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timmy-johnston
South Korean I am no poet, I am no writer.
When the harmonies in my ears died I thought that the rhythm of my heart had simply fallen into syncopated stutters of a life yet to begin. So I waited for my pulse to settle back into the familiar one-and-two-and that they said was normal for a boy my age. But then the wind whispered hollow through the cracks in my skin like stone.
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May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 3:17 AM UTC
Statue
There is nothing beautiful here. There is nothing profound. This is a confession. I've littered my skin with blood ridden callouses and blisters torn apart. I've poisoned my body with chemicals and substances all for the greater good. I've left black inked testaments across my canvas in the name of art. I've stretched my skin with needles and plastic so that I would stick out. I've broken, repaired, shattered, healed, destroyed, salvaged myself to appease the mirror. But there is nothing beautiful here. There is nothing profound. This is a confession. There is nothing beautiful here.
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Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
Self:Loathe
I turn the ring and everything shifts. Bit by bit inch by inch It glides around its track but I'm never satisfied. I twist and turn my perspective evolving. Each pass brings a new image but it's never what I need It's never what I'm looking for Never. So I let go and let it wander free. I let go. And I begin to see.
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
Auto:Focus
I beg you to stay right where you are. For my sake please. If you take one step towards me I'll take two for you And drag my heart across the shore to stand beside you.
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Torn
It wasn't the promises slung around my neck by your arms rigid with acceptance and an unfamiliar love. It wasn't the sticky skinned summer nights wrapped in our friends sheets stealing undeserved kisses. It wasn't backstage buried beneath piles of wood or sorted between hunks of metal next to the man I could never be. It wasn't a ****** spotlight or an applause that really wasn't meant for me or even for us, but for them. It wasn't a song written by a boy who never stood a chance standing in the shadow of a blonde haired blue eyed somebody. It was finding solace in hearts and minds that like mine were not suited for the monochromatic day to day parking lot prison breakout of the afternoon. Yours that were too distracted by the galaxies carved between our bones pressed so tightly together and the symphonies inked between our teeth.
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
Once
A soft breeze tickled my nose The tangerine popsicle dripping down my cheek. I was lying in my backyard Alone Staring at the clouds. Traces of lilacs danced in the air And my skin tingled above the grass. He wasn't next to me this time. He said he'd visit. We both knew he didn't mean it. -trj
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
Promise
It’s the sound of old, pop-punk blaring through my car speakers at two in the morning. It’s the way my breath becomes visible late at night. It’s the sound of our shoes on the woodchips in the park. It’s the smell of grape Swisher Sweets in our hair and the taste of ****** tobacco on our tongues. It’s the oversized hoodies. It’s the neon beanies. It’s the energy drinks. It’s the last minute bonfires. It’s the deep talks on the swings. It’s the way your hand felt in mine. It’s the way you felt in my arms. It’s the sound of our laughter, dripping with the inevitability of the future. It’s the feeling of growing up. It’s the feeling of not wanting to grow up. It’s the changing leaves. It’s the morning frost. It’s the end of summer. It’s the start of tomorrow. It’s over. -trj
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Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
August:Nostalgia
They say three months is too soon That it isn't enough time That it's impossible. I say you've never seen her in the morning, just as she's waking. You've never seen her fighting to stay awake in the middle of the night or heard the sudden rumble of her snoring. I say you've never seen her eyes when she's worried because you're running a fever of 104 but refuse to go to the hospital. Or seen them light up when you improvised an edible meal for once. I say you've never tasted her tears Or heard her laugh Or kissed her scars. I say you've never thought about a life without her only to realize you couldn't. -trj
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Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Her
He's special, they said. I could taste the greed dripping from their teeth. He's gifted, they said. Their lust, suffocating. He's talented, they said. Hands on my shoulders, pushing and pulling. You're special, she said. Her pride comforting me. You're gifted, she said. Her love protecting me. You're talented, she said. Her arms around me, gentle and firm. -trj
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
Mother
Though the land begs the waves to stay washed gently upon its shores The moon beckons the sea away and carries you from me forever more. -trj
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May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
Departure