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  Nov 2016 Tony Luna
Jodie LindaMae
When I started working fifty hours a week minimum
At eighteen years of age
My father told me he was proud of me
For the first time.
What he didn't know
Was that I had been chasing my depression away
By masking it with exhaustion.
There have been times where I have worked thirteen hour days,
Four days in a row
Only to come home too exhausted to eat.

I consider this a triumph.

I spend my days off thinking too much.
I think about how easy it is to buy a gun in this state,
How I wish it was more difficult
If only to erase one more burden from my mind.
I spend a lot of time buying make up
That I seldom ever wear.
I read every single issue of The Walking Dead comics up to the newest one
In two days
Because my mind frightens me more than fiction.
I think a lot about leaving here;
Not in a way that would constitute a cry for help
But more in a way that sits in my belly
Like liquor on a cold day.
I feel the urge, it is there,
But I simply carry it with me.
A lone candle sits in a dark window
It's flame dancing
Casting inviting glows
She ponders this candle
While she stands in the cold
The warmth it seems to give
To the window so alone
She wants to be there with it
She bets it feels like home
It is visible
From the snowy street
How she wishes she could go inside
Rest her frozen feet
Though this candle glows
It's flame so inviting
A transparent barrier prevents
**It is her unattainable flame
May the unattainable become attainable soon..
  Nov 2016 Tony Luna
mk
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
  Nov 2016 Tony Luna
Stephan


Here in this place where I once played,
midst memories now cast aside
The clouds my worthless life has made,
rain down in teardrops I have cried
Thank you to all of my friends here who have supported and encouraged me. I appreciate each and every one of you.  I hope I have shown you the same kindness you have always shown me. This will be my last for while, I need some time to figure out who I am and how I became that person. Thanks again.
  Nov 2016 Tony Luna
thehiddenwriter
Feel my love,
feel my pain ,
feel me .

Feel my anger ,
feel my sadness ,
feel me .

Feel my screams ,
feel my cries,
feel me .

Feel my skin ,
feel my wounds ,
feel me .

Feel
feel and just
feel me .
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