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1.7k · Dec 2011
Speeding
Lauren Young Dec 2011
i’ve got a friend
her name is speed.

i’m raging 100 miles per hour
and she pins my
eyes open when i
try to sleep.

she makes me thirsty
and causes me
to clench my teeth.

i can’t ever eat,
it’s not allowed.

my tongue is a cactus.
my tongue is a cactus.
my tongue is a cactus.
my tongue is a cactus.
1.7k · Dec 2011
Past life
Lauren Young Dec 2011
Life was playing swiftly
like a car wreck.
And people
were muttering softly
about all those hot,
sweaty,
smelly,
*****, summer nights
drowning in beer and
unruly speak.
Lauren Young Dec 2011
I’m bleeding tremendously down my face
I almost escaped.

It’s 5am, we walked the streets and had a cigarette
You tell me about yourself, “God”
It seemed so innocent, only walking

We left with no words
Such harmless individuals with no intentions
We were just happy and free

That’s not my name- I lied.
Cause you pigs are just trying to make bank  
at the end of the month.
So close to making it.
I’ve got dirt grinding between my teeth
And my face is
soaked a crimson red
pooling under my eye
dripping into my mouth
“Call paramedics!”
“but I’m fine, I’m fine.”
I’m trying to cooperate now.
You must think I’m ******* insane

There’s no panic in me
only sorrow.
Up against the car
ambulance head lights
******* blinding me.
You’re already in the back of the car
the overhead light casting onto your face
you mouthed the words so calmly
“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay”
I tried to believe, I tried to cry.

Back up arrives
******* ******* are having
a ******* fiesta.
But the paramedics are nice
just stop taking pictures of me, please.

I collapse onto the ground
against the vehicle
with my vision spotted
so close to passing out.

They decide we can ride in the same vehicle.
“You like to swim, God?” you asked.
“When I was a kid.” he’s blunt.
“Why not now? It feels just as good as it did
when you were 10.”
But he didn’t answer.
And the sun is lighting the city that I love

There’s massive sliding doors
they crash so loudly
the sound ricochets off the cement walls.

We’re escorted inside
I still haven’t shed any tears.
We remove all jewelry
un-weave  all that’s tangled in our dreads
“They want everything in this ******* bag.”
the policeman said.
they cut the strings from my ******
christmas tree shorts

I’m given beige sandals
my soiled feet are too small.
I take a seat on the cement bench
filthy old ***** eyeing me up and down
grinning freakishly.
I look ******* haggard.

I see the counselor
then attempt to use the bathroom
to open the door on
some old **** ****
taking a ****.

Infomercials drone
obnoxiously.
I hate television.

You take a seat next to me
wearing the hideous sandals as well.
So cold, the alcohol is wearing off
you hand me your paisley flannel.
I bleed on it.

If only we had stayed behind that building
smoking our cigarettes
sharing our minds.
Only 4 more minutes till
the paper would have burned to the filter
would have made all the difference.

I see the nurse.
I’m re-bandaged trying to hold back
my shutters of pain.
His kind words and soft speak
bring me to my first tears
“I’m not like this, I just want to sleep…
in my bed… with my cat.
And my family… Oh my Godddd!”
I’m bellowing as quietly as I can.
And he tells me stories.

I’m allowed to make my phone call
and it’s your turn with the nurse.
Mother.
I’m wallowing into the phone to her
I’m frantic and self-loathing
And she’s coming to save me.

Escorted to your waiting cell
I’m alone now
I feel completely alone.
I’ve lost myself somewhere
between bottles and spent cigarettes.

Taken to the waiting cell
it smells putrid like a public bathroom
which jolts me.
I take my seat on the repulsive floor.

There’s an older obese woman
curled into a ball in the back corner
sobbing.
And everyone looks ******.

The clock is creeping to 8am
******* let me out.
I watch the lazy pigs
******* cackle and stand so proudly
like they earned another
notch in their belts.

Close to 10am I receive my “blues”
and yet another photograph
You in your cell,
give me comforting smiles.
******* **** hollers,
“Awh **** baby! You tried to run!
I’ll bond you out!
I gotcha baby!”
****. Off.

