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Ellie Wolf Feb 2016
Isn’t it hilarious
how every single poem I write
that’s supposed to be
an inspiring statement about
how I don’t need you anymore
inherently denies

I am going to choke on the irony.
Ellie Wolf Jan 2016
I was senseless.
But what can I do?
My head was spinning,
Looking to cling to a heart
That was never there.
I stumbled and tripped,
Landed face first
On rejection without
A chance for redemption.
At least when you left
You couldn’t see me
Crestfallen, bared,
Stripped of all my pride.
Laying on my back,
Blasting my thoughts away
With my one true love
Travelling through my ears
Into my poor excuse for a brain,
Shutting it down
For at least a few.
When I woke,
All I could think about
Was how to salvage
What was left to save.
I know I need to lie,
But deep in my heart
You will find a place
Concealed by a door
With a lock of sobriety
Placed upon it.
It knows, that despite
My pathetically dulled senses
I meant every word
And I would ***** them out again
If it would only,
Cheer you up
Instead of
  Jan 2016 Ellie Wolf
Joseph Paris
Muse of a new day, how is it that you are the way you are? -- feeling so much,
so that you may wish not ever to feel, as if you were not the one chosen,
still dressed in a cloak of a million lights.

But I claim that is what makes you brilliant, though feeling does not save.

You can travel all the way to Mars,
digging up the waters of your sub-consciousness to serve as your thoughts.
Please, don't plead to the skies and lead your life astray,
looking at constellations too long might make you want to stay among the grey.

You and I, we’re not so different.

Too long have I lingered in studies of the stars
and missed the comrade human hours.
Sad as the monotone of the sea, I tossed away the stone of my powers.
And now, as I weightlessly wing amongst the churches of my nameless city, I see it all so clearly:

The monotony voices the unspoken plea,
of a life better lived than pondered,
better felt than conquered.
Ellie Wolf Dec 2015
I want to run away.
I want to stop thinking.
I want affection,
however ephemeral
and sickeningly circumstantial
from people
who seek the same.
If only for tonight,
they’re my kindred souls,
so I’ll take one,
pretend it’s you,
give up myself to your reflection
and in the morning
curse at my conception,
come to.
Ellie Wolf Dec 2015
While walking I see two of my shadows
And I feel their presence.

I know I ought to know the scientific explanation of such phenomena
But there is freedom in not knowing things
And bliss in ignorance.

I didn’t go to dance practice today because of things too important to ignore (but not important enough to care about).

So I danced on my way home
Because of overwhelming thoughts
And old habits that I cling to.

And people stared.

And I like that my “Too Tired To Care” attitude
Comes of as just not caring.

And falling leaves look like dead birds and vice-versa.

And I touch the skin behind my ear
And even though it doesn’t hurt anymore
I cry.
Ellie Wolf Dec 2015
I run
And I scatter
No use trying to find yourself through mindless chatter
And while I’d like to think
That my friends and I matter
It’s all just nonsense
Because in reality
We’re all just concepts
Running about
Talking aloud
Just a mindless crowd
That lives its life without any consolation
Or any form of self-expression
For our aggression
Or the things we cannot suppress
Middle of the Night Emotional Meltdown
Ellie Wolf Nov 2015
Inside my little world I try to focus
long enough to look into your eyes
and keep the dearest particles of light,
captured in May,
released in June,
restored in July,
severed in August,

I cannot remember
the last time I felt
this melancholy.


Careless laughter
and needless fantasies
we indulged in,
of spending even more
time than we did,
more than we should,
more than we had,
more more more…
It was never enough.

We’d drown ourselves
in the romanticised idea
of youth
and a lifestyle
better suited for
invisible wanderers
than for kids from the suburbs.

We’d stay out too late
mimicking the artists
who failed to get their pain across,
imagining we understood them.
We’d be up all night
guessing each other’s thoughts
and retelling our life
down from childhood up until then.

Contemplations of jealousy
and assumptions
rooted in instability.
Long walks
through cracked pavement
and jokes to hide
our invalidated pain.

Songs sung out.
Songs screamed out.
Songs of hope.
Songs of loss.
We’d hide ourselves
in music and the arms
of whoever was
conveniently located.


And I wouldn’t take any of it back.
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