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lua May 28
im tired
of keeping myself on a short leash
and getting disappointed
when i think you would release me
when all you do is make it shorter.
Anais Vionet Jan 23
I’m going to each of my suitemates' rooms. One at a time, methodically. I pause, for dramatic purpose, until I have their full attention. Once I have it, I rushingly, excitedly, breathlessly say, “I’M getting pizza later, for the GAME!” Like a seven year old child.

Now, my roommates KNOW we're ordering pizzas later. They’re all “on board,” everyone’s submitted their order and venmo’d their money to Sunny who will actually place the order for delivery at 5:30 pm. But I’m excited. I LOVE pizza (and American, NFL football) and I love being childish.

My roommates, like my brother, sister and parents before them, know this and love my manic, overactive way of excising tedium. Besides, I won’t do this more than once or twice - ok, maybe three times today before the pizza comes.

Since you’ve read this far - allow me to opine, for a moment, about “self restraint.”

Have you read about how they’re using familial DNA to solve old cold-case murders? I think they should use familial DNA to track down whomever it was that invented self restraint.

It was probably some old Protestant. I mean, Catholics only have sin - it’s yes or no - binary. So without researching it (at all), I think we’re dealing with someone born after the protestant reformation of 1555 - but I’m flexible.

Anyway, they should track that person down, dig them up, beat them with a stick, and then rebury them, in unhallowed ground.

I hate self restraint. It’s so.. restraining.

#restraintsux
BLT word of the day challenge: opine - to expound on some subject
* I say my roommates “love” my mania but I’ve conducted no research
JKirin Sep 2021
I'm in agony –
your pale eyes haunt my dreams every night.
Darkest ebony –
to take hold of your locks I just might,
bring your lips to mine.
I don't trust my restraint – I have come apart.
But my feelings are pure, this is why I write.
I lay bare my heart –
treat it as you like.
about confessing the desire to embrace another man
Kitty Jun 2021
Does my skirt provoke you?
Are you scarred by my top?
Does the length and depth define me,
Could I do a better job?

Am I made by what I wear?
An outfit I compose
The paint I layer on my face
The cut of my clothes.

You say I have no self control,
No power of restraint,
You place me in a little box
A student with a male teacher or peer.
It’s her fault he could not.

Hold himself away from her
Chain himself to the chair
labelling her his object
Instead of averting his stare

I’m not defined by cloth it’s purpose is warmth
Nor the body underneath
It is me and my intelligence

Does my existence provoke you
Fill you with disgust
Because my ability to choose
Is simply not good enough

For the standards you set me
The body I must have,
To be considered ‘pretty’
To be considered ‘bad’

My skirt can not be to short
My shirt not to deep
Because a low neckline
Will prevent my ability to speak

Does my happiness provoke you
My confidence in who I am
Because it’s taken a long time
To love myself
Black Petal Mar 2021
It seems easy for you
to shut off
your affections for me.
Of this, I am envious.
My love
is a strong current.
Uncontained
in the wild river of my being.
Slamming into rocks and timber
without mercy.

Attempts to build dams in this stream
fail miserably
when its roaring waters tear through them
like paper.
Theanm Ankh Nov 2020
She says,
"You should know, dear
"The world doesn't stutter when it walks,
"Not the way you
"Stumble through your thoughts." And
I wish I could untie
The spool of my mind
But I
Keep feeding it thread,
Hoping it will spill out my mouth in
A rainbow scarf
Written in place of the 26-page history project due Monday
CarolineSD Apr 2020
Where will I ever lay this love down
Like the mist above the mountains
That gathers and suspends within the waking sky
Until at once
The sun rises
And it falls
Like a child into her mother’s arms?

And the valleys
They rest
Quiet and calm
Sheltered within the soft fingers of a curling fog

And my heart
Is just like that

Heavy with the condensation of love

Held aloft by a darkness that refuses to rise
Thirsty for the first faint tendrils of light

That I may then, finally,
Release this love
And let it lie

Down

Thick and soft and warm,
Curled around the valleys

Of a heart
Like my own.
OpenWorldView Nov 2019
count from one to ten
take a deep breath of fresh air
close your eyes, exhale
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