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#springbreak
many people are going on trips traveling to other states or countries having a vacation in the sun on the beach me on the other hand what am I going to do? I will lay in bed all day binge watch tv cuddle with my cats stay up late I may not be doing what others are but I will still be having fun I'll enjoy my spring break but in my own way
0
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 8:17 AM UTC
Spring Break
University midterm periods bring early mornings charged with energy drinks and espresso shots. Evenings are spent trading quizlets in Bass Library or in late night cram sessions in the common room. After several days of stressful testing, midterms suddenly end. But we’re like those Indianapolis race cars that’ve just run 500 laps, we come off our midterm tracks with our proverbial metal popping and creaking from intense heat and stress. For the first day or so after midterms I can’t sit still. I pace around like I’ve forgotten something—then it sinks in—I can have fun, in fact, it may be mandatory. My bf Peter is spending spring break with me—for the most part in my dorm room. It’s night two of our 18 romantic days and nights. We spent our first day wending around campus. Peter went here for years—earning his master’s and PhD here. He knows Yale even better than I do—it’s a nostalgia tour for him—he works for CERN in Geneva now (Europe’s most boring city—I think that’s their tourism tagline). As we lay snuggled in my twin-sized dorm room bed, beneath one of my very freshly laundered sheets, it’s about 41°F and windy. I keep my lattice windows wide open, because I like to sleep cold, with just a sheet. Peter complained once, when he’d first earned sleepover privileges—until I explained the alternatives. We’ve been dating for over two years now, and I think he’s learned to enjoy it. An arm or a leg left outside the sheet will start to tingle after a minute but the touch of a human hand is like a soothing flame. Snuggles are welcomed and spoonings are almost required for survival. Looking up and out, we can see the cloudless and deeply azure, New Haven sky. My mind is drifting and lazily unfocused when I realize Peter’s been talking about something.. the search for extraterrestrial life? I begin to focus on his words, mid sentence. His voice is a low, rumbly, western drawl - think Henry Fonda in some old black & white western. “.. when SETI’s searching the heavens (for electronic signals), they listen across a sliver of two microwave regions that are unpolluted by radio waves from natural sources.” My head’s on his chest and I’m listening more to his warm tones than the words. I say, “Mmm-hmm” and snuggle more deeply into his warmth. “They call these frequencies the ‘water hole,’ because they correspond to hydrogen and hydroxyl wave lengths (key components of water), in hopes that intelligent life will pick these quiet zones for communication.” I yawn, drawing in air like a gasp and sink deliciously into his slow breathing rhythms. Peter’s a physicist (that’s spelled ‘nerd’) and I can’t say I understand more than a third of his ellipticals, but the next thing I know it’s morning. His astronomy lesson was a lullaby. . . The Flower Called Nowhere by Stereolab Stick Figures In Love by Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks Moby Octopad by Yo La Tengo If I Didn't Have You (Live) by Tim Minchin
0
Mar 10, 2025
Mar 10, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC
spring breakage
University midterm periods bring early mornings charged with energy drinks and espresso shots. Evenings are spent trading quizlets in Bass Library or in late night cram sessions in the common room. After several days of stressful testing, midterms suddenly end. But we’re like those Indianapolis race cars that’ve just run 500 laps, we come off our midterm tracks with our proverbial metal popping and creaking from intense heat and stress. For the first day or so after midterms I can’t sit still. I pace around like I’ve forgotten something—then it sinks in—I can have fun, in fact, it may be mandatory. My bf Peter is spending spring break with me—for the most part in my dorm room. It’s night two of our 18 romantic days and nights. We spent our first day wending around campus. Peter went here for years—earning his master’s and PhD here. He knows Yale even better than I do—it’s a nostalgia tour for him—he works for CERN in Geneva now (Europe’s most boring city—I think that’s their tourism tagline). As we lay snuggled in my twin-sized dorm room bed, beneath one of my very freshly laundered sheets, it’s about 41°F and windy. I keep my lattice windows wide open, because I like to sleep cold, with just a sheet. Peter complained once, when he’d first earned sleepover privileges—until I explained the alternatives. We’ve been dating for over two years now, and I think he’s learned to enjoy it. An arm or a leg left outside the sheet will start to tingle after a minute but the touch of a human hand is like a soothing flame. Snuggles are welcomed and spoonings are almost required for survival. Looking up and out, we can see the cloudless and deeply azure, New Haven sky. My mind is drifting and lazily unfocused when I realize Peter’s been talking about something.. the search for extraterrestrial life? I begin to focus on his words, mid sentence. His voice is a low, rumbly, western drawl - think Henry Fonda in some old black & white western. “.. when SETI’s searching the heavens (for electronic signals), they listen across a sliver of two microwave regions that are unpolluted by radio waves from natural sources.” My head’s on his chest and I’m listening more to his warm tones than the words. I say, “Mmm-hmm” and snuggle more deeply into his warmth. “They call these frequencies the ‘water hole,’ because they correspond to hydrogen and hydroxyl wave lengths (key components of water), in hopes that intelligent life will pick these quiet zones for communication.” I yawn, drawing in air like a gasp and sink deliciously into his slow breathing rhythms. Peter’s a physicist (that’s spelled ‘nerd’) and I can’t say I understand more than a third of his ellipticals, but the next thing I know it’s morning. His astronomy lesson was a lullaby. . . The Flower Called Nowhere by Stereolab Stick Figures In Love by Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks Moby Octopad by Yo La Tengo If I Didn't Have You (Live) by Tim Minchin
