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Brando Feb 25
the wind whistling outside my window
dying to get in
wanting to intrude on my conversation
the loud snores of the two bodies that lie beside me
not a sound travels into the room
we are the perpetrators
my room full of concepts
i can no longer focus on the conversations
distracted by the cries of the wind
and the roars of the beasts inhabiting my bed
i must keep quiet
for the noise has begun to intensify
quiet hrs on the floor
silence approaches me, with a request
i explain that it's not me but them
the voices and the wind and the beasts
the conversations now sound like thunder
all in an effort to rid of the pollution
silence has broken through  
forcing my hand, i give in to his request
my lips have been sealed by those small chalky tablets
as the conversations within die off
the screams now become a whisper
a warm, endearing figure now lays beside me
good night silence
till we meet again
it is 3:38 am, a boy asleep in my bed and my roommate snoring louder than him. I am stunned by the amount of sound begin created between the two of them and the wind. would you even believe that it was quiet hrs on my floor.
Bridget Owens Feb 2018
"One, two, three..."
White circles hit his hands
"Four five six... seven"
"Seven is 21 milligrams"

More than enough you see,
More than enough for deep sleep

Doesn't he want more though?
More than 4am alarms
More than mid afternoon naps
More than hugging pillows

I know he craves something deeper
They've given me a new drug that helps me sleep
Because I only got a couple hours this week
My best friend says I shouldn't rely on the dope but
Truly it's the only thing that gives me hope
And I'm sorry if I look like I've been falling apart
But last night I got too drunk at my old boyfriends apartment
And we only broke up cause he's an *******
And I can't take constant annoying harassment
To be honest I'd rather be on my own
By they say a home alone isn't a ******* home

-E (c) 2017
hadley Jan 2016
and into her I would channel the seas
let them erode at the darkness
file away the rough edges
fill her up so that she felt whole again
onto her
tattoo a thousand words convincing her of her own worth
etch them into her skin before she could wash them away
let them bleed through the empty pores
and sprinkle into her eyes
paint a world
a blank canvas
hand her a paintbrush
I'd remind her that she is more than he could ever build her up to be
that she was seeing the world through a lens distorted with Melatonin clouds and painkiller ocean

— The End —