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 Jan 2013 McKinna Bunch
L Smida
Body
 Jan 2013 McKinna Bunch
L Smida
My body wildly craves abuse
It begs me to work for pain
So I push myself to the edge
Or sometimes over it
But as I am still young
In a sense, my body can handle it
Or at least I like to think so
So I'll hurt the next day
(From running 8 miles)
Or I'll puke my guts out
(From partying with people)
But anatomy is super cool
Our bodies can gain muscle
Process alcohol
Consume drugs
Experience a variety of things
But we will heal
Repair ourselves
And do it all over again

My body is addicted to attention
As well as probably yours
And his
And hers
We beg inside for pleasure
We work ourselves to find someone
Or something
To make us feel better
(At the top of our game)
A significant other to touch us
Or a sweet sweet to munch on
Or a work out to sweat it out
And we are young
So we want as much as we can
(We can't get enough)
To last us the rest of our lives
And experience is part of it
I want as much experience as possible
Because in all honesty
I don't know what I like till I try it
Pretty much that goes for everyone
(Most of the scary stuff is in your mind)
Get past it
I crave experience
Good or bad

My body thrives on achievements
It begs me to keep up the good work
I push myself because I'm young
Things are easier to do now
Compared to later
I see older people struggle with everything
I want to keep these muscles I have
So I will work them hard now
(I will run and lift weights)
I want to keep my mind open
And I'll experience a bunch of things
(Drugs, drinks and ***)
So I will have fun crazy stories to tell when I'm old
Cause that's all old people are good for
Telling good stories
Right?
So I'll continue my journey
Through all the new experiences to come
The only thing I wish
Is that I would've started this journey
A LONG TIME AGO
(I've wasted half my youth)
And that disappoints me deeply
You only live once.
You only live once.
You only live once.
I hear it every ******* day.
As if it’s something that I need to be reminded of.  
I hear it so often that at this point I wonder,
if it means what it used to.
You only live once.
It’s a scary phrase to me.
I dislike hearing it.
It’s this constant reminder that this life is limited.
It’s a constant reminder that this life is fragile.
It’s a constant reminder that I don’t get do overs.
It’s a constant reminder that I won’t get the chance to do everything I need to
It’s not enough time to break,
it’s not enough to heal.
It’s not enough time to inhale
It’s not enough time to exhale.
It’s not enough time to talk.
It’s not enough time to walk.
It’s not enough time to listen.
It’s not enough time to understand.
It’s not enough time to meet.
It’s not enough time to befriend.
It’s not enough time to start.
It’s not enough time to finish.
It’s not enough time to help.
It’s not enough time to be helped.
It’s not enough time to be sad.
It’s not enough to be happy.
It’s not enough time to paint.
It’s not enough time to write this poem.
It’s not enough time to love.
It’s not enough time to be loved.
It’s not enough time.
I don’t know,
maybe it’s just me,
writing this poem at 1:30 in the morning.
Stewing on the fact that this life it too short,
to accomplish anything.
Every night I struggle to sleep with the thoughts of the upcoming day’s events.
With the thoughts of that past day’s events.
I’m kept up at night distracting myself from all the mistakes I’ve made.
All the words I never said.
All the opportunities I didn’t take.
All the times I didn’t "only live once".
I sit here realizing this cliché doesn’t apply to me at this point in the night,
or rather the morning.
I’m realizing all the times I’m kept up like this,
I’m not living,
I’m forgetting how to.
You fade...
Like a bruise.

Like the ones your mouth left on my neck and shoulders with its lustful pressure.
Your teeth, which brought moments of bright pain/pleasure,
Are now bared in an artificial, animal smile.

Your lips, which parted to ******* skin like it was salvation,
Barely part now to speak to me.
You whispered my name like a prayer.
You screamed it like a curse.
You sighed it in contentment,
And now you won't even speak it in passing.

Your hands, which half-playfully pulled my hair...
Now won't pause to brush it from my face.

All these parts of you,
None more telling than your eyes.
Those new windows, which once let me pry...
Now have blinds drawn tight behind them,
Leaving only a pretty, shiny reflection-
A passing, glancing imitation-
Of the passion they once held
When they beheld
Me.

No color left to them but the muddy colors of
Boredom,
And possibly mistrust.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Like the one you left on my mind with your brilliant conversation
And beautiful, rusty prose.
Like the many you left on my tongue...
Which now can speak nothing but trite and meaningless words,
Which now can barely remember the shapes
Of all the shimmering, liquid phrases it spoke to you
That seemed so important at the time.

You fade...
Like a bruise.
Once lover and friend,
Now barely one
And never the other again.

— The End —