
Dirt trail to the left of the parking lot An area of cars sitting while their owners visit the dead at the cemetery to the right Dusk is upon us as the parking lot is empty We hop a small fence and walk that trail Over brambles of spiny plants just as dead as the bodies behind us Amidst all of that I find a single sunflower stalk with its flower as bright as day I cut it down and take it with me
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Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
Left of Death
I found a carnation placed so gently on the lid of my recycling bin How could I resist not taking it It belonged to no one Left out in the cold to slowly wither I picked it up and brought it into my home It sits on my dining room table in a glass coke bottle How fitting that such a flower found in the trash be held in trash.
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Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
Trash flowers, beauty discarded.
Sitting alone at a coffee shop at 10pm when you have nothing else to do is an awfully boring thing. All you do is order a coffee that's too hot to drink right away and just let it sit for awhile untouched. All you do is chain smoke your brand new pack of cigarettes you bought with the lighter you had to walk back to the store to buy because you thought you already had one. You don't even know how long is worth staying there, till you finish your drink? Till you run out of smokes? Or until it closes? Sitting alone at a coffee shop at 10pm when you have nothing else to do is awful, especially when you realized you finished writing this at 9:58.
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Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
10PM
This alcohol fueled rampage of both love and hate kills me inside It’s like no matter what I do I always end here A drunken stupor of thought both good and bad Usually just bad Regardless of what I do I always end here I can try to change my ways I have in fact But I still ended here On my knees, on my side, curled into a ball; A sobbing mess A sobbing mess whose happiness could be temporarily found at the bottom of a bottle But as I throw that bottle against the wall, shattering its exterior as my interior has as well I wallow in my own self pity.
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Bottom of a Bottle
Can’t I just run away? Run away to you Hide in your room Either under your covers or the piles of clothing you leave everywhere Can’t I just run away? Be with you Among the mess and clutter you call home We could just sit and talk Or I could hold you We could create our own reality One in which we live in the war zone of our love Fighting everyone else as they are our enemy, trying to keep us apart
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Run Away
Step by step I head closer to the water I look upon its vastness with great despair Each step I take brings me closer to my death I taste the salty brine of the ocean’s air I can hear the crashing of its waves The water rushes past my feet It’s cold enough that it makes it not feel like summer Another wave passes me by this time I was ready for it I walk deeper into the water It feels like it’s been hours since I started but it’s been only minutes I’m waist level now The brisk water flows past me The sun is setting I want to go further but know if I do I won’t come back
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
Cold Water in the Dead of Summer
Pray for my veins as I slice them so carefully Skill like a surgeon as my cuts are so precise Let the liquid flow from my arms Just like the tears that drop from my eyes I put down the blade, and wrap myself up Tell myself it’s the last time That I’m done I know I lied to myself that night For every other night I do the same thing I guess I feel as if I open myself up the thing that hurts most will leave
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Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
Pray for my Veins
And no amount of alcohol can make me forget the way it was to hold you I still can’t bear the fact you’re gone, it’s been two months and two weeks Two months and two weeks of total hell Two months and two weeks of me hating myself I made a promise to my friend that I wouldn’t drink away my problems anymore I’m finding it hard to cope with the day to day activities as this and that just constantly reminds me of you It’s been two months and two weeks of feeling dead But before that it was two years of feeling like I could take on the world It’s been two months and two weeks since we ended it and no amount of alcohol can make me forget the way it was to hold you
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Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
Two Months and Two Weeks