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  Jul 21 fukk
JayceeJellies
I'm sorry,
I've done it again.
I'm sorry,
It still hurts deep within.
I'm sorry,
I only do it to know that I'm alive.
I'm sorry,
I know how you feel inside.
I'm sorry,
I have a scar to hide.
I'm sorry,
I failed you that night.
  Jun 27 fukk
Sylvia Plath
'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy:
train tracks always meet, not here, but only
    in the impossible mind's eye;
horizons beat a retreat as we embark
on sophist seas to overtake that mark
    where wave pretends to drench real sky.'

'Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's devil is another's god
    or that the solar spectrum is
a multitude of shaded grays; suspense
on the quicksands of ambivalence
    is our life's whole nemesis.

So we could rave on, darling, you and I,
until the stars tick out a lullaby
    about each cosmic pro and con;
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move
    implacably from twelve to one.

We raise our arguments like sitting ducks
to knock them down with logic or with luck
    and contradict ourselves for fun;
the waitress holds our coats and we put on
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun
    who insists his playmates run.

Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
    like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
    should inflame the sleeping town.

So kiss: the drunks upon the curb and dames
in dubious doorways forget their monday names,
    caper with candles in their heads;
the leaves applaud, and santa claus flies in
scattering candy from a zeppelin,
    playing his prodigal charades.

The moon leans down to took; the tilting fish
in the rare river wink and laugh; we lavish
    blessings right and left and cry
hello, and then hello again in deaf
churchyard ears until the starlit stiff
    graves all carol in reply.

Now kiss again: till our strict father leans
to call for curtain on our thousand scenes;
    brazen actors mock at him,
multiply pink harlequins and sing
in *** ventriloquy from wing to wing
    while footlights flare and houselights dim.

Tell now, we taunq where black or white begins
and separate the flutes from violins:
    the algebra of absolutes
explodes in a kaleidoscope of shapes
that jar, while each polemic jackanapes
    joins his enemies' recruits.

The paradox is that 'the play's the thing':
though prima donna pouts and critic stings,
    there burns throughout the line of words,
the cultivated act, a fierce brief fusion
which dreamers call real, and realists, illusion:
    an insight like the flight of birds:

Arrows that lacerate the sky, while knowing
the secret of their ecstasy's in going;
    some day, moving, one will drop,
and, dropping, die, to trace a wound that heals
only to reopen as flesh congeals:
    cycling phoenix never stops.

So we shall walk barefoot on walnut shells
of withered worlds, and stamp out puny hells
    and heavens till the spirits squeak
surrender: to build our bed as high as jack's
bold beanstalk; lie and love till sharp scythe hacks
    away our rationed days and weeks.

Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down,
and god or void appall us till we drown
    in our own tears: today we start
to pay the piper with each breath, yet love
knows not of death nor calculus above
    the simple sum of heart plus heart.
  Jun 27 fukk
Breanna W
We are not afraid of the mirror,
We are afraid of the monster it shows.
We are afraid of porcelain skin
stained red,
afraid of never finding the bone,
afraid of never finding the very
core essence of our control.
I am afraid of being too much,
of not being enough,
of this skinny love
for a non-skinny reflection,
afraid of failing
if I am never able to see
my porcelain bones
imprinted on porcelain skin,
my very core
protruding from within.

I am my own control.
and one day,
I shall see it in the mirror,
even if I have to fall into it
and become the monster within.
This is super negative, but it's what I'm feeling right now so I put it up anyways.
  Jun 23 fukk
Nina Campos
Eat
You need to be, to be beautiful
But I can’t
My tears in the dark make me ****
My insides are rotting
My heart is icing
Like on a cake
But I ate too much
You tell me how I shake the world
And it hurts me
My bones break
My back bends
My muscles hurt
I still keep up with your requests
You want me to be beautiful
But I can’t change how you make me feel
  Jun 23 fukk
Lizzy
Shrink yourself
Oh she's fading away
Hold her bones together
As the movies play

When a diet becomes an addiction
I felt myself give in
My mind was hooked on these
Skinny thoughts

Bones dance in my dreams
And I couldn't be shaken awake
Yes I'll be skinny like the others
Beautiful like I want

But there's nothing beautiful
About your hair falling out
And passing out and hitting your head
And freezing in the summer
And constantly falling asleep

There's nothing cute about
***** in your hair
And on your clothes
****** noses
And aching bones

Nothing glamorous behind that bathroom door
Just a stupid girl
With her head stuck half way down the pipes
  May 21 fukk
Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
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