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#brittle
How am I to say such vigor specious and amorphous and astringent, effacing a landscape called yesterday soon after some shut-eye, then the jive suspends with a dissonance creeping in coda as the overture falls through. If the clock is right or it feels wrong, mono-tempo takes over anyway. Now I see it when looking back. Enchantment hedged a garden full of lush lives that I didn’t even know I could ignite until the season shuffles. Had I hit my stride? Yes I keep my head up, but No I'm upside down, from the outside in. Clouds that we glided by are dropping through my hands like sand. It left me hovering around a layover of sentience less itinerant than fugitive, brittle memos that are in no ways oblivious. You don’t know your words engraved but I do.
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Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
Vacant Whereabouts
Bend like bamboo, Brittle people break. Resist yet be resilient, Persevere, yet, With purpose.
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May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 10:55 AM UTC
Bend Like Bamboo
So brittle That a single word (or seven) Could pour salt on my opened palms And break My short sense of happiness
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May 9, 2025
May 9, 2025 at 2:50 PM UTC
Fragile
Frost laces the earth — a quiet diamond veil, whispers of smoke rise, spilling through the breath of trees. Snow, soft as forgotten dreams, drifts over stones, over roots, its silence pressing close, like a hand on the chest of night. The wind, thin and sharp, skims the hollow of the hills, pulling shadows into its folds, sewing the moon into the bones of the sky. Bare branches stretch, clawing toward a distant sun, their fingers white and brittle, writing cold prayers in the dark air. Below, a river sleeps — its pulse muted, veiled under ice, the valley cradles it in a long, slow sigh. In the pause between seasons, we linger — half-light and half-shadow, breathing the fragile quiet of winter, waiting for what is to come.
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Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 1:44 AM UTC
In the Quiet Between
Will I find you in Spring? Immersed in profound happiness, Or do I look for you in autumn? In the depths of my despair, Hollow and brittle, Like the leaves.
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Sep 23, 2024
Sep 23, 2024 at 6:54 AM UTC
Spring or autumn?
The plasticiser of human flesh– Influence, Poured on without filter or mesh. Swabbed, glazed Over a body. The victim left in a daze While we Watch (unknowingly? Or not?) As they rot away, Day by day. They’re less brittle, Yet it seems this plasticiser has little Positive effect. For the promoting of flexibility Just seems to mean two-facedness And a lack of respect To them and me. Plasticiser just turning our world to mush– To get it done, I’m truly in no rush.
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Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 6:46 AM UTC
Plasticiser
Equally hardened and fragile; Incredibly beautiful and, to break, agile. Your porcelain lips on mine wander, As my cracked soul finds refuge in your maunder.
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Dec 2, 2022
Dec 2, 2022 at 12:41 PM UTC
Porcelain
I am forged in a ceramic kiln, and the sweltering heat embrittles me. their withering stares set the kiln ablaze, expecting me to stay rigid and brittle. I attempted to constrict and be good, but the fire slowly cracked me.   the heat still scorches my pieces, but each piece inches closer to the outskirts of the kiln so I can find the sticky glue and put myself back together.
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Apr 20, 2022
Apr 20, 2022 at 11:59 PM UTC
the kiln.
The fairytale of America is dead to me Killed by a ********* in horns Maybe my veil has simply been lifted Long has it been so for others while still others never knew its comforting shade A reverence as meaningful now as that for Santa Claus Was my faith so brittle so ignorant Is it still Seems so **** I don't know I need to visit those stones again let them speak through the cold They were never silent but maybe now I won't be deaf to their story maybe now I'll listen maybe now
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Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 10:36 AM UTC
Neverland
My courage My strength My bravery It's all a show for those who see Inside I'm hoping no one will test them And see that they break in use in practice in walk like brittle bones
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Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 8:55 AM UTC
Brittle Bones
My mind is a minor flutter; Looping movies within ultimate stutters. I'd tell you I'm feeling better, But I am a stick of butter. I look into gaze of grateful maze, Only to pop amongst unholy haze. My mind is beautiful, But what is the craze? My ego deserves to jump into my idiot blaze. I hope this is a phase. Little do I know that I am an end; Whether I am today or tomorrow, it depends, Though it will come soon. The red blends with my toothpaste.
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May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 3:26 AM UTC
Counting Down Number Numbers
Brittle, broken, beaten I carry in my chest a moldy stone. It used to flutter once and beat harmoniously. Medusa's hair, coiling around this planet finally found it.
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Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 8:31 AM UTC
Moldy Stone
My body's shaking, my bones are breaking.
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Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 11:36 PM UTC
Brittle
I forgot how it felt to be hungry How your bones rack for crumbs on the bottom of your heart My bones feel like brittle; ready to break at a gush of wind But Brittle is candy Candy is a sweet delicacy of whom people like me refuse to have Candy is what I believe I can be Only if I change into one of those target plastic models Perfect and pristine, standing as if they are mocking me Making fun of my creatures in the dark And my not-so-ideal summer body I just want a summer body I want to see what other people see in me I want to be all that I could be if I was pretty So I start dropping things off of my menu, drop by drop First a side dish, then my sugary drink That drink should go to hell for how much weight it makes me gain I reach down my throat until my regrets come back up Reminding me I cannot be pretty the way other girls get to be Ducking to the restroom after a meal Anxiety overwhelming every ounce of me as soon as I eat There is beauty in pain, right? Or beauty is pain? Either way, they are correlated That is good enough to allow me to turn myself in who I want to be I was over this, I thought I was over being hungry But then a man stared at me while I was walking to Walgreens I do this to be beautiful for just a moment But I also do this to disappear Don’t look at me like that flesh of meat that day on that broken night I want it to go away even if it means my bones shake on a sunny day Even if my soul weeps at night Even if my friends pick up on what’s wrong Oh, please don’t pick up on what’s wrong Can’t you see what you’re doing to me? Let me be in control of my body Watch me clatter to the floor and please don’t help me Let me shake and quake Watch me wear a heavy sweater and get out of breath walking Let me substitute food for sweet vapor in my lungs oooh it tastes sweet like brittle Let me disappear Please just let me disappear.
