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Kathryn Chapman Jun 2015
mouses in houses in holes on the wall
they crawl and they tiptoe and mingle and fall
they ruin your **** and leave gifts on the floor
why don't we have mice holes anymore?
Kathryn Chapman May 2015
i wonder what would happen
if i stopped the music
would the blood stop, too?
or is that just my brain?
my happiness?
my sanity that slips away so quickly, so **** swiftly
day by day
hour by hour?
the minutes pass
but not the feelings
drowning deep
into my body
so deep
into my mind
no one can find me
and all that's left is a shell
a walking personality of lies
a walking lie of personalities
spewing words
perfection of syntax
how could she possibly be gone?
she's so there, so present
but autopilot is deceiving
deep in the confines of my brain
the brain, the mind, the sanity i lost so long ago
is the ability to lie through teeth
lips
tongue
the only parts left of me.
Kathryn Chapman Jan 2015
Carved into my thighs
Are the names of the men I've ******

Every time a new one comes along
They can read with their fingers the names of the fallen soldiers
The names of the deadbeat dads
The names of the married men
Who have touched me
If only physically

I can feel them every time I touch myself
Clothe myself
Hurl over the toilet to appear unattainable
Every time I make love or hate
Why would we talk about it?
He doesn't want to know about my past
Or the men I've been with

I'm just here to be enjoyed for the moment
What the **** is a future and a past?
Kathryn Chapman Mar 2014
Last time I saw you
You stabbed me as we hugged goodbye
With the pen that drips your name
Onto the pages that celebrate your sins.
Kathryn Chapman Mar 2014
It's amazing how easy it is
To drink you up
Like alcohol
Good for now
Bad in the long run
Enjoying the bitterness of your flavor

Appreciation of ail/ale is a learned behavior
This isn't something we ever would have enjoyed without training

Yet I drink it everyday
Like water
Like I need it to live.
But it kills me.
This is meant to be read aloud, this the ail/ale.
Kathryn Chapman Mar 2014
We laid in bed all night, your touch churning emotion
So hot, my heart melted
As we spread out bodies across the covers
And I ate my words, like butter.
Kathryn Chapman Mar 2014
Passion isn't an emotion; it is emotion
Feed your fire and let it burn you
Let it scar you with permanence
Let it engulf you in flames
And crawl away from the ashes
Let it make a Phoenix of you.
This is semi inspired by Bulowski's "find what you love and let it **** you" poem.
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