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 May 2014
circus clown
im addicted to the feeling
of emptiness in my body.
first, panic,
then comes comfort
in knowing i will soon be
smaller
than every conversation
weve tried to hold in the past year
and now that i can think
with my head clear, no longer
suffocating under the weight
i carried of the love i thought
was shared, i realize that nothing
that came out of our sorrow bleeding
mouths ever held any meaning.
the meaning lied in the dark
like i did all those nights when i
couldnt close my eyes and turned off
all the lights to pretend i could.
i will weigh even less than
what i meant to you and
maybe after that,
your weak, bruised,
needle loving arms can be
wrapped around me
comfortable enough
for the both of us.
i hope she finds my teeth in your neck and my nails in your back.
 May 2014
mads
I couldn't rush any quicker
Than to taste something
More bitter than your soul.
And swearing on improper nouns
I told myself to never look
Directly at your heart...

I did; you turned to stone.
Headstone gravestone. Everything's a tumble **** for now, for ever, for never. A dried oasis, stretching like a maimed ghoul for the sweet smell of creative freedom.
 Apr 2014
Marshall CB Hiatt
So gouge out my eyes and call me blind,
Paint my eyes black and call my words flat,

I am the captain of my life!
I am the ocean and the tide,
I am the boat beneath my feet,
So come sail with me,
        Sail this sea.

So grind down my fingers and tell me
          to climb!
I will fly so far away from your lies,
          No time.

Don’t tell me that life is black and white,
Cause I’ve see the reds and blues so bright,
Don’t tell me I have to stay here,
‘Cause there’s so much I fear,
        Come with me dear.

I am the master of my soul,
I fly my colors whole,
I am not afraid to see what’s next,
The future is so complex,
    But your eyes are still my objects
                    of desire.


-August 23rd 2013
I used to scream my poetry, edited this to not be so aggressive.
 Apr 2014
Anna
I wanted to die in the trees
Shed my broken skin like ***** ticks and fleas
Have my spirit dog the falling leaves
While branches dip themselves in grief
 Apr 2014
circus clown
how many bus tickets can you
cram  into  the  space  left  behind
where  your  hands  used  to
fall   around   my   waist?
how   many   pens   &
pencils    can     i     fit
in  my  bag  until  i  realize
these  words  aren't  getting  me
a      n      y     w     h     e     r     e     ?
"i miss you" is my thesis statement.
 Apr 2014
circus clown
"i'm sorry i can't
keep you safe."


                                                                                                           "i'm sorry i'm so
                                                                                                            clumsy that you
                                                                                                                 feel like you
                                                                                                                       should."
 Apr 2014
Marshall CB Hiatt
Recklessly waving my ribcage like some paper prize for all to see,
I can't quite see what I think,
I trust my gut too much and follow a trail unnamed, untamed, unfeigned.

It's offensive; being pensive and walking slowly, defensive.
It is not my right to gain her sight without giving something in return.
I have nothing to give, when will she learn.

I am a pauper, improper.
I am an author, a stalker,
A talker.

I have words and letters,
The bird's feathers,
But I cannot fly.

I've tried.
Endeavors.
 Apr 2014
circus clown
i want to hold your
l                          
                            a          g      
                                                     u        h
(inside)
my stomach so that the
warmth
would stop me
from clenching my jaw
because i know that if
~ light ~
were a person,
i'd have already met him.

you smile like you've
swallowed the sun.
never have i felt, never have, have i, felt, have, i.
 Apr 2014
jude rigor
jesus left me a
gun under the
table.

he didn't remember
to leave a note telling
me what it's for, but
i think i'm smart
enough to put one
and two, together. (or
                        am i?):(i am).

it's about a week or so later
when momma tells me
'god ain't real' and rips
it from my hands but
they still  sh a ke     and
reach for love that isn't
there. (in the spaces. the
                    c a b i n e t s ).

: i feel self-empowered at
the thought that maybe i
put it there - memory
evades me -- ***** me                       | high
until i'm low again.                               again. |
                                 (it's all the same).

days pass and i find
it taped under my
desk but this time
with a **** note.

"to forget" it says. "from
someone who cares."

and i think
let's see if it'll actually
            hurt          so
                  mouth open
                              black berry sm ell s
                            taunt me into
                      relaxation, (am i in
                                  p a r a d i s e ):::(i think
                                                             i am).

i know it's the love wrapping
its skeleton arms around
my body when i  f a  l   l     to
                                  the
                                          floor. || everything
                                                  is silent
                                                      on this
                                                        side.






**(c) 2014 jude rigor
 Apr 2014
circus clown
you spent the entirety of your childhood
on the cement driveway
laid out in the front of the
tall house on the right side
of almond street
r i p p i n g
the wings off of your favorite insects
after letting them explore
the skin stretched across your hands
and keeping them in mason jars
on the middle shelf above your bed
admiring the trust they had in you

many years later
you move it up to the bedroom
cotton instead of cement
but i could never tell the difference
with your hands gripped tight
around each and every one of my limbs
and after i could no longer hold your attention
you'd throw me in the closet
with the rest of the skeletons
and now you get to watch me
become one
because we went from
crossed stars and smoking in back yards
to you regretting all of it
 Apr 2014
Molly
When I used to have bad nights,
I would lie awake and cry,
curled up in a ball on my side
clutching a blade so hard my knuckles were white
trying to fight
but I didn't know which voice was mine.

