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 Sep 2019 Gravity aligns us
r
I’ve left footprints
in deserts
where no man’s been
in millennia; a thirst
not yet quenched
these dry cracked lips
can still spit out a poem
on old buzzards’
bones, trekking alone
whistling Dixie, my brother
I’ve a few miles yet to go.
Yo. :)
I hear ya, brother. Laugh with me.
We are as unconditionally loved as much as the one loving us has the capacity to unconditionally love themselves
12/23/18
He
Broke my wings
So I couldn’t

Fly

So I stole his soul
So he couldn’t

Die
I read a quote somewhere that said,
"I don't know how many times I have survived myself, without telling anyone else."

And I felt those words shoot through every nerve in my body. I felt them so deeply.

And I wonder how many of us feel the same way.

How many nights we fought off the suicidal thoughts, the urge to cut, the urge to purge, the urge to run or to hide out, alone, too afraid to worry or bother our friends and family.

How many days and nights have we all suffered in our own darkness alone?

People like us fight a battle no one can ever fathom because it's a battle no one can see. And we don't let them.

I've fought myself and survived myself alone so many nights.

There were nights I use to lose my own battle. But some how still came out alive.

I guess that's how we keep going. Because every time we give up we come out stronger.

You fight yourself and beat yourself up for so long that eventually you become a master of surviving a war.

We're warriors.

"I don't know how many times I've survived myself, without telling anyone else."

Tonight, I'm telling all of you.

I survived myself.

And if you're still here and you're reading this, you survived yourself too.

It's not easy but you did it.

And I'm so proud of you all.
The original quote "I dont know how many times I survived myself, without telling anyone else.", which triggered the whole poem was written by @deadwatered. A talented poet I follow on tumblr.
When it comes to you
I am at a loss for words
so my heart beats in symphonies
my mind will never compose
9/24/18
I have lived
life
perceiving
I am
the measly
leftovers
unworthy and stale
soiling
a perfectly good plate
rejected with disdain
and disgust
                        Until I had the courage
                        to dine alone
Now I gleam
at the absurdity
and the filthy
rotten
Domestic waste
they so intrinsically
continue to fabricate
for themselves
as I feast on the
nourishment
of my
authenticity
1/2/18
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