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needtocreate
42/F/Southern California I write because I have to. It cleanses my soul. Releases my demons and helps maintain my sanity. I hope I get to read your work as well.
once I was a child but I was never innocent because when my father told me he loved me he did it with a leather belt and a buckle that gleamed each time it struck my already knowing body pounding out years of masculine entitlement I knew there were words he had heard his whole life and in my blistered skin lied the understanding women are less best when subservient and quiet so quiet I was while I buried my head in freshly washed soft sheets and tried to forget that this person who hated me so well also soothed me to sleep told me I was beautiful and that I could do anything so quiet I was he couldn't hear me scream scream for the pain scream for the mother who wasn't opening the door to come rescue me once I was a child but I was never innocent
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Sep 15, 2021
Sep 15, 2021 at 10:22 PM UTC
No Innocence
tight necked tension held in hardened jaws invisible hands clasp around throat years of unspoken words fingers slide swiftly endless rhythmic finger pecks bright screen burning in dark bedroom corners letters flow like a faucet freedom found in syllables assemble emotion in verse paper giving a voice my skin slowly relaxes
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Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 6:15 AM UTC
Paper Voice
in the dry yellow rolling hills of wine county where crickets and cicada sing sweat and memories guided new creation a place for her spirit to rest all gathered on homemade pews strong stones and brilliant quartz the focal point through cracked voices, stories erupted they filled tin buckets with their grief listened to the sound hit the bottom so softly found a whisper of rhythm linked arms and danced with sorrow in a place of peaceful remembrance those moments her nymph spirit was holding all there she was the sky full of stars on that dark night the electric energy in the air with hands clasp tight a united silence for the celebration of her life and a painful goodbye
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Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 6:11 AM UTC
Oli
Put on your music, dance alone. No one is watching let it all go. Free yourself. mind, body, spirit one.
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Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 5:30 AM UTC
Better than Medicine
Lick the Bag I breathe white powder like you breathe air inhale its recklessness heart attack speed racer black pupils dilate electric skin follow lines to paradise scattered conversation shifting eyes late night carnival ride stranger passed out on the bathroom floor rolled up bills scattered on the counter laced with last nights bad decisions empty square plastic bags lick the corners savor the taste of addiction
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Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 7:47 PM UTC
Lick the Bag
-somedays the voices in my head are shouting so loud I can't hear anything else.
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Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 7:40 PM UTC
Bi-Polar
Enough -the cruelest of all words when spoken in silence to an empty room
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Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 2:56 AM UTC
Untitled
Sometimes I am sick of being sick. I crawl into the covers and hope tomorrow is a better day. One where my mind won't be so cruel. Yelling insults only I can hear. I wake up only to find. The bully still living in my mind.
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Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 2:48 AM UTC
Sick
if night had a sound it would be a low chatter the hum of electric cold air that quietly blows crisp linen sheets that speak in the dark freshly painted walls that scream in white television screens that murmur stories flickering light posts that buzz in the night iridescent cicadas that hum in the trees incandescent lovers that talk in secret fingers pecking keys that drum out words if night had a sound it would be a low chatter
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Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 2:38 AM UTC
Night Chatter
***** sheets twenty dollar hotel room she has fire red hair stained yellow teeth reeks of last nights gin and when she opens her legs I see God everything is perfect we have nothing to say
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Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 2:28 AM UTC
Silence