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julianna May 2018
What would you do if you saw a girl spending pennies and pearls on food?
She gobbles it up and then she barfs, which she thinks makes her feel good.
Later that night, with her conscious she'll fight as the guilt eats her for lunch
But she'll never tell of the story where of she went to after brunch.
T  Jul 2018
Lunch Break Feelings
T Jul 2018
My heart is heavy because
I know I deserve love
But no one stays
I wonder when it will be my turn
To feel like a child -
Wide-eyed; wholeheartedly, innocently Love
I am tired of being a door
Opening their hearts; teaching them to Love
So they may give it to someone else
Must I weave a net?
But I thought love was free
How do I be as fluid
When my Love is like a stone;
Solid, sinking, ever-rounded by their passage
1 hour a day
5 days a week
It's all I had
It's all I needed
It's all it took
For me to fall in love
(with you)

Falling for a coworker? It happens. When they quit and left they took part of me with them and took the reason I looked forward coming into work.
Madeleine Apr 2018
My teacher asked all to write a poem
and to turn it in before the class ends
I don't know what to write about
except what others may
so I tell you this
that I do like this assignment
yet I don't because I can't just write a poem from thin air
for something must come to me
I am slowing down for I do not know
what else to write
I can tell you this
that this is an hour where I become hungry,
sometimes very hungry that
my stomach growls when its silent
dead silent
I guess I have more to write about than I thought
Then again its just thoughts that are coming
to my mind and spilling on to this sheet of paper
now full of words
the class is almost over
making the time fly by writing
I don't know how to end this poem
except say a few more words
one hour closer to lunch
zebra  Mar 1
Lunch Box
zebra Mar 1
the red light of sin illuminated her ankles
she, a thousand frisky demons
comfort me
as i yield blood eyes
for switch blade kisses
that push through retinas glass aperture

dark girl with a penchant for hideous pleasures
*** crimes like blatting pistons
her mothers womb twisted with regret
as i live in her hell ****** stare
******* talons that pierce ******
like diaphanous ribbons

her **** floating angels
and feet sweeten my face
in subduing rituals
of hard knocks
getting her mood up
for blowing **** loops

my nose; her **** soaked door ****
her ******; a squeeze hustle
innocent fig strained
mix meistering patterns
of extruded clay;
a pomade of raised bumpy torpedo's
fingers to *****
***** to fingers

i run to her
like bones of air
and she teaches me
in the blood of pandemonium
to make ice in hell
I will not renounce my subjectivity in favor of a sealed objectivity
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