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Poetry carries the weight of
ten thoughts,
     nine feelings,
        eight emotions,
                seven sins,
                     six thoughts,
                         five complaints,
                            four heartaches,
                                three joys,
                                  two heavy eyes,
                                       one pouring soul.

Poetry fights her way
through layers
and layers of jargon,
through depths
of useless words just floating,
skimming the surface of nothing.
she claws her way
through overgrown shambles
and tangles
of unnecessary parts of speech.

Poetry slashes her way
through tumbling creepers
falling from broken terraces.
she drives away unimportant thoughts
from fertile fields of words.

i see Poetry survive against all odds -
against joy - that sweet, sweet burden.
against rationale - a double edged sword
against doubt - a ghoulish green monster

i see Poetry survive.
no, rejuvenate.

and then i know
why poetry takes a feminine pronoun.
This isn't very good
body of nature
mind of the cosmos above
spirit of the sky
.....
.......
.....
I woke up this morning thinking "Ooh, pretty poetry, wonder what lovely words graced the screen while I slept."
I woke to THIS! More crap I can't understand. What the hell? I can't work this. Now, I'm gonna go to my crap job and with out a single pretty poem to occupy my raving lunatic mind because I don't know how to work these new changes! Its 6:57 am and I'm going to have a drink!! Good day!
It doesn't matter if you comment because I can't ******* see it!
It’s one of those things
you don’t notice is gone
until it’s gone.

The last cup of coffee.
The last roll of toilet paper.
The things we use to
make Home.

The clunking of your refrigerator
magnets on the cookie sheet
followed
by a chorus
of pictures, cards, and old
grocery lists quieting their
fluttering song.

We said nothing,
like nothing even changed.

BG-Sometime in 2017
The scent of your hair still lingers at my fingertips.

I hadn't felt **** like this yet. Soft caresses and sweet kisses turned bitter by your doubtfulness. Doubtful of yourself initially, eventually landing on my doorstep like an eviction letter. I had to escape. I didn't feel held in your arms. Your touch felt cold as tears fought through stubbornness. Waves of nausea clash below my heart as it desperately tries not to drown. I can't stay.

Now I'm filled with the gaping hole that you today filled and made whole. You leave me cold, dead, exposed, naked. Lay me out on the icy steel table and cut me open for examination. Do you like what you see?
Melt me like butter with the toxic fire that resides within your fears.
When I started getting sick,
My school attendance dropped week by week.
It was a painfully slow process;
A day here and there turned into a few days,
Turned into a week, until I spent weeks off school.
My friends dropped even slower, even more painfully.
The ones I'd made at that school disappeared
Like the world's greatest magician collective.
And the ones who I'd known for years...
Well, they were too busy living their own lives.
They saw me here and there, and it made me happy when they did,
In the same way that rare glimpses of gold make a poor man smile.
But eventually the darkness of loneliness devoured me entirely,
And I receded away from everyone while blaming them.
In those days, I was a zombie in all aspects of life,
And the Internet was the only time I had a reprieve.
I was a hollow shell, grunting one-word answers to parents,
While discussing my favourite shows with online friends.
And without that online presence, I know I'd have ended it
With the shadowy hand of depression passing me the knife.
I never would've made it this far,
Where eight years have passed and I'm still close to those friends,
Where I've met up with some of them
And overcome my anxiety in ways I never thought possible.
To many, the Internet is for shallow, brainless people,
But for many, it's a lifeline, and every #selfie smile I see
Is a person thriving instead of wilting.
This is less about my favourite thing about the Internet, and more a story involving the Internet, but even so, I think the message is the same.
Black Chuck Taylor's, with motor
oiled stained laces,
always match

Black V-necks or a shirt of any
color with a Black
zip-up hoody

Blue jeans, stone washed, brand
new, old pair, new style,
always denim

Black matches everything,
looks classy, hard to keep
clean

But when blue and purple,
orange and green,

and some shades of green
and yellow look the same,

Fashion isn't so fun and shopping
becomes an exercise in humility

"Excuse me miss, does this shirt
match this tie?"

"Excuse me sir, but can you tell me
what color shirts I can wear with
these shoes?"

The world doesn't understand.
I don't see the same colors of
the world and I'm clothed
Black

not from depression,
no, not that depression,
a different kind

The kind that's only mine

The kind that can stand by you
and watch a different sunset,

The kind that sees different hues
in A Starry Night,

The kind that would love to paint,
but can't even draw the lines
to color inside of, much less
paint the right colors in the first place

It's crazy to think of seeing the world
through another's eyes
but if we ever figure it out
Hold my spot in line.
There are monsters
whispered about by sailors
in tavern fairy tales, through
nervous anecdotes

Speaking about something
will give it life
it will come to you
from the darkest corner
of the Mirror.

You are just another
swallowed sailor
from a ship with loose lips
and burnt candle mirrors

Our story is whispered
by sailors in tavern
fairy tales about the times
when the best that it is
isn’t enough to save yourself

from the darkest corner
of the mirro

BG-4/8/17
the radio is
broken again
and this time
is the last time

Your songs no longer
fight the static.

the crunchy hiss
the empty stutter
between pops

crackling cackles,
unplugged from the wall
still playing the song
of something ending
into a new beginning

Your songs no longer
fight the static

but I still hum
them to myself

at the edge
of our universe

BG-4/8/17
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