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M Harris Feb 2017
Heavy Rain,
Under the umbrella in vain,
Exigent and ostentatious,
An egotistic hostility,
Filling the purge atmosphere,
Rain drops ebbing,
Conceiving an enchanted assault.

Fenced with free fall,
Falling into zero,
A faith so sick,
Ready to twitch.

Sanctified reminiscence of a remorseful purge,
Hateful conscience of a disgusted now.

Don’t know how,
A will to amend,
A limitless descent,
Wandering in extent,
Chaos down the ascent.

Extremity too proximal,
Grey beyond despair,
A reverence so brisk,
I’m frittered and devoid of retention.
Atlas Jan 2017
When I think about you,
it doesn't give me butterflies like it used to.
Instead I feel like I swallowed a dozen knives.
Looking through old photographs of us used to bring a smile to my face,
Now I get nauseous.
I once thought I would grow old with you
But the thought of you now makes me cringe.
I gave you my trust
And you tore me apart, bit by bit.
My eyes avoid all the reminisce and fingerprints you left in my home and on my skin.
I have tried to purge you out of my head
because the thought of you makes me disgusted
But its difficult.
You spread yourself thinly through all of my favorite things.
The only thing you never touched was my poetry.
My ex was very emotionally abusive and its been hard to live knowing he touched me when I didn't want him to.
traces of being Nov 2016
back from the brink
of blindly falling;
back alone again
in a crowded room

there is no bridge
over troubled waters,
no way to purge
vast oceans
when deep rivers foment
pitch black
swallowed by an insatiable sea

no good shepherd to gather
an abandoned black sheep
cast heedlessly away
from the fold

unbefriended
like a dogless bone

a stain on impeccable sublime
a hopeless wanderer
stalled on the brink
of a threshold lost in time

purge me from your poetry
so I won’t remember
the insatiable  ache
of inerasable words
left unsaid

you lured me out
from the cold & darkness
to freeze my heart
in naked light of day

purge me from your poetry
like you spilled me
from your heart;
don’t come back here
to this slippery, lonely edge,
just to bid adieu

as if I didn't notice you were gone

purge me from your poetry
so I can accept without
sorrow's ache so deep;
in unbroken silence
a heart silent  atones not pretense,

and yet,

the only lie you whispered was "friend"



November 2016  ... wild is the wind
Lose weight
2, 5, 7, 10 pounds a week
You're still fat
Restrict no food for a week
Under 200 calories everyday
Get skinny
Too skinny
Do it
You'll just go back anyway
40 lost 9 weeks
Now we go faster and harder
Look, you're in control
Can't find that anywhere else
17 in 4 weeks
Then on 'til death
But you won't look like you have no self control like when you were 40 pounds over weight
Hey, did you know that you still need to lose a lot
Ya still look fat pig
aimee achten Jun 2016
Is it really possible for me,
to be what they want to see?
Though I've never done it before its there, the urge
it sit still as stone until violently it screams, "just purge".
The smell off food cooking is like poison yet i eat
and eat
and eat
until all I've done for an hour and a half is eat.
my skin quivers and crawls,
no escape from these four walls.
This house is like a prison cell,
all you can hear is the ringing of a bell,
though logically you no its silent,
but silence is most definitely violent.
And so the struggle begins again
to avoid that horrid gain.
Fifteen points of light,
no matter which order counted,
  fifteen points of light become one.

A year of rigor,
well documented flash and swords,
   become grainy, a grid near thin smiles.
  
Bring to me that germ, speak with me and smile.
Regulator of past or present.
  Sympathetic magic, dry bones.

Roots of the low density mountain.
Effigies or in ****** form?
This office, without light.

Movement in the belt of crust.
               A breath moves, another escapes.

Fifteen points of light removed.

Pony trick. Oats I trade for honey.
Hoarse electric wind, not cooling hotter rocks.
Stirring years.  l'Enfer

Wait.

Maybe this page is turned then torn.
(listen now as these seconds vanish)

Avec un lourd trophée à son bras puéril,

man removes himself, others follow.
22.  Parsifal by Paul Verlaine V. 8
I'm gonna unfollow everyone whom i currently do, and begin the list again, so as to renew the chaos that is the influx of beautious word-art I so enjoy and revere, but so seldom have time to sift through and give the attention and mind that is warranted to each and every one created by all'a y'all wonderous souls.

if I neglect to re-add anyone, please do not take it personally! anyone who is ostensibly active enough on my posts will, for obvious reasons, be most likely to be put back on my stalking list.

I realize this might come off as a bit selfish or narcissistic, perhaps vain or something,
and it very well might be,
but I'm strangely okay with that.
If you have a bone to pick with that,
I beseech thee to consider the following:
what part of you wants it to be that way,
what that reduction allows you to justify,
and how that makes you feel.
Just some fast food for thought.
;)

much love to you all,
and blessings upon thy paths.
see you in the future!
She
She wanted to be pretty, she wanted to be accepted.
Nobody loved her not even herself.
So she decided to lose weight, she just wanted to be pretty
"10 pounds," she said.
She started exercising a few times a week and eating less.
Then every few days turned into everyday and less became nothing.
The voice in her head got louder. *"How many secrets can you keep?"

No one talked to her except the voice inside her head.
10 pounds became 15
15 became 20
20 became 25
and 25 became 30
She stood in front of the mirror, naked, smiling
hipbones jutting out of her body, spine showing.
She put her hand around her wrists and touched her pinky to her thumb.
She was so happy standing there smiling her bones showing an extreme amount.
She finally felt happiness, she was finally pretty.
She failed to notice anything happening around her, distancing herself from everyone because that's what Ana said to do.
She always listened to Ana.
Ana told her no one would love her if she was fat.
Ana said she needed to lose more weight, that she was still fat.
So that's what she did, but sometimes she would lose control and eat and eat and eat.
She had to throw it up she couldn't keep that inside and let it sit. She had to get rid of it.
So she did she threw up until she couldnt throw up anymore.
She hit a new low, 80 pounds.
And that was it that was the end. Her mom found her lying on the bathroom floor. Unconscious and she panicked. How could she have not noticed?
Now her baby was gone, dead, she couldn't bring her back.
Ana took control of her life and stole it. Stole her soul, her personality, her identity, her life
She mind was dark and her body was thin, all she ever wanted was to be pretty. But what she thought was beauty cost her, her life.
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