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**** it.
i've said it before.
when the volume rises and I see the door.
what the **** are you fighting for?
to maintain a false understanding that you know much more?
break me, please
god forbid you say anymore.
**** it
You are what you were
Your thoughts are absurd
You place your faith in other words
You have no worth

You walk through this life
Fairytales are your lies.
You place your faith in other words
You have no worth

The light in your eyes
That fear grows in size
Faith is your surprise
The irony is quite wise

Go drink those tears that you cry.
Go walk with the other blind
Go walk with your kind
This won’t be new
You do it all the time

So stay quiet
I am recursively finding past writings.  This one was originally a song from two years ago
Should have I finished school?
That'd be cool.
Bringing me back to feeling like a fool.
Standards are discarded when you show them you don't need those rules.

Stand up.
Be free.
Life is once.
You can't believe
That what you think you see
Is nothing more
Than the pain beneath.

I just wish I could breathe
At least I could find the peace to finally sleep.
PleAse don’t pretend
Lie to a child that somehow we are friends
Even if I try to extend
Your moving back into the future
And we won’t ever be kin

If that’s a game you’d like to play
Take your misery I’m not afraid to walk away
I didn’t make the simple mans mistake
I saw a virtue in the struggle of the wait

So when I don’t care to even glance in your eyes
Don’t act as if it’s some ill willed surprise
You had a chance just as I
And just as in that sense we are alike
I too can choose to exile your kind.

So this is me saying with clarity
You’ve exhausted all of my charity.
Done forcing myself to be “nice”. The truth is ultimatelykinder.
Cameron Banowsky May 2018
Went out to pay tribute,
headed out west.
Seems Santa Monica is filled with LA's best.

Where have we come?
Where ego survives before your own son?
You keep buying that **** your fed since birth
Ignorance is the summation of your net worth

I don't abide.
I've seen it happen.
I just watched it with my own two eyes.
Sadly, I'm not surprised.
Dressed up kids **** good vibes
Pretext: ****** art gallery manager attempted to scold / embarrass her assistant Audrey who had been nothing assistant who had been nothing but kind to me as I worked out a time I would be on the west side to play a guitar / work of art masterpiece from a local artist named Shanna.  This dumb **** manager had some stick up her *** and made herself look like the child she clearly is.  This one is for Audrey.
Cameron Banowsky May 2018
it's a loaded term.
branded and historically stern.
While the shadow still remains
after the setting sun --
your pain will remain.

This is the ORIGIN of shame.

Have you not learned?
how They play game?
paint us out to be insane.

I wasn't given a choice.
I was given a name.

-- that i haven't changed.
there’s something so deeply and inherently terrifying about romantic love and attachment; it’s like giving someone a neatly written postcard detailing all of the various ways in which they could take your heart and pick it apart into a heap of broken fragments.

it’s the fact that you were so agonisingly in love with your sadness that i became (always was?) an afterthought. it’s like mum always said, “you are powerless in the face of someone who doesn’t want to be helped”.

i wanted to soak my skin in your madness and chaos.
to take all of the mismatched jigsaw pieces of your mind and will them to fit together enough to love me back even a little bit.

one day that you will realise that they are just boys. they are boys with closed-off hearts and cynical minds. with their inherent need to drain and empty you of everything you have to offer; with the burning desire to be both fixed and left alone all at the same time.

i actively avoid thinking about the estimated number of minutes i spent trying to burn the imprint of your fingers out of my lungs.
oh honey, one day all these valiant notions of self-sacrifice are going to get you hurt; you won’t know how to tell him that you are in pain.
                                       that every time your knuckles brush against my lips my heart feels like it’s going to give up on itself.

i don’t know what to do with the knowledge that i am heartbroken over someone who is indifferent to my plight, someone who watched the cracks deepen and spread yet still chose to walk away. that’s the problem with feelings; you can’t simply pick them up and store them in a jar for later.

you left and i’m stuck with limbs which ache from the sheer weight of the feelings that i can’t shake.

with gentle fingers full of promise and parted lips you drew confessions from me that i swore would never come; you were messy and indignantly proud of it. your mess leaked into mine and for a few precious minutes we coexisted in our state of disarray.

your hands knew me far better than your heart ever did;

it must have been so dark up there, on the pedestal that i nailed you to. a martyr for your cause, i tried to tie your wrists to mine in a desperate fear of being alone again.

all i wanted from you was to coexist but you were never shy about telling me that, for you, that wasn't enough.
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