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 May 2015 chloe-alex
 May 2015 chloe-alex
I need to sleep
I close my eyes and try
But the thoughts keep dragging me back

The thoughts keep me wide awake
They haunt me
They taunt me
They tease me
They seize me

If I were to name the thoughts
I would need to know what to call an awake nightmare.
 May 2015 chloe-alex
Maria Imran
If cursing you
or crying rivers
or breaking pens and
or marring the sculpture
I had so lovingly made
of your face
or taking pills
or cutting skin
or drinking blood
or pinning eyes
or pinching shoulders
or pulling hair
or lashing legs
or inflicting pain
could erase the pain,

I would.
(But I spit out poetry instead)
staring out on a cold water that drowns me in the sorrow of losing you. counting down to an inevitability.
sinking deeper into an uncertainty; one that scares me.
i begin to wade in this water of sadness,
heavy heart plunging me to the bottom,
immersed in a necessary sorrow.
for my dad. gone but never forgotten.
 May 2015 chloe-alex
Maybe I dug my own holes*
*and couldn't climb out
 May 2015 chloe-alex
my name is shauna
i say im hot as a sauna
because that's the first
bar that i ever rap
no this is a poem
it's not a trap
to get you to listen
to what i could be spittin

or could i?
to be
like the

but i'm a female in this world
filled with darkness, i hurled
threw up inside
when i found out my little cousin
was touched by some big scary man
i wasn't there to protect her
and society will neglect her
probably shame her
maybe even blame her
because of what she was wearing
how could you possibly be caring
or even
that a little
with a small small
would fill it
with this scary
demon that i would ****** if i got my hands around his throat...

i don't mean to go
too far
it's just
when trust
is taken
from a 3 year old girl
who will now question her world
and why it is so scary
and will be afraid of all the
because of that scary
who took her spirit
ripped it right out of her pig tails
my grandmother wails
sick of all the ******* man
sick of all the bull
a freestyle poem out of nowhere i wish i could rap
I keep flipping through
photo albums,
smiling fondly at pictures
of me taking my first steps,
playing in delight,
holding hands
once in a while.
I keep flipping and they seem
to come to life;
the colors glaring,
the rush of the sounds
and smell
embrace me for comfort,
it seems like yesterday
I stood there,
smiling a toothy smile,
thinking this was the best day
of my life.
It feels good to flip through
photo albums,
they never fray and serve
to remind.

It will be alright.
He died on the bathroom floor
The tiles cracked beneath him
Split the earth right down to the core
Poison slipped from under his skin
And drained his body of blood
He lay there like a bag of blistered bones
Smothered by a world I knew as mine
With my name scarred to his hips
I tore the flesh from my spine
Warmed him with breath
Wrapped him up in suppression and regret
Clawed through my veins and held him down to rest
But his blood still leaks from purple lips
Dissolving through my chest like arsenic kisses and acid trips
He has a tongue made of razors and it's lapping up my sweat
Sometimes I think it's just my guilt tugging at my throat
Other days I know it's him -
Spitting out the currents in an ocean for the blind
An eye for an eye, and he'll finally have me confined
 May 2015 chloe-alex
It's been a year since I had a drink,
but three months since I had a cigarette

Each day I feel myself slowly fading away,
and I am scared I'll end up slipping back into my old ways.

The panic attacks at night come back,
and all I need is a way to rant.

I turn the music on full volume,
because I need something louder than the voices in my head.

I stare at my bedroom walls till past 2a.m on a school night,
I blame insomnia, but my mind is the reason why.

I can't stop myself from thinking back to when I actually slept at night,
and when my hands didn't shake all day long,

I feel like I am just a pair of eyes,
watching as the world goes by.

I am just a bystander,
while everyone keeps moving.

I started to feel nothing again,
letting things go on while I stood still.
this is long and old.
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