Fall asleep too late,
in my dreams I would suffocate
and have bloodshot eyes when I'd wake,
but reassure my mom with my arms around her waist
yeah, I'm great.


Now when I have those evenings,
I try to keep from screaming,
but I can still feel your heart beating
when I read your messages that I can't bear deleting,
and I write all these texts to you that I'm not completing
because I told you to go away but I hadn't planned for your leaving.

Close my eyes when the darkness recedes,
the nightmares are always you and me
and I take Tylenol to make your memory leave
but my hands are red and they will never be clean
*I'm sorry for the times I made you bleed.
I'm not very good at rhyming.
 Apr 2014
Kelsey
THESE ARE YOUR HANDS AND THIS IS HOW YOU TELL THE FLAMES YOU'RE NOT ALL BAD.
THESE ARE YOUR THIRD DEGREE BURNS TO SAY YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH BONES MELTING IN TRUST ISSUES.
THESE ARE YOUR WRISTS, THOSE ARE YOUR KNEECAPS, THIS IS YOUR STORY.
THIS IS HOW YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE BUT STILL MANAGE TO LEAVE THE WORLD WONDERING HOW YOU COULD MATCH UP TO THUNDER'S HARMONIES,
THIS IS HOW YOU WHISPER TO MOUNTAINS AND KNOW THE PEAKS WILL HEAR YOU.
THIS IS HOW YOU TELL THE VOICES IN YOUR HEAD TO SHAKE HANDS WITHOUT STARTING AN EARTHQUAKE,
THIS IS HOW YOU TELL DEPRESSION TO LIGHTEN UP,
THIS IS HOW YOU GRAB ANXIETY BY THE SHOULDERS AND SING LULLABIES TO ITS LUNGS.
THIS IS HOW YOU WALK UP TO GOD AND RIP OPEN YOUR CHEST WITHOUT INTRODUCING YOURSELF FIRST AND ASK "WHY?"
THERE'S PAPER UNDERNEATH YOUR PILLOW,
THOSE ARE THE NOTES YOU PASSED TO YOUR BEST FRIEND IN THE THIRD GRADE WHEN YOU TOLD HER ABOUT YOUR FIRST CRUSH.
THERE'S A PAPER THAT'S BEEN IN YOUR BACK POCKET FOR A YEAR AND A HALF,
THE ONE NEXT TO YOUR RECEIPT FOR A BOTTLE OF WHISKEY AND STAIN REMOVER,
THIS IS THE NOTE SHE WROTE YOU A WEEK BEFORE HER FUNERAL.
THIS IS HOW YOU WASH YOUR JEANS WITH TWO CUPS OF 'TODAY I FORGOT TO REMEMBER TO FORGET'.
THIS IS HOW YOU COPE.
THIS IS HOW YOU LAY ON MUD STAINED CARPETING AND AND STARE AT YOUR BROKEN DOOR,
THIS IS HOW YOU CONVERT TO HARDWOOD FLOORS AND STRONGER DOOR HINGES.
THIS IS HOW YOU WIN A WAR WITH ONE BODY ON A BATTLEFIELD,
THIS IS HOW YOU SHOW A BLIND MAN THAT YOU CAN PAINT A ******* MASTERPIECE.
THIS IS HOW YOU REACH HEAVEN WITHOUT DYING, THIS IS HOW YOU KNOW HELL WITHOUT LIVING THROUGH IT.
THIS IS HOW YOU UNDERSTAND THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE, BY CROSSING PATHS WITH THE GUY THAT MADE YOU HATE WET PAVEMENT AND THE SMELL AFTER IT RAINS,
THIS IS HOW YOU HELD HIS HAND THE SAME WAY YOU HOLD A KNIFE, THIS IS HOW YOU LEARN FORGIVENESS.
THIS IS HOW YOU SMOKE WITH THREE LUNGS AND LOVE WITH ONE.
THIS IS HOW YOU STUFF THE PERSON YOU WANT TO BE IN A FORTUNE COOKIE AND LEARN PATIENCE.
THIS IS HOW YOU TELL PEOPLE YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE YOUR MOTHER. THIS IS HOW YOU SAY YOU HAVE YOUR EYES, NOT HERS BECAUSE THIS IS HOW YOU UNCLENCH YOUR HUSBANDS FISTS.
THIS IS HOW YOU LOSE SOMEONE THAT NEVER KNEW HOW TO BE ALONE, THIS IS HOW YOU WORRY.
THIS IS HOW YOU CONFIDE IN A HOSPITAL BED TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LET GO.
THIS IS HOW YOU LET THE NURSE WITH SHAKY HANDS TEACH YOU HOW TO TRACE THE STRAIGHT LINE ON YOUR HEART MONITOR AND BE OKAY AFTERWARDS. THIS IS HOW YOU LIVE AND ACCEPT DEATH.
THIS IS HOW YOU UNEARTH YOURSELF,
THIS IS HOW YOU STOP EXISTING,
THIS IS HOW YOU STOP FOCUSING ON LIVING AND BREATHE FOR YOURSELF.
THIS IS HOW YOU STOP THINKING AND FEEL.
THIS IS HOW YOU SPEND A LIFETIME TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT 'THIS' IS.
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