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#mechanism
I tried to resurrect you in every thought I had I tried to connect through words on a notepad I have tried to let go of the sad I tried every coping mechanism I had ...you weren't even a good dad... ©2024
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Jul 15, 2024
Jul 15, 2024 at 11:15 AM UTC
~•§•~ Bad Dad Fad ~•§•~
hand cranked re-imagined 35mm slides Rough Trade posters on the wall Pepsi and premade sandwiches on the counter aperture: wide open he sees her often at the multiplex there she flirts from the third row; second seat sheer blouse hands in elliptical motion pointing toward silk chiffon shells the invite in a tilt of her mouth lip; gloss eyes hidden from the light a prayer before intermission celluloid reliquary reveals God's plans lest her trifling with him cause a miss in changeover enraging his self-regarded audience the walk back to his car one long montage of her lacing up
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May 24, 2023
May 24, 2023 at 10:02 AM UTC
The Projectionist
The illusionist drawls, "Choose wisely", fanning his cards, and she, eyeing Five of Cups, POPS her bubblegum, chooses "You", deciding that the imp who claims he's not an archetype is merely the reversed Hermit.
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Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 9:31 PM UTC
Mechanism
you really make me wonder ALL of the time how much you really love me if it's all just an act for a gain that I have not yet been able to place but sometimes i can imagine usually though I freeze a strange thing happens possibly a defense mechanism to protect me from a wonderful man who may break me the way i've been broken before
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Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 1:29 AM UTC
break me
Shards scatter the kitchen floor; Joel Adams plays through the radio. Hearts chained down, wrists throbbing. Phantoms appear, knocking the lungs empty. He?--She?--Them; they appear on the table, where guests are supposed to sit. The counter, the couch, the bedroom (where guests are not supposed to be). (But you reminisce, they're not guests anymore.) The shelves are cold--freezing even, like a snow storm has passed by. Not only that, but the pillows, notebooks, that spot on the floor, the jacket, their mug. Every single thing they've touched, it freezes every time, and it stays. Yearning for warmth no longer there. Fire no longer burns, heat but a necessity. But there is eternal warmth in the body; the blood. The kitchen is scattered with shards of mug, and where warmth is found in blood, fingers squeeze onto pieces of glass. Once again, it is warm, it is relief. You feel warm again. But where blood and body meet, there is no end nor beginning. Where there was, there is. (It's always been like this.)
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Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC
Unhealthy Habit.
Who is the angel Who found you living lifeless The angel that never seems to break The angel that stands beside you Who is the angel Who gives you life and always wipes your tears? The angel that sews your broken heart The angel that fights your fears The strongest bridges appear unbreakable But they withstand the greatest stress and bulletproof glass will take the shots But only just so many, and you might not see it coming but it will break when it is bombed The angel will always take your chains And rest them on their shoulders They'll smile at you when you're okay And tell you not to worry But don't forget, the angel is human too Despite their amazing strength, and even though they never cry Their eyes mask the blood of warzones The angel will always take your chains Even when they cannot hold them And the angel will do so until they break, so that you can always smile So go find the angel that never cries Hug them, and say I love you And you could be the angel when the bulletproof is bombed
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Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
Bulletproof
Steer clear of malice; To speak of arrows tipped in actuality and respond justly toward malignity. Lest I fall under the gaze of malice becoming putrid within. Heavenly Father above. You paved the way to a damaged youth yet, Almost commonplace to allow surrogate protectors, Crawl inside my flesh only to be spat back out once again. I realise I am not but the woman I thought myself to be; Only an interchangeable piece in the mechanism. A piece in the mechanism, Intertwined between countless souls on the way of my path. By Lana
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May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
Untitled 2
I am living in a capsule I am shielded from outside forces, hurting pain and sallow emotions these are orange I am shielded by this boundary that my mind constructed A prisoner to my own ways forever defending me from your rude and stabbing jagged jars and your sharp and jarring warnings these are red it may sound nice that I am immune this is blue But the privilege of the good emotions all the warm and happy delicious laughs which are yellow I no longer have because I am a prisoner of cause and effect- you cause and I deflect Now I am an outsider on the inside forever watching all the colors as they bounce off my capsule wall.
