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#coats
It's getting cold outside, The chills are settling in, Winter has now arrived, The sign of frost has begun. We're stlll in the season of autumn, but Winter has now shown its face, The days are nice, but Chilly, Autumn has now been replaced. The winter is cold and it's sharp, Get ready for a frosty chill Please wear your gloves, coats and scarfs, For, winter time is here!! B.R. Date: 11/19/2024
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Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 7:50 PM UTC
A Cold, Crisp Winter
Two Coats Home, in a closet somewhere, I have two coats. One is yellow, the other gray. Even if I wore the yellow, would I be warm? Perhaps others would prefer to see that color on me. It is so underappreciated, after all. Lo, but I am so used to the gray! I dislike wearing it, but its warm lining ushers me in, its routineness offers me stability. In this, I blend into the background. I slip silently under the radar. Perhaps, though, some will notice how often I switch from gray to yellow, and back. Often, what seems like only a single degree difference will make the coat I’m wearing seem dull. Most of the time, I long to don the bright color of yellow. But then again, I find it so difficult to pull on, so difficult to keep from slipping off. And perhaps the color is a bit too bright too match my demeanor? Every day, I wonder which. Some days, I wear yellow without worrying about the weather. Most days, I wear gray underneath, simply by habit. Is it better to have worn a coat, only to have to take it off, or to never have worn it at all? Honestly, I’m not sure myself. Maybe what makes up a poem is in the letters, not the words. Alone.
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Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
Two coats
Sixteen years old Another night Another one FADL guard* She smiles the leather belt around the stomach is tight i can see the sun set through the window with the lock it hurts in my heart and my cracked ribs I break down in tears and I tell her about the assault about the humiliation that now on the seventh day occurs forced to derive stools in a parcel tray urinate in a flask with both hands bonded in leather injected by force with anesthetics denied all movement Deprived of all freedom deprived of all dignity Still She smiles while she calmly skims my hair and softly whispers the doctor is on his way .. He's bringing anesthetics...
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
The power of diagnoses.
I see them walking down the street without me All my footprints are covered by the snow I don't know if they still care about me If they do, it dosen´t show The cold wind´s blowing and hits my exposed heart I am walking faster carrying all my hopes Despite the snow the road is getting very dark They're fading into the background in those white winter coats White coats, white coats Why do you gotta leave me out in the cold? White coats, white coats This shield around me is getting hard to uphold White coats, white coats I'm just looking for someone to call my friend Before the cold wind comes back again I see them laughing on the corner without me All my footprints are covered by the snow Talking about places I´ll never go with them to see And sharing secrets that I´ll never know This is the coldest December we've had in years They are huddled together under the lamppost I walk away melting the ground with my tears They don't feel my pain from the warmth of their white coats White coats, white coats Why you gotta leave me out in the cold? White coats, white coats This shield around me is getting hard to uphold White coats, white coats I'm just looking for someone to call my friend Before the cold wind comes back again
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
White Coats
I walked into the room Shitting.......on the coats ********
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
Dripping In Gold (10w)
As fridge-rator to beer in the head between the ears adorned with flashy widgets with which to trap the hoes he hopes that he can pull into his poles. His gravity whips wide so hands find and feel up erthing that gots the tail, he wants to rail so hands out he walks and tilts to one side and back holding his glass. Two fingers limp around the rim, dipping his fingertips into the juice like he wants to dip into you, pinkies as he holds your head forcing you to **** like you want his come as much as he wants to come. Then when done zips up, runs out, ***** sayonara", switch rerun mode without emotion. He floatin. He floatin. He gloatin. Head on the couch back making tired, one eye open scoping everyone's glow as they move, when up he comes sittin in my face, spittin what he thinks I want him to say, I'm like, **** guy control that tongue, you spray like that always I'm afraid I won't take that wild **** as tool is to you as to yo ***** Right ******* ****** spittin harder in the lean up perhaps the lead up to fist flung to react. "Man you too loose, I gotta tell you, I've got just what you do." "Your uh ****** Man watch ya flavor of language, I got just enough ****** left to get hard and stomp you, heel first in boots bought to stomp, pre-emptive to deal with the bullwhip effect where first you droolin to **** me, then retract like a bowstring because my ***** resembles a **** "What you want, ***** You wan **** this **** for real?" (For real?) He floatin. He floatin. He floatin the room, he ghosting. Lick my lips, cept it's not a tongue. For this purpose it's strobe lights, in light show, and like snow, black and white between sheets of plastic TV screen on get settled into my flow, rip back and forth like prongs on a fork on your ******* blindfolded and scolded right angle, bent like an L-shape repenting for **** by taking the ****** flash cards, held up on headboards, trying to teach you metrics and standards lacking in you to tune you into the lifestream, no empathy and no tact to show, remember this hell well while you sail through life preying, I'm praying and making marks in meat coats. But he floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
ClamJam: "Party is to Pussy"(aka "Track 3")
As fridge-rator to beer in the head between the ears adorned with flashy widgets with which to trap the hoes he hopes that he can pull into his poles. His gravity whips wide so hands find and feel up erthing that gots the tail, he wants to rail so hands out he walks and tilts to one side and back holding his glass. Two fingers limp around the rim, dipping his fingertips into the juice like he wants to dip into you, pinkies as he holds your head forcing you to **** like you want his come as much as he wants to come. Then when done zips up, runs out, ***** sayonara", switch rerun mode without emotion. He floatin. He floatin. He gloatin. Head on the couch back making tired, one eye open scoping everyone's glow as they move, when up he comes sittin in my face, spittin what he thinks I want him to say, I'm like, **** guy control that tongue, you spray like that always I'm afraid I won't take that wild **** as tool is to you as to yo ***** Right ******* ****** spittin harder in the lean up perhaps the lead up to fist flung to react. "Man you too loose, I gotta tell you, I've got just what you do." "Your uh ****** Man watch ya flavor of language, I got just enough ****** left to get hard and stomp you, heel first in boots bought to stomp, pre-emptive to deal with the bullwhip effect where first you droolin to **** me, then retract like a bowstring because my ***** resembles a **** "What you want, ***** You wan **** this **** for real?" (For real?) He floatin. He floatin. He floatin the room, he ghosting. Lick my lips, cept it's not a tongue. For this purpose it's strobe lights, in light show, and like snow, black and white between sheets of plastic TV screen on get settled into my flow, rip back and forth like prongs on a fork on your ******* blindfolded and scolded right angle, bent like an L-shape repenting for **** by taking the ****** flash cards, held up on headboards, trying to teach you metrics and standards lacking in you to tune you into the lifestream, no empathy and no tact to show, remember this hell well while you sail through life preying, I'm praying and making marks in meat coats. But he floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.
Continue reading...
3
Walking slowly in the dead of night, hoping to get away From the troubles I have in sight, wanting them not to stay Disguised with darkness I tread upon this street so gloomy and grey People I see there is none, oh what an eerie day Continued my trip in the darkness, moving away from light No chaos there just calmness, no need for proper fight Weirdness present all over, not a soul perceived Life has reached a closure, this is what I believed White coats moved towards me in a multitude of sizes No humans yet I see, a hand from underneath rises "I think she's better and can leave this prison of hell" They didn't know that I weaved lies to seem so well Running out of confinement, they realized their mistake Failing their assignment, allowing me their lives to take
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Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 6:36 AM UTC
Darkness Rises