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mental illness is the
most expensive thing
i've ever owned but
never wanted
05/30/2016
Your eyes sang the song of loss
And I recognized the chorus
I was reading a book in a place no normal person would be. When I was accomponied by a lovely gal who had the same plans as me. We never spoke a word to eachother but I've never felt so understood.
It’s not that my truth is superior
Or that your way of life is inferior
We both would agree
And a blind man could see
That we value a vibrant interior
The first glance

Unsteady, unsure

One beautiful smile

One thoughtful flutter

Godspeed you butterfly!

She comes to my shoulder

And pins a rose on me

She leaves a note

She lifts the net

But wants no words to her song

She is from November

And I am from snow

We stand together

And everything is new
birds feast on daybreak
worms; threads of song borne from dirt
salvaged as dusk wind
My mind is maddening,
Millions of Miles racing.

Melancholy, menacing
Marginalities.

Machine magnifying
Minuscule moments.

Missing motivation,
Mistreating my mental.

Micro-managing me.
Must moor myself.
Prompt was a poem that makes heavy use of alliteration 147 weeks ago.
I hadn't expected someone there
already before me.

Only lonely men come here
I heard him through my heavy breath
lonely with nothing and everything.

Down there was the sea rumbling faintly
with the froths painting themselves on the shore
like a sketch in a child's drawing book.

Height does amazing tricks, the man continued,
makes you feel invincible
stimulates you to be ****** into gravity
to fall as light as the feather.


The dusk was wrapping up the light
when I remembered having promised her
not to be late to descend.

There's a man up there, I told the gateman,
Nope, he said,
you were the only guest this evening.
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