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dreadfully and drearily so she picked around her nose where her ring used to be full of dead and destruction she ripped out pages of John 3.16, where her crown chakra used to feel free wistfully wishing for her black jeans with a string instead of a zipper; she now wears a gown wondering why, she contemplates in her midnight blue constellation journal: to down- right mortify me, to make a mockery, to….to, to…. to…. find me in case I pull the fire alarm and try to escape she puts together puzzles with her mother’s name in cursive in the bottom right corner and puts them together with tape begrudgingly so she ties up the used new balance sneakers she borrows and moans she wants to move her body, for her form has been stagnant, oh how she wishes to roam jogging, running, sprinting from the wolves to the butterflies and bunnies painting a stain glassed window as a holy shrine to The Queen of The Goths, she’s so spunky wondering where her soul’s mate could be in a blizzard this thick but she knows she’s been a real witch, flying into her alter ego’s psyche on a broomstick if she can infiltrate her reflection in the mirror she’ll catapult into outer space although, around her neck, she’d much rather wrap a shoelace In five days time, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, not only does the doggy door open, so does the front door, who had the key? Will the door be closing? Jogging, running, sprinting from the eyes of the doctor to the arms of the unbroken My feet are swollen My hands need lotion My thoughts are golden I am coping He is coping We are coping They are unbroken Over a basket of fish and chips, I realize I was chosen Is that a ****** up notion? I just don’t want to feel hopeless Is this excess of energy a bad omen? Back in the free world now, I’m so scared of my spirit being stolen But my energy is as vast as the ocean and potent I win, I win, I win ! But the imperialists are closing In
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Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC
the basket case
dreadfully and drearily so she picked around her nose where her ring used to be full of dead and destruction she ripped out pages of John 3.16, where her crown chakra used to feel free wistfully wishing for her black jeans with a string instead of a zipper; she now wears a gown wondering why, she contemplates in her midnight blue constellation journal: to down- right mortify me, to make a mockery, to….to, to…. to…. find me in case I pull the fire alarm and try to escape she puts together puzzles with her mother’s name in cursive in the bottom right corner and puts them together with tape begrudgingly so she ties up the used new balance sneakers she borrows and moans she wants to move her body, for her form has been stagnant, oh how she wishes to roam jogging, running, sprinting from the wolves to the butterflies and bunnies painting a stain glassed window as a holy shrine to The Queen of The Goths, she’s so spunky wondering where her soul’s mate could be in a blizzard this thick but she knows she’s been a real witch, flying into her alter ego’s psyche on a broomstick if she can infiltrate her reflection in the mirror she’ll catapult into outer space although, around her neck, she’d much rather wrap a shoelace In five days time, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, not only does the doggy door open, so does the front door, who had the key? Will the door be closing? Jogging, running, sprinting from the eyes of the doctor to the arms of the unbroken My feet are swollen My hands need lotion My thoughts are golden I am coping He is coping We are coping They are unbroken Over a basket of fish and chips, I realize I was chosen Is that a ****** up notion? I just don’t want to feel hopeless Is this excess of energy a bad omen? Back in the free world now, I’m so scared of my spirit being stolen But my energy is as vast as the ocean and potent I win, I win, I win ! But the imperialists are closing In
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23/F/chicago
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC
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