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Quinn Sep 2012
i am ******* dying
to be something other
than a ***** hiding from
her own shadow,
twisting herself up in
senseless wants

maybe if i tattoo my skin
or gauge my earlobes
or pierce my nose
or wear band t-shirts no one's heard of
or go to shows and head bang alone,
then, yes,
then, i will be unique,
oh ****,
there's a tumblr for that,
actually, there are a thousand tumblrs for that,
moving on...

how about i try
wearing black and
hiding from the light,
pulling away until
i only come out at night,
speaking to no one
but the notebook i carry
everywhere with me,
ah, ****, that's been done too

here, here, how about this,
i'll enter the mainstream,
get my degree,
even work a job from seven to three,
marry a **** bag
with no sense of life,
have some kids,
and pretend i take joy in being a wife,
and then, when i'm having
his colleagues over for dinner,
i'll lose it and **** them all
with a butcher knife

as i backflip over
our ten thousand dollar
dining room set
they'll oooh and aaah,
and somehow forget,
that i'm ending their mediocrity,
instead they'll think,
what yoga studio did she join?
her legs are so much more
defined than mine

and as they all lay bleeding out
over their
steak tartar,
i will smile and smooth my
perfect blonde hair,
and wait
to join the leagues
of the unforgettable
Quinn Sep 2012
i am holding my towel, mid-air,
arm outstretched,
fingers clenched,
with a millisecond to decide
if i throw it in

i hate that i've gotten this far,
but lately it's all fast forward
with little retraction, relfection, or restriction

i spend hours in the mirror
trying to see myself,
but there's this big headed *****
with green eyes full of envy
and a gaping hole of a mouth
full of excuses,
that refuses to get out of the way
Quinn Aug 2012
it's funny that they call it plan b
because usually it's more like plan d
and even then, you're not really sure
that it's such a good plan at all

and even though the pharmacist
in wegmans doesn't flinch,
you still wonder what she's thinking
and the wondering goes on a long while

i watched **** tattooed men
make me drinks with 80 proof whiskey,
and tried to forget that i ******
someone i didn't give a **** about

that maybe, just maybe,
cells had begun to multiply,
but maybe they hadn't, and i
was feeling like ****
drinking my 10 dollar drink
for nothing

the next morning i woke up,
red lipped, wild curls framing
a face that spoke of last night's failures

i stood in front of the mirror
and i captured the face of a girl
the morning after
Quinn Aug 2012
Can the unattainable be lost?
She pondered while surrounded
by the clutter of excess caused
by the burdens of consumerism.
To be on an endless journey, an
odyssey of sorts, with plenty of
valuable moral messages, but an
obvious lack of conclusion. Is
there worth? She had found
herself on such a path and
recently resolved that it was
one from which she would
never disembark. Searching
for a way to dive deep into
the sea of words swimming
within her cerebrum, in order
to pluck away the excess gunk
and strike gold. Years slipped by,
at first unnoticed, except for
the measure of improvement
upon lined pages. Still, she was
unsatisfied, and would most likely
always remain in such a state.
Somehow she had been born a
prisoner of her own mind.
Quinn Aug 2012
i always say my neighborhood's got flavor
you say i give it too much credit

but what the **** do you know
about the puerto ricans across the street
who's little girls dance on plump legs
to music that vibrates their entire house

sure, you've seen the kingpin
that lives on our corner,
but you don't know that he plays
catch with his drug dealer's kids

and all those refugees
crowding up your corner store,
they're looking for an answer
just like you are,
but the difference is they've got
nothing to fall back on
because they're thousands of miles
from a friendly face and home

so when i tell you my neighborhood's got flavor
you should really say i don't give it credit enough
Quinn Jul 2012
i fell in love to the sounds
of the sky falling down,
but the reflection of
the earth destructing
in your eyes
didn't bother me one bit

we laid there, holding one another,
knowing that we wouldn't
see this through,
that love couldn't conquer death,
but still, smiles and sighs
of utter satisfaction
lingered on swollen lips

urges of fight or flight
disappeared with each breath,
defined with depth
and even tempo, as we explored
the places we had pondered,
but never navigated before

i drowned in your arms,
and the panic caused by
the pressure on my lungs
never did come

love, the most powerful drug,
had made me numb,
and if i had to say good bye
for eternity, bare legs
tangled in fresh sheets,
wild curls on whale pillowcases,
hands holding hopeful hearts,
was the only way
i wanted to go
Quinn Jul 2012
children born from the trees
scrape their way out of bark
and cut their limbs from roots
to take flight into the starry sky
that goes on for eternity

whispers from the wind guide
them to a land where fires burn
on mountains made from remnants of
their birth place, yet their hearts don't
skip a beat, instead they dance
and sing and laugh, until they can't

journeys through grassland
yield discoveries of friends, foes, and
perhaps the most important, the key
to unlock the secrets of the skies

a map lies above them,
burning chunks of rock
eons beyond our elementary understanding,
and as they climb the tallest of their ancestors
to dip hands deep in the universe
they are enlightened and lost all at once
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