The blond woman takes us upstairs
through metal detectors, crashing doors,
coded rooms, surveillance cameras.
And I’ll never forget
her spidery eyelashes.

I drag my mesh bag on the floor
it contains my blankets and toothbrush…
#36.

I’m lost, everyone there
has been there before.

I just disappeared
no one knows
what happened to me
when they awake.
I let everyone down,
including myself.

The lunch food is served
I want to *****
I’ve been awake for
23hrs and the alcohol is
wearing off completely
I feel like a walking corpse.

#36…
Through the slit of window
I can see you, mother
oh, mother.
please don’t leave me here

I try not to fall asleep
because I could miss the intercom
announcement to release me.

That steel door clicked
and opened
my mother and father stood up
and I had never been happier to see them
It was silent other than my sobbing
and everyone stared
wild-eyed and confused
as I exited to false freedom
and sunshine
1.2k · Dec 2011
forts & "family dinners".
Lauren Young Dec 2011
in a hot town house

on the east side

we built a fort upstairs

in the middle of summer

and watched movies

and drank Canada House with tea.

it was lovely,

the essence spilling out

in waves

as the sound of the birds chirping

echoed through the window

and we dressed elegantly

and cooked a fancy meal.

family dinners.

*** and orange juice

while we cooked.

and smooth jazz while we ate.

i haven't felt that alive

in quite some time.
990 · Dec 2011
How people become homeless
Lauren Young Dec 2011
No direction
no cigarettes
no money
nowhere to go,

stranded.

No sleep
I watch the people walk by
I watch the cars
and the rain

People go home to their families
people go home
and want to die.

Nostalgia.

Sunlight pours through the haze
for a moment
and sinks
away

I think of you
often
maybe too often

You’re ******
just like me
all me do is drown,
drown,
drown.

Lust drunk *****
waiting,
waiting to destroy
unintentionally destroy others
then theirselves

and weep
for the past.

There’s strangers everywhere
watching
questioning my motives…
a man at the table next to me give me the eyes

All I want
is a cigarette
one **** smoke.

Ah, God, I lost the notion
strangling,
tangling,
growing roots to my sick,
sad,
soul

The people I witness
coming into shopping malls
are like rabid animals

Wild eyed and gazing
targeting their next material purchase
to try to fit into society
killing off humanity with selfishness,
selflessness

Scared children,
holding their mothers hand
growing up to be fools
to fit into this place

With eyes like knives,
awaiting your presence
to rip your insides out onto the pavement
and ******* eat you alive.

In the car
watching
the leaves thrash the pavement
the breeze is hollow and unforgiving

I think, and I don’t want to be here
when the cold front blows in
and releases it’s chaos.

I’m so ******
half dead,
like the light in your eyes.

This is how people become homeless
This is how people make it big.
775 · Feb 2012
coming clean.
Lauren Young Feb 2012
more than anything

i’d sit in the greenery

while it wraps up to my knees

and you’ll speak in unfinished messages

and we’ll all glisten with a shining aura

and a mask of invincibility.

the epic drag of nights past will diminish

and bleed out of our pores

as we gaze towards the sun

and

burn white holes into the picture we perceive.

there wont be any eerie waves of emptiness

because the grass will grow into our bones

and flow in our veins

while we feel the soothing abrasions from the

scalding black top beneath our feet.

it’ll warm our souls for eternity

and we’ll feel every heavy word

enter our minds

in different shades of color.

we can find contentment in ourselves

as we scream for an eternal happiness

that fills our lungs with every struggle for air.

surviving will become more real

and will heal our aching bones

and pluck the embedded thorns of regret

from our numb eyes.

we’ll feel whole.
we’ll feel whole.
we’ll feel content.
we’ll feel whole.
we’ll feel real.

the sun will radiate

an incoherent essence

that blesses our eyelids.

we’ll bury the bullets that we kept

on our nightstands

for a rainy day.

i’ll feed the flesh of my sorrows

to the once rabid creatures who lay

in the river banks.

