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sii-1
sii-1
English I think I can listen to Third Eye Blind forever / / "Poetry brings back old memories and makes them new to dream"- A better poet than me
I came, I lied, I learned to do both and better Poked at people’s smiles and made some myself. This was college, I woke, I drank, I explored Stared at girls, got caught, stared at myself and got fatter, Smoked, laughed, and refused to throw up. Walked to class but I did not go through the door Turned around happy, dizzy and hung over Outside, Gazed at the sun and forgot I was one. Ignored my phone, fathers calls and mother Spoke up my lies, tied lead to my feet. Met a beautiful demon girl and did some lines. Woke up again to *** naked letters, I went to the beat Listened to music, made some of my own Wrote poems that rhymed too much, sent them to her Drove my car on weekends running away with miles Visited her, the demon, it made me smile some more More *** she gave me pills, and we cuddled Alive, long and strong. She gave me love letters She broke my heart cheated and ran for cover in France. I lost my mind my grades, no love for my body My hands, I still had some rubbers and No one left. I used them once that summer More coke, **** pills, I hung out with friends Thoughts of suicide all the lead the lies Thought run away, die, run away, die Luckily I had friends.
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Jun 19, 2011
Jun 19, 2011 at 3:22 PM UTC
Freshmen year
Today I stopped smoking cigarettes I decided, looking at the sky I was thinking about your smile And how I’m already breathless We were sitting by our open doors Two feet from our two worlds Filling the in-betweens with smoke Clouds, through I would explore.
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Apr 29, 2011
Apr 29, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
Today I stopped smoking cigarettes
I wish to lose My current self, the I In every one of my senses In the page. Without shaping the unlined White columns of endless space And possibility Where I may come to find My own absence The same when I am not alone
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Apr 12, 2011
Apr 12, 2011 at 12:46 PM UTC
the I in every page
I have a guitar, There’s a missing string. It snapped in my fingers,     And in the silence I looked up hearing someone sing, She had a pretty face but did not notice me. I shaped her voice into my fingers to be felt by their ring. Her sound missed the notes that came from her pretty face, together we could leave or play off our missing chords, and for the silence she had a pretty face. I strummed into her I swear I tried, to play her into life, I was a chord shy
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Apr 1, 2011
Apr 1, 2011 at 8:50 PM UTC
She will be loved.
If I could be written How wonderful, Rather to be the writer Struggling. A piece of ink and emotion Hopefully noticed, Or even better A piece of bliss Understated, Written by someone Who gets it.
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Mar 30, 2011
Mar 30, 2011 at 7:07 AM UTC
If i could be written
My fingers hurt their bleeding? on an empty screen. drops of words I never type in time I only think of them 20 minutes late 20 minutes later My lips numb it's bleeding? it has no use anyway, I only say useless remarks and they're all the same My temper is like my faith gone and just a bunch of lies. my time is something I don’t want to write about it’s all been planned I guess I’m looking for more? a new word after another word more laconic than what most could think to use.
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Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
laconic
Nothings like the movies is like love. Love isn’t what we see on a screen it doesn’t happen that way. It just brings out feelings, some times we like them the right amount, others days we try to fit them to our lives to play them, like our eyes see inside that little screen, or maybe that grand view for a screen. Were small inside our brains our hearts smaller than our two closed fists, it’s a wonder how feelings fit inside them. Our feelings there smaller than the screen. And people still act out there lives and play to meet a scene, that could bring out feelings as big as the ones we feel when watching a movie. Love was made for action. Now Ready CUT. And the screen is gone, and the world is in front of you
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Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 3:08 PM UTC
Nothing like love
I like you some days There were days when I liked you a lot I liked the elation of the plot of finding out If you liked me too. I liked how you liked putting your hands on me I liked grabbing them Even thought they were so ruff I liked it all too much so I stopped. But I kept a spark I always did that with girls after I liked them After it was too much. I kept the spark I have for you incase it could become a fire At more than just my will. But I never liked the sparks I kept But yours it keeps my will. I like the spark I keep for you .And I still always like you
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Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 11:14 AM UTC
I like you some days
My castle has gutters and windows with right angles. But they don’t make me feel well, because they're not perfect, Just a slush of mathematics That don’t have an echo Of the poetry. If the world would let me, I would take them off. And sleep somewhere else wake up to watch the inside freeze. I can’t make the plants grow since I leave my cigarettes half un-ash-ed Sometimes they catch fire and redo growths delay. My castle has gutters and I leave it without a soul, So I can’t be the one to claim the mistakes I’ve made. with lonely days.
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Mar 14, 2011
Mar 14, 2011 at 6:26 AM UTC
My castle has gutters
I’d write about nothing to describe what’s life changing Take a mood and call it A million things Maybe too beautiful, But mostly too much I write to feel more Of myself By writing for another While trying to not Express things worth losing That I keep with myself through writing But mostly it’s not enough
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Mar 2, 2011
Mar 2, 2011 at 9:11 AM UTC
but mostly