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1.0k · Sep 2015
My Favorite Drug
Anthony Walters Sep 2015
The crisp, nippy air and tired, grey clouds embrace me and I don't want them to let go.

A cotton sweatshirt, denim jeans, and skate shoes can only keep me so warm and safe. Then I'm vulnerable. I become transparent. It's so liberating to be honest, but it feels even better to share this. And that is something I usually don't.

But if it's with her, what do I really need anyway? Confidence, approval, guidance, renewal? Chance said 'there ain't nothin' better than fallin' in love,' so now it makes total sense why it's my favorite drug.
Autumn is coming to Chicago, and I'm melancholy.
826 · Dec 2015
afternoon naps
Anthony Walters Dec 2015
Today I had a dream,
I was in my father's house,
He told me to burn the money,
And something else...

Then I woke up hard and fast,
Nervous about what he had said.
Was it his ghost I spoke to last?
Then I realized he wasn't actually dead,

Just in a hospital bed.
751 · Nov 2015
These Days
Anthony Walters Nov 2015
The glistening snow sweats off the arms of the woods,
The sun's warmth challenges the breeze,
But the breeze knows how to get under my skin,
The sun can only touch gently on the surface.

And another thing: my mind is at ease,
But it must be arousing to knead an angel in the doughy snow,
Rather than ******* my boots, pack up my book bag,
And to tune out the rest, put on my headphones,
Playing songs to keep me stuck inside my head.

Rather than grinding equations,
Taking notes,
Inspecting writing,
Instead of analyzing one of these,
I'd like to read glowing literature for my heart's sake.

The best days begin and end like this.
These days tranquilize me,
Sequester cortisol from my brain,
And quell thoughts of then,
thoughts of tomorrow, thoughts of today,
thoughts of when, thoughts of who,
thoughts of why, thoughts of how,
thoughts of you.

So since you aren't here to feed my soul,
And I can't read in this city's wretched cold,
I'll tuck myself inside my bed,
And burn my eyes on my phone screen instead.
304 · Dec 2015
V
Anthony Walters Dec 2015
V
Clicks and beeps ping back and forth
from a retina display
to the reflections in your black mirrors.

You are digitized,
processed into servers.
But that is you. They only know us
by the mask we wear, not our faces too.

But who are we you ask?
We could be anyone; our black mirror is just like yours.

“My silver and white heart,
which stays still,
shall never sway
our collective will.”
This is our motto.
We serve justice,
for no one besides us, nobody else.

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— The End —