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  Feb 2016 Ash Perri
Devon Webb
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
  Feb 2016 Ash Perri
Devon Webb
We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.
It's worth it though.
Ash Perri Feb 2016
Sick of circling the same road,
Sick of bearing the guilt,
So open the windows to cool off,
And heat pours in, instead

Perfect in weakness,
All my efforts to clean me
Leave me putrid and filthy
And how can you look at me
When I can’t stand myself

I tried to **** you.
You tried to save me.

You save me.
Ash Perri Jan 2016
Stranger, aquaintance, friend, lover..
they all become the same person.

Maybe you could,
I've lived to see you break a promise once.

Lover,
friend.

You lied. blamed it on your remembrance, your faulty memory.
i have the truth in writing (the letters i finally tucked away)

Twice. I'm a fool.

Friend?
Aquaintance.

Embarrassed, my safety net is full of holes.

Acquaintance,
We were strangers when i met you,
seems to me that we have been ever since. Might as well be.
Ash Perri Jan 2016
My heads spinning as if I’m on a carousel twice the speed. I can’t stand and when I do, I falter. The knots in my stomach continute to tighten, like weeds around plants. My fingers vibrate with intensity and my whole body begins to tremble with fear. Heart palpatations, that I cannot handle. My breaths become deeper, my face whiter and skin clamy. I am losing control. I claw at my throat as if I am digging my own grave. Please, let this not be the end. I can’t force my eyes to open they seemed to be glued shut. My scent increases and I smell blood. I’m getting suffocated. Somebody help me. This is agony. My cheek is cold from the stone pebble ground. I try to rub my eyes, it’s a blur as I open them. I blink several times before my vision becomes clear. Alleyway. My legs are uneasy, as if I am a infant trying to walk for the first time. My neck is in pain. I place my hand on my elbow, its oozing with blood. I see a light. My body is in excruciating pain from the fall. I move slowly. Making my way towards the light, it was a pub. My ribcage ached every time my lungs drew in a breath. I recognized my skin tight clothing in the light. Laced up corset. Figures, it was hard to make out. I knew they were people. My mouth opened trying to speak, but my voice was hoarse. Dry like the desert. I could not make a sound. Was this another dream? It felt too much like reality.
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