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keele-grace
My name is KeeLe and I go to art school
My poetry is nothing but half-sense Incaffeinated run off sentences The result of a rushing mind, Drained from windful mornings in the surf, The tide beating against my board and my body, By the time you walk out the ocean You're exhausted, And your brain is too fried to think about work the next morning, Or the guy who keeps leading you on, Or going out to a party later that night, It's all just pits and potholes, Annoying little bumps in the road As I drive home in my 4runner that's as old as me, I rather stick with the board on the top of my tanning lotion combined with worn down leather car, I rather feel the rythmous beat of the waves against my skin Than a bunch of sweaty bodies who reak of alcohol, So I'll stick with my run off sentences, my incaffeinated mind, and my board under me.
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
44th ave
You're wasting your breath Just standing there finding another reason to ***** at me- After inferring a ***** onto me, when I said I wasn't feeling up to go out, You nag on my driving, When I'm the one driving you around, So find another reason to ***** at me- If nagging me about not putting the toliet paper roll on the hook helps you sleep better, Okay. But let's remember whose going.
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
Are you seriously ******** at me for not putting the toilet paper on the dispenser?
When I die fill my coffin with flowers And when my feed are cold hold them even if you hate feet I hate the thought that your lips were on someone else's skin And I hate the thought that I didn't get to you soon enough I was always the jar that was ******* on too tight Couldn't get me open Not like I'm too good for everyone But because I was like the first dollar bill I ever got That I didn't spend for years because it would take away Maybe i just babble My words make more since when caffeine is rushing through my body If it was up to me I'd fold the states as if they were sheets and bring you closer to me I've met a ton of lovely poets A ton of beautiful dancers Who dance as if their bodies are translating Shakespeare when their minds aren't completely there If my blood could cure cancer then I'd donate daily and in as many quantities as possible
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
Cold Hands