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 Dec 2016 Austen girl
aj
spiritdrunk
 Dec 2016 Austen girl
aj
this is an ending

i'm dancing to my swan song
in a room of unlit candles

restless shadows dance despite the
absence of hollowed light

i am so alone yet not
abandoned

my spirit is still
but my body is crying

for my aching heart that is
tired of dying

the californian ******* will keep me up
but i can't keep up with this bluff

oh i am drunk on your spirit
spiritdrunk, spiritdrunk, spiritdrunk
im not cool enough to do drugs lol
 Dec 2016 Austen girl
Andrew T
My friend Greg is musically talented, a singer-like R-Kelly, and because of that he acts like a dog, around women. Who stand by fire hydrants. He plays with his instrument in front of people on the street. And sometimes, the piano too. When Greg plays, he always wears huge sunglasses. That’s because he wants to impersonate Ray Charles. Plus, it’s cheaper than doing ******. Although, he does make a lot of money and he wants to start a band. Band-Aid company. But on a serious note, Greg teaches lessons to his students. They have tiny fingers, so it’s hard for them to reach the keys. But that’s okay because they’re in his pockets. As a musician, he dresses in black clothing. Excuse me, he dresses in African-American clothing. Before shows at open mics, in front of the audience, Greg sometimes throws up. Gang signs. In all honesty, Greg gives a great performance on stage. He just pretends the audience is naked. And then he gives them five and half minutes. As his friend, before he stepped onto the stage, I told him, “break a leg.” He tells me, thank you for pushing me so hard. As he hops around on crutches. Greg’s really good playing the piano, but the audience always gives him a slow clap. But that’s what happens when you play for retards. He considers himself a feminist womanizer. He sleeps with a lot of women. But don’t worry, he always asks for consent, before he roofies your drink. I know this from experience. He’s a good friend though. Once, I was dancing with a girl and I slipped and fell to the floor. Greg rushed over to me and stuck out his hand And I was so grateful for his friendship, until he grabbed the girl’s ***. But you can’t blame him, it was really dark in there, how was he supposed to know that was his sister. Greg loves Shanghai Noon. He’s a huge fan of Owen Wilson. And me. Greg thinks all Asian people look the same. When he saw the Walking Dead Season premiere, he sent a flower-basket to my parents. Greg is so charming. Like the toilet paper. His favorite sport’s team is the Chicago Cubs, his favorite women are the Chicago Cougars.
 Dec 2016 Austen girl
Andrew T
Dance
 Dec 2016 Austen girl
Andrew T
Dance with me,
under a raincloud,
as sunshine bursts,
like schoolchildren;
leaping through the double doors,
of a rustic brick building.
Flowerpots filled to the brim
with cigarette butts, and bad
decisions, ones made
after dancing on the boardwalk,
as the darkness shrinks away,
for the sun brightens and shakes.
Quivers—the world spinning and spinning.
 Dec 2016 Austen girl
Andrew T
At 2:30 a.m., I drink a beer,
as if it is a crushed Ambien.
I light a joint (the parents are gone for the weekend).
My girlfriend is asleep in the basement,
eyes closed, lightly snoring,
the left side of her face is covered in scars
and burn marks.

I look around my room:
white and blue Ralph Lauren shirts
hang from the lampshade,
the collars and sleeves are layered with dust.
The bookcase is littered
with shoeboxes, novels,
and poetry collections.

I take a drag from my joint
and realize my ears are full of static,
as if they had been packed
with black and white TV sets.
There’s the faint sound
of a car
passing by.

The car is a reminder: Civilization,
glass buildings,
happy hour
at my favorite hole-in-the wall
in Chinatown.
I’m naked, but
not totally bare.

All I’m wearing are blue boxer briefs,
as though it is my uniform
for my current occupation
as a poet.
The blinds are open
and I wonder if I open the window and jump out,
will anyone give a ****?

My therapist will probably label me as suicidal,
if I mention that last thought.
I think I’m just restless and idle.
I take another chug from my beer.
I’m hunched over a notebook,
and writing with a blue pen,
not because I think I’m an authentic writer.

But because my computer’s in the basement
and I don’t want to wake her; I love her.
But I can’t stand her critiques, in regards to me.
Maybe I can’t handle the harshness
in her honesty, as if it is a foreign language
coming from a stranger who I’ve known for years.
I’m not sleepy.

I’m scared.
Scared about growing up,
scared about having to stop
giving a ****,
and finally having
to care about
my life.
 Dec 2016 Austen girl
JC
He's mine
 Dec 2016 Austen girl
JC
It never changes,
not that
no matter what
disaster
he falls into
again
and again.
He's mine,
with all
which that
entails.
I see him
always, always
smaller than he is
in real time
in real life.
I carry him
still
in my mind
and memories
as I walk the floor
and wish him
into sleep
and quiet rest.
I cry
softly
in MY sleep
seeing him now
as he is
a boy
not fitting
into the man
he's become,
and dealing
with his discomfort
like the child
he remains
inside.
He's mine.
He always will be.
some things
never change
cannot change
will not change
and he's mine
until I die.
i was not with you
since from my birth
you just showed me a firefly
that went to my blue eyes.
i am an psychotic woman
who can't be myself for long.
i quit my soul ,my friend
its just to aware that
i am everywhere
Crystalline tears
rivers of ink
flow from one's eyes
catch the tear drops
keep'em in your pocket
gather the ink and
write for the world  
be your own witness
as you pick yourself up
keep on going
and move on
crowded hallways
jammed streets
blares shouts sneers
shoves being tread on
shadows passing by
pushed off to the side
hounded and lashed out at
but at the end of the day
be your own witness as
you pick yourself up
and keep on going
and move on
rejection and outcast
numb in the dark
dull eyes staring through
voices droning on
sliding right through you
stuck in the same old
boundaries rules and appearances
nothing acknowledging your
existence
but be your own witness
as you hold your head up
square your shoulders
take a step forward, 1, 2, 3,
keep on going
and move on.
 Nov 2016 Austen girl
Old Soul
As I lay here and think,
I realize it is not you that I want so badly,
It is the feeling I think you might give me,
That I truly crave.

It is that ecstatic feeling
That I can only ever imagine.
The one that lovers get when they meet,
after being separated for a long period of time.

The feeling of passion,
That I have only ever dreamt about.
The one that burns deep inside,
as lovers lay with each other.

To say I love you would be crazy,
But I am in love with this insane idea,
That you might just be the one,
Who could give me the feelings I crave.
 Nov 2016 Austen girl
Old Soul
Today you said something that,
Finally put me over the edge,
That finally made me make up this,
Sick twisted mind of mine.

One simple text was enough,
To flip the switch from on,
Straight to off,
Without a second thought.

Now all day I have been
Thinking, of how I feel,
How I feel free but yet,
Lonely.

You see I think we were made,
To be friends, and we took it too far,
I did not mean to break your heart,
If it helps, I broke my own heart too.

All the others who have caught my eye,
Are no longer on my mind,
It really was the thrill of it all,
That ultimately had me.

Now I am left with this new feeling,
You see I have always been alone,
But this is the first time in my life,
That I have ever felt lonely.
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