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 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
Ashley
step on the scale and cross your fingers.
step off the scale and rush to the toilet.
get it out get it out the voices chant
this food is evil
its making me fat, its making me ugly
no one will love you if you're ugly!
i want it gone, and as a plunge my finger down my throat
my body shakes
my eyes water
i contort, throwing myself against the toilet
i can feel it
the evil food is gone
there's nothing left
but if it has really gone away
then why do i still feel like this?
because its not the food that's evil,

its me.
 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
Ashley
I'm a bright blue box with a bitter black inside.

I screamed 'open me! open me!' to those who had tried.

As they peek in it takes their breath away,

how broken and sad before them i lay.

Shuttering and sobbing, i scream out: close the box!

because i know no one can undo my sad twisted knots.

shame on me for trying, who could ever care?

I wanted to be happy, but i doubt I'll make it there.

My inside grows darker, my dreams more disturbed,

but the outside still gleams blue, fake, unperturbed.

My dark insides take over, I can't turn it off

I'm trying, I'm trying, but the voices just scoff.

Happy? Loved? You? You've got to be kidding.

These things are reserved for light, your darkness is forbidding.

Close your eyes babe, and try to make it through

while your dark dark insides utterly consume you.

So come on, sit down. Make yourself at home.

Let the voices talk, let your mind roam.

Because you're trapped here darling, inside this blue box

no keys have the power to undo your locks.

Your blue box is shut. Seal it off, seal it tight.

It's simple, you just have no hope to ever see light.

The people, they leave. They don't understand.

Each time they go, unable to withstand.

You're a being of sadness, disguised as a girl

come on, fake a smile, let your lips curl.

Yes, cut yourself off, you little blue box.

Make yourself tough, a foundation of rocks.

Because not feeling anything, nothing at all,

is the sure-fire way to make certain you don't fall.
 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
Ashley
Hi Dad,do you love me?*
Why of course i do sweetheart, you're my daughter after all.
Now shhh quit talking, I'm on a conference call.

Hi Dad, do you love me?
Yes yes, of course.
But forget your mom, we're getting a divorce.

Hi Dad, do you love me?
Mhm, sure do!
but keep on working, you've got studies to tend to.

Hi Dad do you love me?
Yes, you're the bomb!
Now look the other way, while I'm hitting your mom.

Hi Dad, do you love me?
How could i not?
but if you get an A, I'll really love you a lot.

Hi Dad, do you love me?
Yes, you're beautiful, you're smart
Hope you don't mind me breaking your heart!

Hi Dad do you love me?
I do today.
careful though, i probably won't stay.

Hi Dad do you love me?
i guess you're okay
Now say goodbye as i move far far away.

Hi Dad do you love me?
Well i guess i have to
but check out my new family, way better than you.

Dad *please
, do you love me?
Why I'm afraid not
to be honest sweetie, you never had a shot

But why don't you love me, am i not good enough?
Never were honey. But quit crying, be tough.
 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
RL Smith
One night of anonymous loving
You don't remember his name
One night of love and adventure
Playing the singles game
One night to end all others
You will never be the same
No more loving for you now
No one for you to blame
Your body slowly dying
Your mind being driven insane
One night of anonymous loving
Was it worth it for the pain?
 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
biocurator
you are flowers
growing between
my railroad
ribs
The desire to be an artist,
To be a poet, to be immortal.
Knowing there's a land of words
If I can only reach the portal.
Drown in ****** and Wine
In a tub filled to the brim,
Letting France run down my throat,
Letting France run down my chin.
Words lay at the bottom
Of every bottle (or so they say)
Convincing us it's worth the *****
And the headache the next day.
Kiss goodbye the sound mind,
And enter insanity.
Welcome to the world of arts
With streets of vanity.
There stands Shakespeare on the balcony;
Kurt Cobain sits in the corner.
This place you are one
Where anywhere else you are a foreigner.
Here there is no day.
Here there is only night.
Here you sit making art
By the candle light.
But here there is no laughter,
For an artists knows no joy.
Instead here lies the dreams
Of all the dead girls and boys.
And here there is no rest,
For an artist knows no peace.
Here is the land of artists.
Is it everything you dreamed?
 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
kaylee adamz
i want to see you come
hear the noises you make
feel your body tense
next to mine
your hands in my hair
head thrown back
eyes closed
mouth agape
your pink lips invite me
to swallow your oxygen
with my kiss
it is so pretty, to me
to experience
your vulnerability
in the secret place
between my blankets
but more than anything
i want to give it to you
give you anything you need
 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
mariah
nothing
 Jan 2014 Mary Clare
mariah
and i guess sometimes
n u m b n e s s
will engulf me when
your arms don't,
and sometimes
it's better to feel
n o t h i n g;
than to feel like
*n o t h i n g
nothing, sad, depressed
personal.
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