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myles-a-roth-1
American I like grumpy shit
bitter ****** taste, Defeat. On the back of one’s tongue Waiting Stomach acid-like to get you when you are most lulled into your self-centered world to soak you to your core in cold, cold water but you, oh noble you waisting so much time in youthful giddiness about the job well done now see it wasn’t can take it back well, no you cant. but you can move on that is, unless you drown yourself in it defeat.
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Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 7:30 PM UTC
Defeat
Sure it's bad Sure it's bad Sure it's Bad Sure it's bad but I won't stop till I'm ******* blood sure it's Bad
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Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 5:26 AM UTC
And once again...
God it is nice lying alone in a big ol' bed but then again it does get a bit tiring
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Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
It is nice
Regret It's one of those things Get under your skin Splinter-like As ****** off as getting them old-broomstick style Aggravatingly , not Because they're there But rather from how you got them Poor. Life. Decisions. 7pm blackout in the scheme of things. ******* off, or on, maybe. And the worst part always being That You Can Do Everything In your own ********* right mind To forget, or to move on You can change your attitude Your view on life To reflect the "new-and-improved" You. But it will always be there, Regret.
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Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 1:42 AM UTC
Reflections- Infographic
And a bitter trust decrepit debauchery to follow stay tuned in or channel change 6,985 finger-licken flavors choose. Call that pro choice -pro league And never, ever ever whatever you ever do never decide if it's right for you Becuase **** it it is At least that's what they told me
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Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 8:04 PM UTC
Another day
Seldom thoughts flow these days Caught, up in the inky tar and the off-white pages with their lines, black lines separating word from word line from line thought from liquid reality. Or some reality, For words unwritten and thoughts unchecked. Lacking color and opacity, Failure to communicate that type block iceberg.
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Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 3:19 AM UTC
Writer's Block
You don't know what you got 'till it's gone. As clichéd and overused a phrase as anything I have ever heard. And God, how I hate writing the clichéd. But as true, is true, is true you really don't know **** until it leaves you. Humorously enough though, and I mean humorously in the most ironic, sad-sacked way possible it was I who broke it off. In a nice way? Hell no. It was an over-the-phone go **** yourself that at the time I laughed at. Well I still do. But that's only when I'm not looking at those ******* facebook photos of her with another guy. Sometimes I don't understand my own sense of humor.
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Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 3:59 AM UTC
A Love Story (pt. 2)
Cold autumn day, it seemed that the weather decided to skip the fall and move right into a cold and bitter rain. Tapping down on the hood of my jacket and my rather-too-pronounced nose. Stinging ever slightly, I was distracted. By the steam exiting my mouth and the whine of a firetruck racing off into the distance. Distraction was taking me, reminding me as cold and bitter as that rain. I was not there. I was half a year ago with a girl I loved, or perhaps didn't. Together, on a twin mattress listening to the patter of a cold, bitter rain tapping on the window.
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Oct 21, 2011
Oct 21, 2011 at 3:52 AM UTC
A Love Story (pt. 1)
**** stinks but, it is commonly known that without **** you cannot have flowers, and without flowers you cannot have love. But who in the world would want something that they knew came from ****
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Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 2:10 AM UTC
Flowers
I have no inspiration so I walk down my street but being suburbia, I have no inspiration so I drive to the end of town where I can be alone except for the occasional car driving by, and the occasional bird that flies by and perhaps the rabbit that skips through the dry grass waiting for spring to awaken it. I sit next to a barbed wire fence on a little rock crouching, slightly uncomfortable, taking in the moment. Still no inspiration. Slowly the dusty afternoon gives way to a dusty sunset and night eventually takes the land in its purples and reds and blues. And I sit there, shivering in the cold Colorado evening and think. Still no inspiration.
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Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 11:38 PM UTC
Inspiration