Tailoring tailors,
Tying treacherous threads,
To tops of cloths,
Timeless tools,
Tertiary Trigates,
Tumbling tellingly,
T'words the tornado,
Twisting upon the toiled soil,
Clawing its way to salvation,
Never quite making it there.

CPM 22h

i wrote nineteen poems that carried so much of my vulnerability, confusion, self-love, emptiness, lust, self-destruction, and etc. that I felt all in that time.

Stuck.
I woke up every morning having bad habits that were difficult to let go of. It began to be a routine to go on with my day with toxic thoughts, actions and feelings.

Most times, it takes more than just nineteen poems to heal, sometimes it take thirty-two, eighty-seven or even a hundred. However, in that amount of time, you have grown stronger than the last poem you've written. And when you look back at all those words you poured out so effortlessly, you have not realized how much pain you gone through and survived. You are a healing wound, and your body and mind is working wonders without you even knowing every second of the day.

You will wake up one day, feeling exhausted for letting this heaviness weigh you down for so long and you'll realize you're meant to do more than just fall.

-you fell, but you will survive and live

CPM

Don't complain if your're facing hard moments in life.
Challenge yourself to face it, challenge yourself to beat it.

Set the mood
Redline
Build the hill
Fill that stem
Inhale. Hold it in.
Take that breath
Relax. Just relax.

I'm  waving the smoke away
Both hands  extensions of
the atrium  that primes the pump
I'm  beating as bleating
Green veil  is parted re  -  vealed
Reveals  the one I'm afraid of  -  the
old me

I'm  counting days defeated
Dead days  used my blood took
the look that I sculpted and weaponized  - it
as something other

Set the mood
Lazerhawk
Build the hill
Fill that stem
Inhale. Hold it in.
Take that breath
Relax. Relax. Relax.

How am I  a slave to myself  I wonder
I wonder

How am I  a slave?

How am I  a slave to myself  I wonder
I wonder

I  ride the ghost train
I  deify  the old ghosts  -  I
I  never meant to board forever  -  I
Am shadow. Am product. The Ubik.
I  deify  the past as answer  -

nothing left to say
nothing left to say

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Nine is the number. 3 x 3. The grid and the line's end.

That weekend was unlike anything else.
The music.
The sights.
The touches.
The laughter.
The feeling.

My lips still tremble at the thought of yours pressed against mine.
They stretch in a smile when I think about oatmeal now.
They burn when I think about your skin.

My hands trace this keyboard like they are tracing your skin; lightly and hungry.
They tingle when I think about your hands in mine.
They crave for more. More.

My eyes search for yours in the night, to see your peaceful face.
They roam the skies looking for a glimmer of you.
They gaze into the future in hopes you'll still be there.

That weekend was unlike any other. I cant wait for many more with you...
but now I wait and long for you, yet I feel like I am the only one yearning for the other...
still uncertain of your feelings but I know mine and that gives me hope.

Mims 6d

"I love you"

"thanks, I love me too"

"you're a real bitch you know that?"

"trust me, I know."

Stop
N Nov 9

I long for the day where I will be able to look at a knife or parallel lines and imagine nothing but their real purpose.
I long for the day where I can't bear to give myself any pain.
I long for the day where I will be able to love myself.
I hope that I can reach those days and that I don't give up before then.
I hope that those days are soon.
Because I'm beginning to run out of time,
and i don't think I can make it much longer.

liv Nov 9

i may not have it all together, but with you i have it all

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