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kelsey-doolittle
kelsey-doolittle
Muse: / Carried by a wayward wish / / to hold on to something still / / which steadies my achy bones / / while it moves my soul at will
Each stone laid Separate but together Layers and layers Of constructed existence The rain seeps through The slippery spaces of divide Touching every surface Recognizing its existence In case they themselves forgot What it means to suffer And the division between The top and the accumulation Of rainwater on the bottom
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 4:39 AM UTC
System
I was in the mood for salt, though I knew you were delicious I became deaf to your music though I was once tuned to your frequencies my nose was clogged like a sickness which made me immune to your scent my senses became senseless and thus I traveled Looking to wake them up again
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
Dear Old Loves whose Hearts I broke
my lips are frozen but you are beautiful The only way I am able to express is to write it in icing with a single candle in the middle to represent the birth of the amalgamation of silly, musical, poetic musings which float like rain clouds waiting to be opened again
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
Happy Birthday
I was protecting a treasure I was sharing a meal I was hoping to learn the phases of the moon each of these snapshots so distant from that little girl and yet her image replaced my own as I allowed their opinions to matter She radiated a different kind of beauty then back when her toes got stepped on she learned to tie her shoes but now in this light that knowledge slips away from me like a sheer scarf, the illusion of comfort and the treasure is exposed as I am, raw and real but feeling like contorted plastic wrapped around these pictures of stories I used to tell myself before she even knew how to tell fables
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Self Esteem
I interpreted the silence as awaiting, anticipation I stretched to your vessel swimming on my expanse of flowing tears and tongue in the hopes your boat would capsize and sink into me but you did not fall in my direction my compass was wrong and now I am lost in my own desperate sea
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Miss Communication
The dimly lit doorway into a place where you only spend five minutes and five bucks the place between lost and I’m willing to lose it all the highway, a tongue and this, just a taste bud the simple reward of sweet combined with the punishing truth that this is the last stop before the end this is where I find what I’m looking for
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
My odd love of gas stations
reminder of the cold comfort smell of the basement the mystery of shelves and shelves the times and the heights and the smoke drifting up in the distance which later we breathed into our lungs as purposeful recognition endless padding and falling our feet like pedastools showcasing unrecognized art which we donate to the second-hand store only to buy back later what I’m hungry for now will probably eat me until I reverse and find the path which lead me to this story which I told and found repeating to the walls which hold our weary arms stretch marked from grasping tight to what we found important
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
Lessons learned
The leftover scraps of that meal we shared so long ago turns over and over like a cycle in the dryer leaving the smell of that rotting sweet the bone which I buried and wish to retrieve I, so willingly, would spend hours trying to crack the code crack the egg cook it all again feed me feed me tie the sinew of my flesh to your inspired on fire meat and potato recipe hard to tell if this hunger is a want or a need
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
Muse
Round and Round Spinning wheels Like the tops on top of counter tops never end again and again and suddenly stop the circle breaks left to roam these pieces make wholeness taste so puzzlingly ornate
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Turning Point
I am wrong to call you home home on wheels wheels I can't stop I was wrong to call her home her home was lost and I was lost with it "Don't paint your body" "Only paper for coloring" I am not wrong, I am not I am not wrong, I am not I will let my hands catch all the tears which wash the blood from my stained body and use those tears to paint a new body a new vessel which I will call home
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
Vessel