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taylor-ramey
taylor-ramey
I write to illustrate myself. I write to keep from jumping off the highest thing around me. My goal is to make art. I want to express myself in such a way that others can consume it and digest my feelings. That others may find solace in the company of the miserable. My goal is to write ballads of bastards and beauty alike, and to illustrate my life as it is perceived and persevered by yours truly.
We could hold hands until hell freezes over, And we could dance delightfully until the day is done. We could talk for time eternal, But still I doubt that I’m your one. I feel distraught by small dismissals And abysmal when shot with shouts Deep down I know our chance’s dismal Our rugged road a wretched route A slight smile to stopper doubt’s affliction The price paid with a painful heart But what a deal to forgo the friction To keep from falling all apart. A sinking stomach and belly of lead, I think our expiration’s near. I’m full of ******* frusturation, But overflowing with fleeting fear. For every moment we’re together, Cuddled close for company, I think about the approaching weather The storm that shatters you and me.
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Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
Untitled 4 1/29/17
If I were a bird, I’d escape the cold in the winter, And find love in the spring. Be observed in the summer by lovers Fly free through clouds and dreams And chirp for all the world to hear. If I were a bird, I’d fear not shot nor snake, And traverse the sky for the simple sake. I’d rise high above all problems, Rest in Redwoods tall as towers, And nestle softly in the clouds. If I were a bird, Life would be grand Life would be simple Life would be easy But alas, I am no bird. No wings to carry me, No voice to chirp songs of success I am but a man. With legs plastered to the ground, And a heart too heavy to heave around. So I leave the ballads to the blue jays, And the chorus to the crows, Instead, I type my feels out, So at least a few will know.
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
If I Were a Bird
I lay flat on my bed. The silence is broken only by doors slamming a world away. My eyes, glazed over towards the window. Its three in the afternoon, Yet, it feels like nighttime. Tomorrow, I have another appointment Maybe this time I will get help Maybe this time I’ll **** myself It’s hard to keep pushing forward And I’m tired. I don’t know what to do. Everyone tells me that living is joyous But for me, those moments are too few and far between.
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
Thoughts -- 8/30/16
I lie on my stomach, spine contorted And listen to my fingers flick across the keys My arms tingle from my elbows down, And still I lie and wait For something profound to come to mind For anything that isn’t a cry for help to escape my hands To feel an emotion that isn’t pain My intention is not to be captious But to illustrate the current of my emotions And my current emotions They change like the tide That is, what I’m feeling inside It is more and less than nothingness. The sadness so thick that one could choke Yet the antithetical is just as true There is a numbness that lays deep Beyond my elbows and to my heart A deep depression, Simple, dark. And sometimes I fall apart And rebuild through writing, Label it therapy, Label it art.
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 11:14 AM UTC
Untitled 02 1/29/17
Last night I melted into you - Didn't I? It felt like an eternity It felt like a river flowing Into an intense tranquility Uncertainty tries to unhing my sanity But I know what I know To be true I flowed into you Until we became one And for once - I didn't feel a lone Because I knew - I knew this is where I belonged. -
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
Mutuality of Being
I can feel the gentle, rhythmic breathing And the tepid touch of your skin Soon the sun will rise, And you must go to class But you will mutter an excuse Just to stay a minute more with me I can hear your soft snores, And muffled moans Soon we will succumb to summer, And it’s malicious motives, To bisect your beauty, From my greedy grasp I can smell the shampoo That I will never smell again For I will move, And you will move, A Dispossessed Connection Though our spring may have ceased Our wilted whispers will never wane Though my bed may be devoid I’ll remember where you had lain. I’ll remember our long laughs And your sweet smile, more stunning than the stars I’ll remember our wishful words And the times that were ours.
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May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 4:20 AM UTC
To our love
His mind was a very dark place with very thin, occasional streaks of light, when he managed to think about a future. It was knots and swirls; his mind was twistingly bittersweet, and his smile was too. He is not perfect and even as much love as my eyes held whenever I looked at him, I knew this perfectly; then again, I'm not perfect either. The truest person you could meet, not an ounce hypocritical. Knew his tricks, paths, ways and corners of life, had this talent to get to the darkest corners of your brain without you being aware of the intrusion. I knew my mind did not have an easy entry, but with him... I felt vulnerable, there was no lock in this universe that would click closed if he were the one to be opening the gates, let's not talk about my heart. He's a person you love endlessly or hate passionately, Could be your best friend or your worse enemy, could even make you love and hate him at the same time- but there is no color grey with him. He was a control freak that couldn't be controlled. Responsible for a lot of poetry and well-arranged words, metaphors and similes, analogies and paradoxes. He is not forgotten easily, I also know this perfectly. His mind is addicting, his heart is addicting, his smile is addicting, he's addicting. And I was and still am insomnious. My happiness should not depend on another being, especially one so dark and emotionally unreliable at times, someone so reckless yet thoughtful. I am incredibly guilty. But then again, the heart never listens to the brain.
0
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 7:15 AM UTC
He's Complex
His mind was a very dark place with very thin, occasional streaks of light, when he managed to think about a future. It was knots and swirls; his mind was twistingly bittersweet, and his smile was too. He is not perfect and even as much love as my eyes held whenever I looked at him, I knew this perfectly; then again, I'm not perfect either. The truest person you could meet, not an ounce hypocritical. Knew his tricks, paths, ways and corners of life, had this talent to get to the darkest corners of your brain without you being aware of the intrusion. I knew my mind did not have an easy entry, but with him... I felt vulnerable, there was no lock in this universe that would click closed if he were the one to be opening the gates, let's not talk about my heart. He's a person you love endlessly or hate passionately, Could be your best friend or your worse enemy, could even make you love and hate him at the same time- but there is no color grey with him. He was a control freak that couldn't be controlled. Responsible for a lot of poetry and well-arranged words, metaphors and similes, analogies and paradoxes. He is not forgotten easily, I also know this perfectly. His mind is addicting, his heart is addicting, his smile is addicting, he's addicting. And I was and still am insomnious. My happiness should not depend on another being, especially one so dark and emotionally unreliable at times, someone so reckless yet thoughtful. I am incredibly guilty. But then again, the heart never listens to the brain.
Continue reading...
40
The clock glows a dim green, gently reminding me that the sun will be up soon. I sigh, and continue to type meaningless words on a page that doesn't exist.
0
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
The Clock
Click Click Click Words spew onto the screen, The story of how you make me feel. How my chest aches in anguish At the distance that divides us. How I spent seasons sobbing at the sky How the brightest blue fades Contrasted with your smile. How every “I love you” I send is as sincere as the first. How every “I love you” I receive still makes me melt. How I can measure minutes in thoughts of you. And then. I crush the curious arrow always pointing left, Never letting me be right. Never letting me express myself for fear of being cast aside Funny how that unassuming arrow Holds me back from so much. Click Click Click
0
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 5:42 AM UTC
A Love Untold
Sometimes I wonder if wandering eyes, Can see through my bravado and intrepid disguise.
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Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Alone