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#recklessness
𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 ℑ𝔫 𝔞 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔩, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩
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Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
Witness
If, I were Indian I would be A. P. J. AbdulKalam descendant son           And, to  be           Gandhi's legatee To marry a young Nigerian senorita, to give birth a pretty And beautiful baby To copy all I imitated From my fore fathers To lead Nigeria and, to revolutionize the nation To grow more than Russia and to be Like Saudi Arabia
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Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 6:06 PM UTC
Corrupted Mother
Driving 220, beltless, with Elisabeth, Half a foot beside me: Certain Death, Nature: an incomprehensible blur, -- Were we rushing to live, or to die? -- That's one thing you could not infer.
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Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 11:21 PM UTC
Speeding on July 4.
‘rabbit hearted’, my friends say. they nod, all agree. my muscle, they know, beats fast, thud thud thud against its small cage whenever i’m about to do something incredibly stupid that will put everyone in sticky situations. ‘sticky’, they say, ‘is a funny word’, as my shoes are, they laugh, ‘glued like bubblegum to trouble’. my old shoes, i stare at them and hum, have seen a lot of bubblegum, that much is true. and my friends, they’re ******** they smile bright at me, they cackle and sing. ‘don’t you think’, they joke like they always do, ‘that your head is the troubling part?’ so i sigh, and ask why like i always do. they say, ‘your head comes with malfunctioning brakes, mate.’ so i think, maybe, rabbit hearted as i might be, the impossible chimera that ignites my every move must be a lion, or something that roars just as loud, with no shoes at all. but in the end, all i say is ‘i can’t drive anyway’. at least my friends laugh.
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Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
rabbit hearted
I feel it coming The rush of recklessness The active adrenaline As it surges through my body I may fall But I will rise And continue on Only one life to live May it be my last As I run past Towards the setting sun Youth is like a day Early brightness That dies out like a star
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Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
youth
Fabricate    the world, tile                     by tile, Until the towers sway.      Overlook the foundations,      in your                     frenzy;      cement them another day.                   Let the buildings descend;            frightened            humans,            their lives        in jeopardy                 They felt         invincible,                 now are            vulnerable-                 their lives have become tardy.                                *        *       *                  the bird soars high above                  the streets are         empty                  its screeches                 for                  we are no                   more
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Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
Denouncement
A mask is something we wear to hide our real selves. Some of us wear our masks all the time while others don’t even realize they have masks at all. Her mask is the epitomy of wealth and prosperity... so why are you on food stamps? Her mask drives a bmw.....is that why you can’t make your car payments? Her mask buys fivoluous **** that she’ll never use...is that why you overdraw your bank accounts? Her mask is a lie she’s lived her entire life....is that why you wasted all your money? Her face tells the real story...your irresponsible, self-serving, with an insatiable appetite for anything that you can’t have. A mask helps you pretend to be someone your not. But the thing about masks is... They all have to come off eventually.
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Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
A mask with two faces
my furniture is sentient and i am not as real as i might like to be. mild hallucinations, like dramamine without the paranoia. is this a dissociative? i did a little research and i was going to have a sitter but it came early and i wanted to try it and - yes i am just one bad decision away from prison, one bad decision away from lying unconscious in a ditch. salvia is legal and causing me to calculate the realities of the life i am choosing to steer with reckless ambition.
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Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
Salvia Poetry
You say you love all of me, like I am your better half. But half of the things that go through my mind have only made you laugh. You say you love my madness, but your love felt just lukewarm. While on the inside I'm a commotion; a constant, violent storm. You touch me with tenderness. and I lie that I like it too, but the truth is that I feel myself when I am not with you, because passion and recklessness find a home in my soul; so when I am set on fire is only when I'm free and whole.
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May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 6:43 AM UTC
Riot
Tempting, to test your luck, to push the boundaries until they break and let loose like floodgates. It may destroy a lot, but it sure as hell changes the landscape. Besides, there is a sort of sick beauty in watching something come apart, something terrible and mesmerizing about destruction. See, there are some parts of god I understand. And you, always you with the other answers, about love and mercy and all that rot. Together we sing the pieces, you said. It's all we can do. It's all we know.
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May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 11:51 AM UTC
side
You and I were a summer thunderstorm, Tension building in the distance, then Shattering in a crack of thunder. Whirlwind of passion, we never could Have lasted, but, like hell we tried. The Storm lost its ferocity, and all that was left Is the damage in its wake.
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Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
In Our Wake
I feel if I move from this place the sharpness of my knees will cut through the skin shrinking to be closer to my fragile bird bones or that upon lifting the body I am allowing to deteriorate the blood may rush too quickly behind my eyes leaving me unable to keep from tumbling and shattering in a beautiful spray of technicolor
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Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC
Malnourishment
Such heaviness Bearing on me All-consuming Eating away From all sides. Soon I must all be gone. I feel. Oh how I feel. So many tears How could this body This tool Hold so many They fall down As I do. Without warning Under attack. I am helpless I am powerless. It is too late But I do Deserve this. Treasure maps Fallen trees Operator please Call me back when it’s time Call me back when it’s passed No one to blame But my stupid My reckless My self. As ever I shouldn't have. As ever I did. The cure? Time. Or better yet A time-machine.
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Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
Regret