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M Clement Jun 2015
It's funny,
He thought to himself.
As the stubble on his chin grew
ever more coarse.
He had shaved it, of course,
to gain some sort of traction in his life,
to contain some sort of control.

Does he really have it?
Ultimately, he'd probably answer no,
but that has never stopped him anyway.

He still has her picture up in his room.
It's funny, because he realizes that he just realized this.
Yet he's so ready to let go.

He turned to whatever he could to wash away the her
he had created in his mind,
whatever felt good.
Be it ****, *******, alcohol, whatever...
It never made him feel "better".
He called it his "tantrum".
That made it fit to the letter.

And then it was over.
As if scales had fallen from his eyes,
and he saw everything for what it was,
and for who she was.

And thank the Good Lord,
he felt at peace again.
Breakups is hard, especially when you have a massive jumble of emotions that you don't know what to do with, and even if you did the whole "splitting up portion" yourself, if you love someone, that's hard.
I guess what I came to realize is that I loved my perception of someone, not the someone I was with... or I didn't love her in the way I thought I did. So there's that.
Styles Jun 2015
With an essence of a  sultry indulgence that will entice
as often as it excites;
       my words seek passage --
                       penetrating your psyche,
                       as they crawl across your thoughts.
                       serenading your mind with
                       lustful passages;
                       littering your innocence
                       with filth --
                       saturated in honesty
                       dripping with vivid insight;
                       conceived through insanity.
                       raging with passion.
Justin S Wampler Jun 2015
She danced away
in the falling rain
of one dollar bills,
under the clouds
of swirling blue
cigarette smoke.

Strobe lightning
blinded the crowd
in seductive pulses,
as the loudspeakers
thundered booming
bass into their ears.
Emily May 2015
And as he leaves me with his words of wisdom
His blessing
I am expelling every sound he utters away from myself
I flinch from his touch
A pat on the back is like acid on my skin
In his presence I am forced to tape myself up
Whether it is to keep myself from exploding or from falling apart I still don't know
But there are times when my pieces begin to shake and quiver so violently that I start to leak and a storm rages in my head while the rain escapes through my eyes
It is in that moment that I scream at him to leave, without making a sound
And it scares me that he knows what I look like naked
because he has stared at women with my same body on the internet and has drooled over the same curves and lumps that I have
And it scares me how he can sound so sane. So sane that he convinces himself that he is stable
And it scares me that no one but me and my mother will ever truly understand how distorted his thought process is
All this fear and anger sit, rotting inside my stomach and at the center of the mass of hate, there is a spot of sadness for the good dad that left when I began to understand the things a young child should not be able to understand
Day 4
Cat Fiske May 2015
you,
                         drowned,                                                      
  ­ me,      
                and,
now i'm trying to get...*                 **sober,
christian right.
10w
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
A slap on the face during a good hard *******.
.


Getting you off really gets me off.
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
Kneeling before me
she played with her ****
while leaning her head back,
running her tongue out
and closing her eyelids.

Thus I covered her
with the essence of
my meager manhood.
Noah Apr 2015
When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because the world around me is ending in my mind
slowly fading into something without meaning
until I cannot breathe and I have to leave
to go cry in the bathroom.

When I am in my statistics class I cannot focus
because there is a boy there who looks like my favorite **** star
I know what his ***** looks like
     or might look like
     Schrödinger's **** in a box.

I cannot help but stare at him and
picture him in gym shorts and no boxers
or cargo pants and no boxers
or just in boxers
or.

It's an uncomfortable feeling of morbid intrigue that
makes me tap my toes too fast.

I want to know him.

I want to tell him that
I love the way he smiles
and laughs and communicate s
and makes sure everyone is safe and happy.

I can only watch **** that has behind-the-scenes features.
It's comforting to know that
everyone is happy and
everything is consensual and
everyone is having fun.
I get too invested in these people, too attached -

One time I had to give up
and take a moment to breath
because I was just so overwhelmed with pride
Like a parent watching their kid graduate after all their hard work.

And that feeling is not okay.

And seeing that boy in my class is not okay,

Because I feel so proud of all he's accomplished
So when he answers a question right in class all I can think about is
When he ****** a **** on camera for the first time
And the first time he licked whipped cream off another man's *******
And it's very distracting.

When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because I start to worry that I will fail this class
and then I start to worry that I will hate my future
and then I worry about having a future in the first place,
bunching up into an unfocused, panicking, asthmatic mess.

The **** star boy is a distraction.

It's because of him that I'm passing this class.



( and in a way, a stupid, silly way,
it's because of him that I'm alive. )
Madeline Janisch Mar 2015
Body appreciation is important. Learn to love the skin you're in. Yes, i posted a picture in which I am in my underwear. What more is showing than me wearing a swimsuit? Nothing more. Why is it okay for men to walk around without a shirt on but considered unacceptable and pornographic for women to be seen *******? Who created these rules? Who decided it was okay to discriminate against women? I don't ******* want to be "sugar & spice & everything nice," I want to be my own person. I am powerful. I am mad about stereotypes and "boundaries" placed on women. I don't ******* like the color pink, why is that a problem? I like blue, but I was raised in pink tights and pink dresses. I am breaking free. I am being my own unique person. A powerful woman.
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