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 Nov 2016 kaycog
Grace Jordan
1.) I hate that you ruined my chance to be a kid. You stole my childhood and teenage years, you know? We all it isn't like the movies, but I never even got a chance to try. You made me scream so quietly that when I couldn't shush you anymore it became like thunderclap, deafening anyone close. I  pushed people so far away that they became islands to me, and I couldn't swim. That, or I wanted them to love me so badly that I squeezed them into oblivion and suffocated them with my demons.

2.) I hate that I felt unloved because of you. I could have been loved, you know? It wasn't like I was a *****. There were boys that wanted me, even ones I wanted too. But you made me this tumultuous fire that too many lovers saw only as a sultry, exciting spark until it completely engulfed them, burning them to a crisp. I spent my young love years unloved and assuming any flaw was a cause for expulsion, and any affection was a sign of destiny. They both were neither.

3.) I hate that you made me feel lonely. You kept me in a tower, and fed me just enough so I wouldn't die. You gave me this grand craft that, previously, I could barely use except to stare at blank computer screens and wished my fingers could pour out the things in my head. You gave me this gift that kept me breathing, but also kept me lonely. If I didn't know how to write so well to myself, maybe I would have screamed enough for somebody to listen.

4.) I hate that you stole my intelligence. I might be brilliant. I couldn't even think about that, was convinced it was a fluke that I was so smart when I was little. But now that you've sorted out yourself, I can feel it re-emerging and I feel so sick knowing how much better I could have been; what I could've done. The years wasted, only able to use that brilliance to keep myself from cutting my own cord.

5.) I hate that you make me a lot to handle. You make me bubble with thoughts and words and sometimes, a lot of times, it overwhelms people. I'm a tornado, a twister, in constant, energetic motion. Not many people can keep up with me, and it makes me lonely. You made me lonely because no one wanted to stay; that or they couldn't. Its hard when a new person all the time.

6.) I hate that you made me so strong. I've been on the brink of death, destruction, ruin, pain, and yet I've always come back. For the severity of the things in my head that storm themselves around, I'm an anomaly. I spend half of an intake therapy session having to go into gory details of my inner workings, because without a record its not as easy for them to see me. Yet I never fall, no matter how much sometimes I wish I would. Guess, just like you, its in my synapses.

7.) I hate that you've alienated me from my family. They are nothing like me, and they don't understand me. Very few of them try, even less sympathize. Many call it a phase. Like my entire existence the past couple years is just a new level of the teenage rebellion I never had. I now know what kind of people they are, what kind of people they are capable of being. Their jokes and energy aren't worth the words they inflict behind closed doors. No family should question me on everything. No family should call my life a phase. No family should think the person I love most isn't worth it because they haven't met him.  No family should ask me to hide who I am because its better that way. I don't regret walking away. I regret having to.

8.) I hate that you make my relationship harder. I feel things too hard, and I know that's my issue. But it being such a core part of my system makes it hard for me to integrate files. We're learning, and growing, like we always do. I can't help but smile at how he motions just like I do. He's the only one I've ever met who keeps up with me. Everyone else I've always left behind, one way or another. Though hard, you do make my relationship stronger.

9.) I hate that I love parts of you, because they're my best parts. I'm already smart, but you make creativity a shade of bold that I can't even comprehend. Its hard to share with my peers when they stare at me like I'm an odd anomaly. You make me an anomaly, but as a writer, a creator, an artist, its remarkable. I can write about people like no one else I know can. I can write about emotional experiences I've never felt, but you've helped me see. If I can feel a glimmer, of that emotion, I can understand depths I've never felt. You've made teachers think I was abused, beaten, and much more, even when I wasn't. But I could feel it. My devotion to my art makes that pain a worth and I hate that.

10.) What I hate the most, though, is that I don't hate you. You have made me who I am. I wouldn't quit you, even if I had the choice. You make everything harder, and you make me scream, and you make me work. But you also help me be brilliant, and help me be understanding, and help me shine. You help me love and grow and breathe, even when you're crushing my lungs. Its maddening and barely makes sense, but I know that much. I know that no matter how angry, upset, shameful, any negative emotion, that behind it, that's not my strongest feeling towards you. My strongest is that you are one of my favorite things about me. I hate that people can call me crazy because of you, but I accept it because I'm my happiest crazy. I'm my happiest with you.
 Nov 2016 kaycog
cheryl love
He pulled up a chair
He tried to remember
It was in this square
and it was icy December.
He saw her point her toes
then she stretched her heel
Noticed how she stroked her clothes
she had so much *** appeal.
If only he could touch her cheek
She had ruby lipstick on her lips
If he did he could not speak for a week
and he noticed the curve of her hips.
Around her neck she wore pearls
draped lovingly across her chest
Her hair hung in tight curls
He closed his eyes to imagine the rest.
She glanced in is direction
He smiled his very best smile
he oozed with every affection
for he had sat there awhile.
 Nov 2016 kaycog
Nickols
"I'm not mad."

Narrator: She was angry. And maybe even a little resentful.
 Nov 2016 kaycog
Tasman Suitor
Here it is.
My downward flight,
Printed clearly in black and white.
Numbers falling
Clear to see

But behind it is the death of me.


Yet there is also
A hopeful bounce,
Signs of a demon trounced.
Numbers climbing
Clear to see

The story that is making me.
 Nov 2016 kaycog
Samual
it has never been real, but it is an eloquent lie you're being told
sadly, obviously untrue

cut perfectly along seams, missing screws carefully stored, missing handles cleanly, completely disappeared

too-perfect scratches only inspire the appropriate messy panic when they are given the benefit of the doubt

anyone can reason that there is no reason for this to be believed
 Nov 2016 kaycog
Barton D Smock
blank yard signs

radios

of the independently
poor

their babies
slow
in getting

up

doll, prayer mat, microwave

/ more time
 Nov 2016 kaycog
J
Golden Years
 Nov 2016 kaycog
J
They're called our golden years
because they're shiny, energy
pitter patters inside dollar store batteries
didn't quite fit the mold the remote control
gave them but they still managed to get by
They're called our golden years
because 1920s America were golden too,
corruption blanketed poverty,
depression plagued the youth
while beautiful violin numbers drowned out the screams
I always pictured the song that I **** myself to,
one from the jazz age,
so no one knows I was so rotten underneath
the gold I worked hard to shine
each and every day
I'm 20 now
I'm golden, now
Composing my piece to debut
before I turn 22
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