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Oh if I could **** money
I would
If my **** tasted like honey
In all likelihood
There would be people paying to taste it
That's how I'd make it
my skin is cold
but you’re hot within
so i don’t mind
when you’re with him
i might be lying
just please remember
the places we built
don’t take him
i can’t watch you go by tonight
Amber K 3d
They are what keep my brain from the trauma.
From the darker side.
In school I was the weird girl,
the one who talked about the things she loved too much.
The one who couldn't just LIKE something.
Whether it was a band or movie,
I would obsess.
I'd find a song I loved,
and overplay it until my ears would bleed.
I'd read a book,
only to read the same book five more times right after.
I began to think I was just a strange person.
I just had obsessive tendencies.
Then I notice something...
These obsession always spark after something bad happens,
or after my brain decides to go to dark place.
These obsessions are my minds way of protecting itself.
Because it's much nicer to obsessed over a band,
or a movie no one else cares about,
than to sit and dwell on all the awful turns life could take.
So let me obsess.
Let me be weird.
It's for my own good.
This pretty much speaks for itself. This year has been pretty traumatic for me, so my obsessive tendencies have been set to high. A friend and I were just talking about how were both obsessing over this band and mainly the lead singer, even though we've now about them for YEARS. I told her I think it's because we've both been in a negative place mentally, and this is our brains way of keeping the bad thoughts out. Because it's much easier to let me brain think about this band than to think about the two friends I lost to suicide this year or the million other things my brain decides to stress me out about daily.
Blue 4d
o' to look back                  
upon this particular highway, marred

and battered                    
but picturesque with all of its genuine

roadside charms                    
of girls lost with their dancing flowers

within ruffian arms... or all those places

that change your character's wages
..... yeah... you know the ones...                    

we've all been there,                    
driving along to that particular song

letting the breeze                    
tickle those baby hairs just so,  

that ******* cool flow                  

ya, know?...yeah, you definitely know.

'highway hypnosis'                    
is what we all called it whenever the

the haze                    
grew and it Grew and it GREW    
The calming night skies              
together we'd ride                    
it permeates,                
dissolving all those year's pains          
         ...  finally          
at last,          
it's now but an echo          
from my weirdly wandering        
.... a long drive of attempted absolution
You always ask me
what I'm thinking of
and I must admit
if you knew my
true thoughts
you will never see
me the same again.

Constantly I am
thinking about
how I could
possibly feel
beautiful at night
when I eat anything
during the day.

I can't tell you this
because you might
worry for me.
You would say
I am beautiful always.

While this helps
it feels as though
you are putting
a band-aid on
a cavernous wound.
One that was small
many years ago,
but recently was infected,
left untreated and
ignored because of
how ugly it is to me.
I am embarrassed
that I love you more
then I love myself.

So I won't reveal
what I'm truly thinking
to you ever.
Instead I smile,
blush even,
and say I cannot
stop thinking of you.
Jay M May 2019
Fragile framed edge
So carefully wondering
Blueprinted dreaming
Plans forming
From nothing but the word


When childhood has ended
When the time has come
I shall be prepared
Ready for my next thing to do
Oh, I know;
It's going to be everything new

Right when it ends
As we fade into the night
It will not be my last goodbye
For I shall be close by

Every penny
But if only
I had a penny
For every thought

Starting early
Is better
Than being so lost
When the moment comes

I'd love to leave it alone
But I can't let it go...

- Jay M
May 28th, 2019
I've been thinking about what comes after high school.
At night time
that was when
she was truly
with herself
listening to her thoughts
drowning in her thoughts
at night time
no one was watching
no one was there
to protect her
from her thoughts
I was told that some people
are born to be leaders,
and other people
are born to be followers.

my depression has sent me
on a downward spiral,
and I know that
I can't stay strong forever.
I won't stand tall forever.

am I a leader?
when I fall, will I take
anyone else down with me?

or am I a follower?
will I fall because I let
someone drag me down?

and if I don't want
to be either of those,
then who do I want to be?
Isabella Oct 17
How can I possibly expect someone to love me when I can’t even tolerate myself.
How can I hope to be somebody, anybody, when I’m nothing but a blink amidst the infinite abyss of existence.
Even on my own planet my life won’t be much to remember.
An enemy to myself, a stranger to the world.
Isn’t it unnerving to realize that if I slipped away, the planet wouldn’t know any different.
The ground wouldn’t miss my steps and the sky wouldn’t grieve my gaze and the atmosphere wouldn’t mourn my breaths.
Just another body that doesn’t stay, only fades and eventually decays.
This is why legacy is so important, I suppose.
The only way a soul can truly live on.
Even if earth would go on just the same, even if history wouldn’t notice me gone.
Sarah Flynn Oct 17
I don’t know if I feel happy anymore,
but sometimes I don’t feel numb
and I call that happiness.
it’s more peace than happiness.
it’s more of a relief.
in these moments, I feel something
and I know that I’m still alive.
I must be alive
if I can still feel

when I get asked about my scars
and how I could possibly do something
so cruel to myself,
I want to say that
when I did it,
it wasn’t cruel.
I wasn’t trying to die.
I was trying to remind myself
that I’m not dead yet.

I’m a writer.
I’m supposed to be good with words,
and I am.
so why can’t I tell you how
I’m really doing?
why do I keep saying “I’m fine”
when I’m anything but fine?
why can’t I find the words to express
this feeling?

it’s not a feeling.
it’s the lack of a feeling.

I haven’t learned
how to explain this yet.
I’ve spent years leaving and entering
this numbness,
over and over.
I think I’ve spent more time in it
than out of it.

I didn’t learn much, but
now I know that

the only thing worse
than feeling pain
is feeling nothing.
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