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 Feb 2017 M Harris
Mollywolly
Obsession was the name of my game.
I didn't know how to love healthily.
I allowed myself to be ****** in
By the vacuum that was you.
And in return
I crushed you.
With my hellfire
And the blood of wolves
Coursing through my veins and
You did not weather the storm
For I was not a breeze.
I was not a breeze, but a hurricane,
Bringing destruction and chaos to everything I touched.
So I walked alone
Ever searching for someone
Who could take me as I was
Who could handle the sounds of my cries
The hurricanes from my wings
And did not try and tame
What they could not.
 Feb 2017 M Harris
Mona
Gradually I'm losing interest,
Negotiating and bargaining
has ****** the energy out of me,
Every one of my reasons
has been worn out,
And the wind's wrath
has taken everything in its path,
What is left is lost
under masses of dust,
Excuses why the world
is on autopilot,
And we should sit back
And watch it burn,
Because it will burn
Whether we want it to or not,
My mind asks questions,
And what I'm met with
are not answers,
are not reasons,
I'm only met with white noise,
The sound of walking feet,
The sound of closing doors,
The sound of an empty well,
The wheels rolling,
And people sleeping and waking,
As if we're meant to learn
how to walk on this thin rope,
And never do more than breathe,
How am I supposed to sit down,
and persuade myself
that tomorrow I will try again,
I tried yesterday,
And I tried today,
But I'll always be painted
pink
and submission
in their eyes,
And I'll always be painted
"third world"
And "underdeveloped"
To the passerbys,
And sadly every color of those
is permanent.
I may not be the only one
with a breath left,
But the others who gave up
on their lungs years ago,
They're trying to mute
our sound of breathing,
To fill our lungs with soot,
To  mummify our sense of being,
To push us under the wings
of what is morally accepted,
The morals that are trending this year.
And I know it,
That eventually we will recede,
Just like history tells,
And just like I am about to
bow down and look at my feet,
And brush another crude comment
under the carpet.
Sorry for this excessive dose of pessimism. It's still 12:16 pm here. But you know when you try to sleep on something and you wake up feeling the exact same thing. So write it down is what I did.
 Feb 2017 M Harris
Becca Smith
divine diligence
pursing of the lips
digging in the dry dirt
grasping for rough roots
of the mind
toying with the temptress
of time
gazing at her long legs
they simply go on and on
her hazy eyes that swirl
with closely-held promises
of warm, wet tomorrows
soaked in sunlight
dipped in easy laughter
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