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Anonymous Aug 2014
I spend far too many nights sleeping with empty bottles
That once held the liquor I drown my sorrows in
I sleep far too little
The baggage under my eyes is so apparent
That a permanent shadow resides beneath my hollow eyes
I spend too much time loving all the wrong people
And loving nobody at all
I stay out till 5am with people I don't care much for
Just because I know they can offer me everything I want;
Drugs and alcohol.
I wake up with cuts and bruises,
And sometimes with no recollection of my past night
I slit my flesh open out of bordem
And I kiss my whiskey bottle more than any boy or girl I have ever dated
I am in love with freeing myself from my mind
With the high liquor and drugs offer
But when I am awake and sober
I always realize that I'm never really "free"
'Life'... it's a trap
And no amount of ***** and drugs will set you free
Well, that is as long as breath is still willing itself
In and out of your pathetic body
Anonymous Jul 2014
I looked into your eyes
And found a love so deep
It made fairytales seem possible


That was a lie
Because I'm an emotionless monster
I will look at you like I love you
But I will never love you
people like me do not love.
  Jul 2014 Anonymous
JJ Hutton
You can get used to anything--merciless debt, infidelity, death--anything, the photojournalist thinks as he stares out his open hotel window to the beach where two boys lay covered with white sheets.

The bombs fell an hour earlier. Upon impact they didn't so much make a sound as absorb it, syphoning off laughter over mimosas in the first floor cafe, blurring the start-stop of traffic into a shapeless background hiss. He was out there when it happened, on the beach, walking his morning walk.

From one hundred yards he took in the flash, the upheaval of sand, reaching for heaven and then, all at once, subject to gravity's retreat. He knew there would be a second bomb, like when you're cutting a tomato, and you look at your finger then to the knife, and think, I'm going to cut myself, and a couple slices later fulfill the prophecy.

He didn't rush to the boys. He got his camera out of the bag, grabbed the lens, adjusted for distance, for the wane morning light. Boys screamed and ran. He wasn't sure how many, four, five. The second bomb hit. One boy, smaller than the others, rode the sand upwards and back down. The photojournalist thought he tried to get up, but he wasn't sure.

He knew better than to rush over. An unidentified person pointing a vague object at the children on a satellite feed would garner backlash. So he waited, surveying the slight waves break, the gulls continuing flight.

Parents, people he assumed to be parents, moaned in an unfamiliar language. Their sounds though, both guttural and sharp, said all. He approached. A man picked up the smallest boy, his lifeless limbs, doll-like and pierced with shrapnel, hung off to the side.

He took twenty-five shots from behind the lifeguard's post, using the telephoto zoom. He lowered the camera and made eye contact with the father.

Now, in his hotel room, there's an urgent knock at the door. A voice shouts. The email sends. He drops his laptop in the bag with the rest of the gear. A taxi pulls into the roundabout outside.

When he lands he's not sure if he's fractured his ankle or just sprained it. He limps to the door, climbs in, says, "Airport."

"Maa?" the driver says.

The photojournalist punches the seat. The father of the boy, along with three other men, approach.

"Maa?"
Anonymous Jul 2014
3ws
Darling I can’t find a word to describe you…
But I can find three
Overpriced. Airport. Coffee.
You have an inflated self ego like the over priced liquid
Airports try to pass off as coffee
The brew tastes as watered down as your originality
And honey if I’m honest
I shouldn’t even compare you to coffee
Because that might be the greatest sin of all
Anonymous Jul 2014
There is a secret about me
None of you will ever know it
None of you would ever guess it
Because you see what you want to see
Perception is everything my dear
And I am quite afraid none of you know
Exactly what you are looking for
When you speak to me
There fore my facade is impenetrable
Anonymous Jul 2014
I didn't go to your funeral
I tried to, but I couldn't
And I swear I still have nightmares
I can hear the way your hollow casket sounds
As dirt is piled above it
And the reality sinks in
I never let you go
Anonymous Jul 2014
People ask me what it’s like to find women sexually attractive
Often I’m an outcast for liking the same ***
But in the lesbian world I’m an outcast for liking men too
It’s confusing really
There is no way to explain the way women are
And why they are so appealing to me
Not only is their outside appearance alluring and beautiful
But their insides are vulnerable, broken, and insecure
I like that, seeing a women shattered because of society
I like the honesty that encloses them in a blanket of insecurity
Men on the other hand
Well, they are strong and handsome on the outside
And a bit more emotional than you’d expect on the inside
There really isn’t a reason why I’m attracted to both sexes
I just am, I was born this way I suppose
I say I suppose because I am not quite sure
how the whole human nature and sexuality thing works
Men and women are both appealing
Their minds differ so much that I crave both
Call me selfish;
Because I am
I crave to know human nature in any form it comes
Man or woman, I will not judge
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