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Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Encapsulated
how much trauma can fit inside of you between the gaps before your nerves begin to fail and your ventricles collapse; a leash pulling your thoughts behind a barbed wire fence a muzzle to control your words as a last line of defense; a defective, broken down body stemmed from a tortured mind equals an futile unfinished sculpture with a hollowed out inside
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Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
coping
the silence becomes the loudest in the middle of the night when safety is no longer an option. it becomes the enemy when you're trying to sleep, push everything away to get some peace. it's the thing that turns you from blue to red in the blink of an eye. turning you into a whole new mechanism. an animated, drooling, beast of rage. you can try to claw your way out, but there's always something in the way of getting rid of the revolting, wet, anger that boils in the cavity of your sternum.
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Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC
often red.
Wash your hands before leaving. Every afternoon the television would have a woman in tears Spanish dialogue, pastel colored sets Tongue in cheek, modern romance sipping iced tea by the pool The antagonist wearing a suit and three rings on each finger Pause. Soap bars are made of fat, the grease found in Breakfast diners and sweat off a teenagers face The lipids turning gelatinous and all I can think of is Jell-o; the strange colored dessert that doesn’t taste like anything real My hands begin to itch and I stand up Wash your hands before leaving. My hands have become open desert, dry animosity The skin around the knuckles is delicate, one clench of a fist I am sure that it will tear, like the skirt of a girl I once knew But there are creatures lurking everywhere In the handle of the bathroom door, in the shake of another hand In the touch of a frame, in the grip of a key Wash your hands before leaving. The scattered murmurs on the screen remind me its 5p.m The women are arguing with their manicured hands Their eyes all having the same spidery lashes, spiders I feel insects crawling under my bones Termites clipping at my heels as I sit in this couch of horrors I didn’t know the last time it had been washed It smelled of the 1970’s and I want to go home The babysitter is on the other chair reclined Snoring, letting out bacteria through her mouth At 8 years old I should be on the floor with a coloring book My lips are dry, the screen is too bright, I can feel the filth everywhere I turn So I stay I hear the door knock and it’s my mother picking me up after work My lungs sigh of relief Time to go But first let me wash my hands before I leave
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Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
SOAP BARS / SPANISH SOAP OPERAS
Wash your hands before leaving. Every afternoon the television would have a woman in tears Spanish dialogue, pastel colored sets Tongue in cheek, modern romance sipping iced tea by the pool The antagonist wearing a suit and three rings on each finger Pause. Soap bars are made of fat, the grease found in Breakfast diners and sweat off a teenagers face The lipids turning gelatinous and all I can think of is Jell-o; the strange colored dessert that doesn’t taste like anything real My hands begin to itch and I stand up Wash your hands before leaving. My hands have become open desert, dry animosity The skin around the knuckles is delicate, one clench of a fist I am sure that it will tear, like the skirt of a girl I once knew But there are creatures lurking everywhere In the handle of the bathroom door, in the shake of another hand In the touch of a frame, in the grip of a key Wash your hands before leaving. The scattered murmurs on the screen remind me its 5p.m The women are arguing with their manicured hands Their eyes all having the same spidery lashes, spiders I feel insects crawling under my bones Termites clipping at my heels as I sit in this couch of horrors I didn’t know the last time it had been washed It smelled of the 1970’s and I want to go home The babysitter is on the other chair reclined Snoring, letting out bacteria through her mouth At 8 years old I should be on the floor with a coloring book My lips are dry, the screen is too bright, I can feel the filth everywhere I turn So I stay I hear the door knock and it’s my mother picking me up after work My lungs sigh of relief Time to go But first let me wash my hands before I leave
Continue reading...
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She loved the world too easily, She had no way of knowing That life will wait to strike you down When your soft side is showing. She gave of self, such sacrifice And when little else was left, Twas cast aside most heartlessly Left broken-down and so bereft. Now bitterness her sword and shield She wields with silent fervor, And keeps her love from light of day And those who don't deserve her, And trust, it seems, the stuff of dreams, She's buried far too far down, In self-defense, it makes no sense To ever let your guard down. She has forgotten how to love As she did way back before, Before heartache had worn her down Until she could take no more. Perhaps someday she'll find a way Her heart can again be free, Til then, trust seems the stuff of dreams Of some faded yesterday.
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 2:03 AM UTC
She has forgotten
am I hard to please? or are you just insufficient a machine, out of order you've come to do less for me than I've done for you like a machine, I will put you away for someone else to use
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Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 1:54 AM UTC
machine