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jonathan-howard
jonathan-howard
Poetry Major in Vermont. Lover of pizza, laughter and dogs.
I forgot to bring paper; on set there was a broken pen. When words spill from mouth to page, magic begins to transcend.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
Imagination
Leaking down the side, buildings melt inside walls. Mocking drug induced families under ceilings among red, glazed eyes. Kites fly, and green grass snaps under a stiff shoe. Sewage creeps from beneath the field where kids play. Geese, in V formation. Leaves drift to the yellow grass. Souls forsaken by time. Fenced in field Surrounded by brick rising, expanding into the past thirty years. The building is leaking and still rising.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Forgotten in Time
Why did you burn me, Fire? Constantly screaming, jagged in breath, while desperate for attention-- Where's your dignity? You've been asking for attention, reaching for our hands, snapping towards scorched palms you bubbled, inflated with infection. I flinch when you spark back to creation. You've cracked within pressure, Fire, molten at the core, insensitively lost, but you, Fire, you lost yourself within heated monetary discussions-- You seek for growth, demolishing the path you take.  I can only blame myself though, Fire. I'm the one who encouraged, blew on your embers, empowering your ideals, starting rampages that engulfed forests and plains. Leaves dared to love you, now burnt-- You've lost yourself, Fire. Will you ever let your guard down again?
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
Scorched
The amber bottle rested on the cozy while you tossed back ***** Crackling over ice, popping to the warm quake tumbling down your throat. Voices to the right bounced, shot ***** into pockets, towards the corner sulking after being hit. You've sipped your dignity, having an allergic reaction, your eyes cursed, blood stained glasses diced palms, attached with glass in hope of feeling numb.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Cozy
I love you. You make me become cotton, above the wind, effortlessly gliding upon rolling meadows of marigolds. Wait You're the cold snap before the morning sun, always biting and freezing loose particles of moisture in the air. No, wait You've brought my senses back, like rewiring a lamp and giving it a fresh bulb, illuminating the surrounding shadows with a smirk, smile. Actually, wait. You've made my mind out of confusion, changing the pace, lying on high tide forgetting the time we've spent out at sea. Please wait, I've just wanted to hang on, I miss feeling like I'm whole again around the puzzle piece that caught my attention. Love and wait For me.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 1:13 AM UTC
Untitled
I showered last night, wiping away What you encouraged me to do. Did you forget? I didn't want to go. Sweatpants rolled up to my knees, hair flat, cuffs rolled up to my elbows. The snow beneath my feet crunched while I texted you. Each word filled me with reject, each step wanted to pivot and escape the man down the hill. But, you said it would be good for me. On the contrary, this tore you apart, my love. I babysat the intoxicated man that offered me wine, his shrill of a voice split open my skull, quaked my brain and stabbed my frontal lobe, unaware. His height represented my will and want to walk this distance and meet him: short, and a disappointing impression. But I can't get through my mind, why, why we would think we could want this. I blame myself, the want for more, drinking intoxicating flirtation that drives us all, to jump, to want more, but that thrill poisons the mind to crave for attention, immediate love we need to find in ourselves. I can't tell you the dreams I've had, for fear you might sprint, at Olympic speed, onto another life, another man while I wait, wait for you to return to my arms, because our future is a proposal. You, down on one knee, flooding my eyes, rushing down cheeks as we say "I do!"
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
Untitled
Remind me again when the funeral is. My suit needs to be dry cleaned to abolish moth ***** Also, mother gave up and drowned in tissues lined with aloe. Thats all I can smell above her coffin.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
Aloe
They've become a rainforest. your eyes drip off of leaves, pouring from tips of branches- scrunched in, your shoulders dictate stories of pain, with knees curled in, knuckles white, clenched and sweaty, whimpers escape lips, reliving memories: mother stalking closets, slamming doors, stomping steps, shouting obscenities but- The belt is put away, rib cages no longer bruised, all left behind. Take a step; Take a breath; Let me in.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Can you trust me?
Have you grown tired of being worn? Hung loosely without care, I apologize for ignoring the wrinkles on your torso like a frown forming across the lips, neglected in ignorance like the iron trying to iron, not on. Do you like being worn, sweater? the coat hanger, your straight jacket, restraining movement, limiting use Because your attitude tore holes in seams disappointing my skin, breaking the warm, Allowing the cold to break the stitches, Slowly unraveling, but you're still here, In the back, pondering usefulness, sweater. I don't know if I'll see you again, But the moth ***** are collected memories, Patching up holes, to make you whole.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
Worn, attitude torn