they’ll engulf it like

it once did to me and i’ll

throw my mistakes downstream.
627 · Dec 2011
living with you.
Lauren Young Dec 2011
i stay up hours after you
so i don’t have to listen to you breathe
very long
after i lay down

i’m frustrated
with you
and the way you move your mouth
and
your skin, your crawling flesh
one-track mountain-******* mind

i stay up late and listen
listen to the coyotes howl in the distance
and i realize i love it here
and i realize i hate it here

you stained my room
with your scent of ***** clothes
and you’ll be leaving soon

and all I’ll have left is
the smell if filthy socks

and you don’t care anymore.
596 · Dec 2011
nostalgia 2.
Lauren Young Dec 2011
i got a job

i have no car

i’ve got chaos

and on the verge

of being an alcoholic

here i am

nostalgic.

half alive

never asleep,

you either.

on the bathroom counter

on the floor

with words crashing to the ground

the nostalgia.

no more birds in the morning

no more rain

and the chaos

it’s so beautiful

like the most traumatic sunset

where the sun sinks low

over the water

and you’re free

the song on repeat

i wonder how i’m

even alive.

why

i still choose to

wake up by your side.

like an undercover darkness

raging against the mass

of reality

bringing me to a medium.

everyone knows

everything goes.

so infinite

in the haze of

the sun

like children

with guns.

at any minute

left to bleed out

for the next flesh

to cleanse.

no more waves to

wash

away the insanity.

when you’re gone

i-

when are you leaving

my god

go before the snow.

the foliage

is like an open wound

ripping wire

through my throat

i need to go.
561 · Dec 2011
Autumn, you're unruly.
Lauren Young Dec 2011
Can you see it?
The cold in your breath
the quickness of your steps.

I don't feel the animals sound
in my ears
anymore.
But only the eyes in the trees of fear.

Don't you want it so bad?
The sound and the flow
of the world breathing.
Another body's dead
from the fathomed snow

"So isn't time fast?" I ask
to the howling wind at my window

Did you feel then,
how you do now?
Is this nonsense making you proud?

The clouds of agony engulf the sky
the colors die of thirst
and the cats don't come home from time to time,
all the people I know are committing a crime,
and our pockets can barely hold a dime.
555 · Dec 2011
nostalgia 1.
Lauren Young Dec 2011
like that feeling when the seasons change

or when you can remember how the places felt

around you

at that particular point in life

almost tasting the air.

and it hangs

it hangs so heavily in your stomach

suspended there

with no release.

it used to be such an eccentric feeling

and i wonder

if i’ll ever have that same feeling

walking through empty houses

down busy streets

in the car

or with someone else.
499 · Dec 2011
Figured it out.
Lauren Young Dec 2011
i think, and i realize

how far can i go

*******

******* up

getting ****** up

and then not be okay with things anymore.

when will i wanna change?

and will i know how?

i need new scenery. everything is too worn out to me.

always blame the season.

i don’t remember how to feel anymore.

but i do remember how it felt.

and i keep spending time with people who

don’t know how to feel either.

and we just dig holes with each other.

it’s ultimately ******.

and the reason we don’t ever mean that much

to each other is because

we’re ****** up.

but that’s all we want, we say.

the right amount of insanity or else they get the boot.

it’s no fun if they’re completely sane.

it’s no fun if they wont damage their brain with you.

always trading lovers in, fading out.

people are beautiful

the crazy people are beautiful

with their slightly broken smile

daily fixes

and unruly speak

they all forgot how to love

but lust all the same

breaking at the seams

of how things used to be

thinking it was better before

we got here.
470 · Dec 2011
Blank
Lauren Young Dec 2011
There's nothing there
for a person to love.

A cold hope
that only seems accepting
and possible
with the dream weavers
giving courage to the day.

As you inhale
and surely know
you're burning your body

and there's got to be
a reason

or two...

A lonely blank page
Awaiting love and attention
no idea what's to come of it
and ****,
those pages
are
just
like
us.
454 · Dec 2011
September 7, 2010
Lauren Young Dec 2011
There were always lights
and people.
Familiar strangers,
but nothing more

and the drinks always overflowing
gripped tightly
in each's troubled hands

Each dialogue I feel
is a waste to write.

But for a few hours
you're able to feel

infinite,

and interested,

while it's still in your system.

— The End —