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Julia P Feb 11
Im drunk enough for the room to spin.

I am not drunk enough for the room to feel known.

Im not drunk enough for my life to have ‘meaning-purpose-its-****-togheter’.

Im drunk enough to hope it gets better.

It gets...

It gets...

It gets better.

It’s a promise.

Broken offence clings to quiet. Suffocate.

Breathe through shallow opening of mouths. Hoping they do right:

‘Breathe! Just breathe!’

‘Why?’

‘Necessary cycle of oxygenation.’

‘Breathe or dry? That is my choice?’

‘You were never given one.’

‘Breathe i do. Breathe i be. Breathe i will. Promise not to suffocate.’

‘Dont you mug yourself with promises.’

‘Hopeful for tomorrow?’

‘Breathe. Ignore humidity. It’s not warmth.’

‘I need  water. I need more.’

‘No.’

‘Noooo???!?’

‘No.’

‘ You ####, you absolute #### !

‘ See the smirk upon my face? Tells the story of a peace. ‘

‘ %#% your peace. %#%# Your price of existence.’

‘Be?’

‘I will...’

‘Coward.’

‘I survived.’
©️jp
Julia P Jun 2018
The best scenario-
Is you speaking truth.
And I know you.
And I know better.
©️JP
Julia P Oct 2017
The body exhibits pain to relay the message of
function.

Probably.

I sat crawled up for as long as i could stand it,
And when i got bored of it-
I walked to the cupboard and
poured until the bottle ran dry. Whiskey.
With its burning magic. To shut up my sensors.
I sipped each burn as if it was a lifeline.
And it reminded me of you.
Kissing you.
Running out of breath,
Knowing there is more.

I hate you- for my brain will forever think of your kiss embedded with that burn.

I don’t plan on quitting whiskey.
You’re just easier to give up on.
©jp
Julia P Oct 2017
People like me - (whatever the **** that means) accept change as a given.

The fuckkkk?
Accepting change?
It happens. It doesn’t actually ask permission.
It does its ******* thing and just is. What it is.
It doesn’t ask you for your opinionated opinion.
It does the deed.
It flips your existence and doesn’t let a shred of possibility for a return of what it was.

People like me know that fighting it is pointless.
When Hulk punches you in the gut - you crawl to suppress the pain. You don't  tell him what you think of the execution of set punch. Because one is enough.
You teach yourself to breath through that ridiculous hurt.
You get up. And thank him for not punching you again.
And you accept that you might have an internal bleeding. Medical attention is advisable.

Change happens.
It knocks your lights out.
Afterwards - you turn them back on.
And wait for the next wave.
Because one thing is certain-
it’s coming.
Julia P Apr 2017
I've rebuilt thy self.
One ****** ******* ****** feel at a time.


tell me,
Is cowardice hard to live with?
©jp
Julia P Sep 2016
Fragility is the annoying taste of not broken.

I think about picking up a habit. Even a bad one. Like smoking.
I haven't talked myself out of it. Of which I'm not sure what to believe.
What does it say about me, character or trajectory?

Belayed anger. Or suppressed.
At night, my subconsciousness likes to do what I can't bring myself to do during the day.
Scream and slap people. Yes, i slap people. Not one. Not two. But three.

Because of such processions of my brain- i think about bad habits.
Like smoking.
The issue is-
I quite like breathing.
"it's all a side effect of being human."

©jp
Julia P Jan 2016
There are nights as if to numb,
Would persist to cringe the sight.
Issue badges to the scars-
For the sake of cover-ups.
©jp
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