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Carley Jan 2015
Suddenly I felt like what
I would imagine an infant would
I am helpless
But when I cry
He comforts me
When I sleep
He admires me
When I laugh
His heart swells with joy
I am helpless
But he won't let anything happen to me.
  Aug 2014 Carley
I awoke
at the crack
of dawn

to a blood red sun
-a bullet hole
in a faded work shirt

with a creak in my bones
a quick kiss and a groan

I thanked her
and slipped out
the back door

before her old man
came home.

r ~ 8/30/14
  |      ; )
/ \
Carley Aug 2014
I forgive you
For breaking my heart
I forgive you
For breaking my trust
I forgive you
For all of your wrongdoings
I forgive you* when I shouldn't
Because I love you
I need you
Like I need air
So I forgive you
Just please
Stop suffocating me.
Carley Aug 2014
"Society is cruel."
The definition of society
Is a body of individuals
Living as members of a community. Individuals.
Society is not cruel.
We* are cruel.
You and me
And every other individual.
Society is the label
We give ourselves as a disguise.
There is no they or them.
There is only you and me.
There is only we.
We are cruel.
Own it.
Series of 4 poems || Spoken word
Carley Aug 2014
Dear God
Strike me with
Instead of love
Let electricity
Course through my veins
And seal them with
Then no fear
Or love
Can cut me open
And destroy me.
Carley Aug 2014
You were curious
I was the cat.
I don't think
much more
needs to be said
about that.
  Aug 2014 Carley
Roberta Day
I read my words
and I’m sickened,
that you had this
effect on me. I read
them and I’m fatigued
by the redundancy.
I have nothing to say
that hasn’t been said
in the same way
only reconstructed
to better play the illusion
of new ideas and
some sort of change.
There is always the basis
the substance of being
the substance being
my overactive feelings
and constant repression
of what makes me alive—
this feeds the depression
and I cry when I think
and I’m dead when I don’t
I’m lying when I speak
and lying when I don’t
I’m fighting every day
my feelings when I
have them, and finding
every day, I have more than
I can fathom, and I can’t
always put into words
how or why I feel things
so I tend to repeat
what comes naturally
and when I reread
I am exhausted by
my own redundancy.
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