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Quinn Oct 2014
sometimes it feels as if
i fold myself up into
origami, each limb
littered with tiny creases
so that i can fit inside
of the box created for me
by society, my family,
and at times, myself

i become so small,
so easily lost and forgotten,
but i am always beautiful,
and perhaps, that is
the saddest part
Quinn Oct 2014
i've spent my life channelling
my anger because the people
around me never accept
the words that i need to say

i am a selfish slob who knows
nothing, forever, i am a child
with a messy bedroom, a *****
who just doesn't know when
to stop, a crazed woman with
too many emotions, a drama
queen spinning out of control,
a brat with bad intentions

i know who i am - it has taken
strange and twisted roads to know
the face that stares back at me
in the mirror - but i do know her

i do not wish for anyone else
to know her if the knowing does
not come naturally, if it is forced
and unpleasant, then i would
rather be alone with her

for me, the knowing is all that
i have ever wanted or needed,
the most honest relationship
i have ever had is with myself
Quinn Oct 2014
writing poetry daily,
hating you for not
loving me enough
to say it to my face
before i ran 3,000
miles away

i know that the bottle
grips your neck
and swings you onto
sidewalks, but let's
be real, that
excuse isn't one
Quinn Oct 2014
this place is masterful
in the art of illusions

one minute the walls
are closing in, and the
next the doors are all
locked and there are
no windows from
which you could
leap to safer ground

i stand in the kitchen
and try to be helpful,
but when washing
sharp knives i have
thoughts that i can't
even write down

there is a man in
the living room, but
he mimics a robot,
spending his days
repeating and repenting,
trying to lure us
into the fold

i feel alone amongst
eight, like everyone
looks through me,
misunderstands my words,
forgets my intentions

fading into corners
and under floorboards,
soon, i will be a ghost
Quinn Oct 2014
i know it's not
really my problem,
but it still *******
****** me off

your carelessness,
your selfishness,
your unending
appetite for
something i don't
even want
around me,
that's what
******* ******
me off

reel it the **** in,
man up, grow up,
get it together,
let go of what
holds you back,
then, call me
Quinn Oct 2014
collision -
head on into
something i thought
i'd lost
before i found

finding doesn't
rid you of
loss,
but the weight
of it all
can either suffocate
or liberate you

the thing
we must always
remember-
we never
walk
without a
choice
Quinn Oct 2014
we spent our days
locked away in room-
plywood levels of madness
with red lights lacing the top

i was always seeing double
through camera lens and
whiskey goggles

these were my friends,
the bearded boys that could
have passed for homeless men

butkisses and parades,
that's how we partied,
day in and day out,
sun up and sun down

when one left, he was
never replaced, but a cutout
of his face stood as a
reminder that we would
all eventually go

gloved hands held
cheap bears, and cassettes
filled up all of our fears-
did you? covered in
shaving cream, bras in
the oven, deep fried
monstrosities called
ice cream

we fell in and out of
beds, onto wood floors
filthy with forties, and
labels reminded us of
the difference between
windows and walls

hands printed memories
on flesh and fabric,
as organs were kept
alive in the attic by
a stroke of their keys

i could return to the
porch with no railings
and relive each moment,
each night that reeled
us in and spit us out,
sloppier than the saliva
that landed on the sidewalk

these were my friends-
wasted, wandering and free
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