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Feeling Real Jan 2014
I've met a man who has traveled the world
while I boast an intelligence I don't believe in
I talk, as if I have learned something
His eyes follow me
as if I had something for him to take
There is no information or physical form to give
I am a hollowed tree
Disgusting from the outside and mostly empty
Feeling Real Jan 2014
Nature delivers all that she promises fairly.
She hands us the reality of death,
to be either denied and abhorred or accepted and understood.
I lay under an opened night sky, bitter.
I am agony as the stars wax and wane by my eyes inability to focus.
Of the lessons to be instructed,
this seems, to me, so implored by my spirit.
Looking out into the nether,
my mind attempts a fathoming of what it means to be endless,
like space seems to be in any singular moment.
When I am close to an end at any moment,
my mental prowess is under strain.
All things, even those beyond my grasp, are cyclical.
Stars are born from dust to die in dust.
The Universe, born, will end.
Our Sun, the life-giver, warmth and light,
once mere molecules will return to such.
I can not escape this truth.

I, like all life here, was born to be swallowed back into Earth.
A cruel thing it is, to be destined to loss,
always looming in the future.
In our past, all have been ended,
like I will have been to those who proceed me.  
I have long-since been swallowed by rivers and dirt.
I have given birth to grass and inspired trees to bear their seeds.
I have issued new men to prosper and time to pass.
Though solemn this truth, all will follow behind me.
Inspired by William Cullen Bryant's poem Thanatopsis. It is a great read, so please do not hesitate to read if you enjoyed my take on his work.
Feeling Real Jan 2014
I am an innocent child
perceived as a nymph
more desirable than I can comprehend
I, a poor wretch, used up
drained of what I could be
Twice now, destroyed
brought back down to Earth
I had escaped long ago
It took so long to heal
and now, again, nothing seems real
I am in a state of transition
It took 7 years
to be fine for 6 months
7 years to heal for nothing
but a half year of complacency
and I'm broken again
It feels like my fault
Feeling Real Jan 2014
this poem may trigger and is entirely, as the title suggests, vile**


A black room in faded blue light
night time party
We have drugs and alcohol and nice men
for your individual company

I drift between all conversations
he insults my intelligence
he’s so much smarter than me
he can prove it without trying
and I really believe it

A black light lit room
he’s been waiting for time
to stroke my ego and then put me down
I let him

My hesitancy is to be expected
he's older, he knows more than I could
I wouldn’t want to wait my whole life
for something I can get now
He’s so much smarter than me
I am so beautiful
worth forehead kisses and lingering touches
deserving of his attention

So we touch and writhe
and then again, later
there’s no real witnesses
and I feel cared for

Then morning light comes
and he informs me he did not
so I am obligated for round 3

In the bathroom
while the shower runs
freezing cold over me

I messed up, please stop
but I must have not been too scared
because I only asked and didn’t leave

His fist pulled at my scalp
and he told me I liked it
made me tell him I loved him

"You’re never going to get this anywhere else
You’re going to come back to me”
I'm shaking too hard to hold myself up

I’m crying, stifling it into my arm
I’m trying to shut up
but it hurts and I can’t think

"Shut up
You want me to come, don’t you?”
I want it to be done
Feeling Real Jan 2014
I need to adjust myself
and view the past as it is
not as how I wish it
Not through eyes of a deficient
appetite and mind and mood
Careless
Maker, mine, keep me safe
Hold me how you like
I will like it, too

You are an art
fully deceptive and eager to ruin
whomever you can let yourself touch
I let you touch me and I am ruins
I am stupid, and wrong, and scared
Careless
Maker, mine, keep me safe
Touch me however you like
sure I like it, too

He let me go
he let me leave
I want to crawl back
like a frightened child for him to hold
He grinned as he hurt me
Careless
He grinned while he hurt me
Hold me how you like
I will like it, too
Feeling Real Jan 2014
Yet
I was warned against the continuation
and the ever-growing fantasies that result in obsession
because mine and his, together, would ignite and explode
I was washed against a mirror image
wherein I only saw futures imagined
I was sure to earn only those I could let burn
How unfortunate for me, I live and bleed
because to extinguish one would warrant the other useless
and, in turn, to obtain a purpose, to draw a line
two things I can not do while tied in twine,
are all I can imagine would redeem the wretch
of thoughts I cater to for actions I now can not do
I am repeatedly told I idolize the ways of old
By smart and dumb alike, I’m told I am humourous
I am intelligent, an idol to mold into if they could
To the untrained eye I am nothing but joyous
though my final trap crept up, noiseless
and slowly, creeping, silent, I accepted this deed
wherein I allow myself to die by forgetting to feed
This end takes time and is my greed and guilt
because nobody would sympathize with a flower who chose to wilt
I was once light, the Earth’s true child
who hoped and wished for relief for a being higher
but that was once, a very long time ago
before I had dedicated years to feeling only my woe

My selfish end will come, and be just that

because no matter my weight, I am always fat.
Feeling Real Jan 2014
I'm wasting time again
rather than giving in to temptations
that leave me guilty
wishing I'd had forethought
or the will to resist

I'm on the mend again
insisting I am no longer deprived
though I love to be light
and everyone who pays attention would notice
as I climb or fall by inches
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