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Justin Hodges Nov 2012
This morning,
I got a ***** while eating an apple.
I was thinking of you,
moving my mouth over the tender flesh.
Take that as you will.
Justin Hodges Oct 2012
I have never had *** before
I know, strange for someone so ******* attractive
But no, I have never made sweaty collisions with my fingers or tongue
Maybe this is why my words always make me feel so clean
I have never been taken in, swallowed whole, been savored or regretted
No attention has ever been paid to please my physical body
I have not been touched, soiled, used
Dear Modern Society, you are not alone
I too find my body repulsive
I have grown used to ignoring my naked flesh pass by a mirror
Like it is a zit on the face of humanity
Turning my head away like I’m witnessing a car crash
Careful not to catch any glass in my fragile and illusionary ego
In seeing
my undesirable chest
my disappointing waist
my all engulfing thighs
my spirit-breaking stomach
I am a self portrait artist
I have forgotten the image of my face curled into a smile
I spent so long painting this mask over and over, trying to fool the way it presents itself to you
I will look better
I will look better
I will, never, look better
The thought used to make me sick
I am always experiencing severe stomach aches
Your body will never treat you kindly if you have nothing kind to say about it
I have always lusted over the future
Figured if I pretended this isn't me, I didn't have to feel any shame, any obligation to this failure
This notion is sickeningly wrong
Yes, we have been misguided
Life is not about being normal
And who says skinny is normal
Forget if your friends, your parents, the doctors
Say you are unhealthy
Bettering our character does not involve studying diet plans or counting calories
It should not be our primary goal
It should not be our way of life
An ideal we follow more closely and blindly than religion
The point is not to find acceptance in someone else or as someone else
It is to so boldly love yourself,
Fall deep for every curve like you've sank into the ocean,
Make no excuses why you hang on to your weight so tenderly for each pound is a piece of you that you couldn't dream of sparing
So that others can’t refuse to follow, and if they don’t, so be them
I, have never had *** before, with anyone, but myself
I am slowly learning, that even this, must be done with passion
Justin Hodges Oct 2012
I was ten
It was the end of my fourth grade summer
You were returning from a two month vacation to your father’s house
I couldn’t wait to come over and play gamecube with you
My mother said, if he’s home alone one more time, you can no longer be friends
We pulled into an empty driveway

She made me tell him myself
I listened to him cry
I was never taught how to handle my feelings
Red faced, scratched throat, tearless
I was never taught that some things children were not supposed to handle

I was thirteen
It was seventh grade
The teacher tells me she forgets sometimes that I am not an adult
The pastor tells me I have been granted with such great understanding
The parent tells me I am disrespectful
I say, *******
They say, not in my house
I say, ******* again
They hit me
I say nothing

I was seventeen
It was my senior year of high school
I spent night after night arms deep in the purging of your bad decisions
I had poured myself entirely into our friendship
Excuse me for expecting your understanding
Some affection for my wounds
Something in return for all of the lying, the listening, the sinning I did for your happiness
I am sorry you could only respond with unlabeled hate letters
Crossed out but not indecipherable
I apologize for loving you

He told his journal that I write emo poetry
So I cut out all of our connection
Ripped each memory out like pages of a notebook
You preferred composition notebooks
Have you ever noticed ripping pages from a composition notebook always seems to leave pieces behind
I am still clinging to pieces of our past

I was never taught how to handle my feelings
I have never felt comfort like ink blacking out a page
You couldn’t see that these splattered words are the way I bleed
My “I love yous” are pleas to look past my scars
I am too afraid to go any deeper than paper cuts
I have no idea what could be hiding inside

I am eighteen
I am tired of disconnected reality
Of ****** up mental reasoning
Of telling you I don’t know what will make me feel better
I just need to feel real

There are only so many ways to drown out your hurt
With pain, with eating, with writing, with prayer
Each builds its own layer of fat
Makes you thick skinned in more than one way

But each is avoidance
What will dwell in you until you let it breath
Let it live as a part of you

The other night I had trouble sleeping
I tried laying my hand across my chest to follow the rhythm of my heart beating
I felt no response
There was simply just too much in the way
Justin Hodges Oct 2012
You were eating packaged mini blueberry muffins.
I could feel their gummy texture,
Splashing Sugary Smell.

Did you know you're eating a lie?
Those berries are no more than fragrant flakes of
hardened syrup.

Your eyes are a similar blue,
Rotating spokes claiming their reality.
Your hair, lightened, like sugar or wheat.

You are beautiful.
"You" are beautiful.
Justin Hodges Sep 2012
We fall into hypnosis by means of suggestion.
We are conscious, as when we fall in love.
Love me. Love me. Love me.
Justin Hodges Sep 2012
I learned that dreams occur in our deepest sleep
Our scattered, uneven thoughts giving way to
unattainable desires
I wish I could reach out and feel that you're
really there
Justin Hodges Sep 2012
I pull down the passenger’s seat visor.

Blocked the sun beating bright into my eyes.

It is a repeat each day

Every morning colder, each one as bright.

I am a repeat each day

You can feel that I am colder

But I am losing every ounce of light

Soon, there will be snow

The ground no longer will worry

of being exposed.

He can sleep, and wait to wake until he forgets his worries.

My eyes, drooping, close pleasantly with that thought.

At least one of us has warmth in his future.
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