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Last week, if I were flooring, I would be carpet.

Like in the way of,
how easy it is to get stained.
how hard it is to clean once it is.
how it just never seems to quite "fit" with the rest of the interior,
"especially not in this house".

But mainly it's in the way of how it is walked on.
Their feet drag through it,
causing the slow damage,
with little care for something that requires such high of maintenance.

Depression is like a carpet.
I know why people rip it up now.

I envy those who can.
The nursery, a womb
   where fantasy begins

The clay, the permission
  for the sculptor to sin

The keyboard, the staircase
  to a heavenly score

The day, once forsaken
   —its daydream records

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
I found something in a quiet beach
A new life I could take with me
With no owner, with no known name
It was mine, and it was to be.

I discarded the one I wore
I inhabited the new shell
With no memories of my old dress
It was peaceful, and all was well.

The sky was blue, with twinkling stars
The ground felt wonderful again
I took all my dreams and made them true
I sang my songs without much pain.

I met more people than before
I discovered things I never knew
I started again, I then soared
In a dreamland without a clue.

Then I stalled and crashed to the cold dead earth
With tattered remains of torn cloth
A reminder, that it was all unreal
That no one here gets another shot.

I sewed it together, what I could
And roamed around, a vagabond
Treading lines between 'want' and 'should'
With sore scars of a lass well conned.
You took my heart
and ripped it in two
because everything
you said about me
was true
#heartbreak #shame #painfultruth
You're my joy,
And my grief,
My peaceful rest,
And lack of sleep,
My only truth,
My endless fraud,
You're my heathen,
And my God,
My brightest future,
And dark past,
You're my first love,
And my last,
Source of all sickness,
And good health,
A stranger and,
My deepest self,
My rising sun,
And fallen moon,
You're the dreadful silence,
And my favorite tune,
You are my numbness,
And my pain,
My peace of mind,
And thoughts unchained,
My heart of gold,
Split in two,
Good or bad,
I dream of you.
She's got art and power
And she's not afraid to show it off
All I've got is a few bad rhymes
Chilled to the bone by an internal scoff

She's a natural born creative
Confidence like a high class egomaniac
I'm an extraordinary type of average
And fragile like a budding lilac

Try to criticize her and she will deny you
Rebuke you, refute you, and defy you
Becoming stronger, harder and better
Nothing you can do will ever end her

Imply that I might somehow be inferior
I will run, hide, and be reduced to tears
Force me to face my greatest fear
Tell me I'm not good enough to be here

That is the difference between me and her
your clothing fills the space on my floor
with such defined intention
like that of a form cast onto an abstract canvas
perfectly articulating and punctuating
wordless conversations from the night before
idk what this is but i'm really happy with it
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