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Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 11:46 AM UTC
Brittle like candy
I forgot how it felt to be hungry How your bones rack for crumbs on the bottom of your heart My bones feel like brittle; ready to break at a gush of wind But Brittle is candy Candy is a sweet delicacy of whom people like me refuse to have Candy is what I believe I can be Only if I change into one of those target plastic models Perfect and pristine, standing as if they are mocking me Making fun of my creatures in the dark And my not-so-ideal summer body I just want a summer body I want to see what other people see in me I want to be all that I could be if I was pretty So I start dropping things off of my menu, drop by drop First a side dish, then my sugary drink That drink should go to hell for how much weight it makes me gain I reach down my throat until my regrets come back up Reminding me I cannot be pretty the way other girls get to be Ducking to the restroom after a meal Anxiety overwhelming every ounce of me as soon as I eat There is beauty in pain, right? Or beauty is pain? Either way, they are correlated That is good enough to allow me to turn myself in who I want to be I was over this, I thought I was over being hungry But then a man stared at me while I was walking to Walgreens I do this to be beautiful for just a moment But I also do this to disappear Don’t look at me like that flesh of meat that day on that broken night I want it to go away even if it means my bones shake on a sunny day Even if my soul weeps at night Even if my friends pick up on what’s wrong Oh, please don’t pick up on what’s wrong Can’t you see what you’re doing to me? Let me be in control of my body Watch me clatter to the floor and please don’t help me Let me shake and quake Watch me wear a heavy sweater and get out of breath walking Let me substitute food for sweet vapor in my lungs oooh it tastes sweet like brittle Let me disappear Please just let me disappear.
Continue reading...
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Planted with love, watered by compassion, fertilized with the light of our presence. But it was all an illusion, for the it was planted in betrayal, watered with disappointments, fertilized with lies and maintained by fakes. Our roses were red, but now they are dead. Weak and brittle petals, crumbling beneath my feet.
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Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 3:59 AM UTC
Betrayal
Once upon a time I was sweet, soft and bright Now I am dry, hard and dark When did I stop looking at the sky, chasing the warm sensuality and start slouching to the ground. Hue and texture are no longer the same, my thorns have been magnified with the petals of my love crumbled and withered away. I am no longer the same.
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 11:18 AM UTC
Optimistic Person No More
Like the rose was our love, watered with the best of selves, soaked in the light of our presence; flourishing and blooming. But now memories are crumbling and our love is withering and fading. A dead rose is the only remainder from a life of beauty and admiration. Now we love in the shadows and stolen whispers of the weak and brittle petals
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Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 11:12 AM UTC
Corpse of love
how does one live knowing there is nothing they can say to scare away pain their words are weak and brittle yet they say them all the same
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Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 5:31 AM UTC
words
Do you know me? I grew up without a mother She left when my oldest sister was three Even when my sister was close to dying She spent money on drugs instead of for flying I hated my dad for keeping us away from her when I was little When I was 16 I realized she was brittle When it was my sister's graduation day They talked for one minute because she had nothing to say She told my dad that she was going to move out here A year later and she's not even here She gave my hopes up So much that it felt like a breakup She asked my dad when I was born That pierced my heart with thousands of thorns Does she even deserve the title mother When she lies one after another
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Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 10:11 AM UTC
Mother
At the time it seemed easier to run away Than to fix our differences and just stay. It has shaped me into the person that I am today, But I know my damage cannot be fixed with everything that I say. I understand the damage I made cuts further than what meets the eye, Believe me I’ve experienced this first-hand so by now I realize That nothing good can come from these brittle lies. I am sorry.
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Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
An Apology
Why am I here again Same situation that I've always been There's no escape for me Always tempted to fall back and sin And it feels as if The devil has a hold of me Feels like his grip is at my throat And nothing's going to set me free And I find myself Talking to this mirror again Its reflection looks so brittle Like it's going to break from all the pain And I'll... Whisper its name So only it can hear me I'll lie to it again because I know it'll believe me I'll try to smile And say everything's okay Keep looking at that mirror Pretend I'm better off than yesterday And maybe I am Soon I will believe it One day I will leave it all behind Rip this sorrow off and then just leave it But for now, all I can do Is keep talking to this mirror Even though I hate myself And just hope the current me Would Disappear I’ll still talk to it in whispers So only I can hear me Begging the devil to let go of me And wondering Why God just won't come near me
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Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
Mirror
Red hand-picked cherries leave behind a residue on smudged, brittle lips.
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Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
Haiku 066
The bridge between what I feel and how is far more brittle than one would assume
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Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Brittle