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18
Lawrence Hall [email protected] Poeticdrivel.blogspot.com Logosophiamag.com Hellopoetry.com Fellowshipandfairydust.com                                        China Beach Spring Break                              “Remember we are special guests here;                we make no demands and seek no special treatment.”                                 -A Pocket Guide to Viet-Nam, 1969 We called it China Beach; I don’t know why Those wonderful beaches are in Viet-Nam But apparently no Vietnamese were allowed Behind OUR wire, along OUR beach, OUR surf Shabby little snack shacks and latrines And in his shabby little tower a guard In his striped helmet and aviator shades Yawning through his moment in history The beaches of Fort Lauderdale; I don’t know why - That’s where the young go now to die
0
Mar 21, 2023
Mar 21, 2023 at 3:40 PM UTC
China Beach Spring Break
Lisa comes into my room and flops on the bed. The day had been uncompromisingly gray, windy and cold. The night sky was a snowy, blowing darkness, an absolute void that absorbed the campus lights and reflected nothing back. “I’m missing Spring Break,” Lisa she says. “It doesn’t even seem like Spring Break happened,” I say. “Most Yalies went to Puerto Rico this year, I think, from my sampling.” “RIGHT?” Lisa said, “EVERYONE says that - we’re in sync. But I enjoyed Paris,” Lisa continued, “I liked your family - no - I LOVED your family,” she amends. “THAT’s a strong take,” I say, chuckling. “I watched basketball with your uncle (Rémi) and cousins and helped your grandma cook,” she explains, “I felt like a part of your family.” “Aww,” I say, “You ARE part of my family now - you’re TRAPPED,” and we laughed. They invented spring break because after several months, the student mind starts to notice a harsh reality - how much their dorm room resembles a cinder-block jail cell - and starts to wonder how a lifetime of study and stress over grades has gotten them no further in life than the average felon. We’re at lunch. Lisa says, “Ok, what’s new with you?” Keep in mind we see each other ten times a day. “Well,” I say, I’ve decided that “The Beatles are for spring.” Lisa laughs. “Stop!” I demand, “I’m going deep. Today’s song is Julia,” I say, “It’s John Lennon’s song to his mom who was run over by a car when he was a child.”  “I love that song,” Lisa says. “Ok, what about you?” I ask. “My song right now is “Move like a Boss,” Lisa says, “When I’m walking across campus, with my air pods on - I’m intense, don’t get in my way - I’m dangerous, I’ll Will Smith you - I scare me.” “Good to Know,” I say, wishing I’d gotten a lemon brownie. Then I add, “I’ve got this presentation on Monday that I haven’t even had time to look at yet. If I don’t get on it by this weekend it’ll be a nuclear-level disaster. I started on it yesterday and the Internet went down for 20 minutes. It was stressful - of course, you don’t know how long the outage is going to be when you’re IN it - and I had THINGS to do - is that convoluted? ” “No,” Lisa says, nodding in agreement, “losing the Interweb’s traumatic.”
0
Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 7:11 AM UTC
back in the saddle
Lisa comes into my room and flops on the bed. The day had been uncompromisingly gray, windy and cold. The night sky was a snowy, blowing darkness, an absolute void that absorbed the campus lights and reflected nothing back. “I’m missing Spring Break,” Lisa she says. “It doesn’t even seem like Spring Break happened,” I say. “Most Yalies went to Puerto Rico this year, I think, from my sampling.” “RIGHT?” Lisa said, “EVERYONE says that - we’re in sync. But I enjoyed Paris,” Lisa continued, “I liked your family - no - I LOVED your family,” she amends. “THAT’s a strong take,” I say, chuckling. “I watched basketball with your uncle (Rémi) and cousins and helped your grandma cook,” she explains, “I felt like a part of your family.” “Aww,” I say, “You ARE part of my family now - you’re TRAPPED,” and we laughed. They invented spring break because after several months, the student mind starts to notice a harsh reality - how much their dorm room resembles a cinder-block jail cell - and starts to wonder how a lifetime of study and stress over grades has gotten them no further in life than the average felon. We’re at lunch. Lisa says, “Ok, what’s new with you?” Keep in mind we see each other ten times a day. “Well,” I say, I’ve decided that “The Beatles are for spring.” Lisa laughs. “Stop!” I demand, “I’m going deep. Today’s song is Julia,” I say, “It’s John Lennon’s song to his mom who was run over by a car when he was a child.”  “I love that song,” Lisa says. “Ok, what about you?” I ask. “My song right now is “Move like a Boss,” Lisa says, “When I’m walking across campus, with my air pods on - I’m intense, don’t get in my way - I’m dangerous, I’ll Will Smith you - I scare me.” “Good to Know,” I say, wishing I’d gotten a lemon brownie. Then I add, “I’ve got this presentation on Monday that I haven’t even had time to look at yet. If I don’t get on it by this weekend it’ll be a nuclear-level disaster. I started on it yesterday and the Internet went down for 20 minutes. It was stressful - of course, you don’t know how long the outage is going to be when you’re IN it - and I had THINGS to do - is that convoluted? ” “No,” Lisa says, nodding in agreement, “losing the Interweb’s traumatic.”
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14
We were at a club in Paris called L’Arc. It’s an outdoor club (spring break plus covid safety) that’s underneath the Arc de Triomphe. It’s 10PM and we’re coming from a night tour of the Louvre. The night sky was clear and it was 65°f. I was with my posse of (3) roommates and two guardiennes (provided by my Grandmère) who travel with us at all times. The man chatting me up was as hot as middle-school but honestly, it was hard to fake an interest in whatever he was saying. Was my ½ interest going to ruin us - this thing we’d shared for 5 minutes? No, he seemed to say, our connection was stronger than that. Finally, I focused on his WORDS. It was hard because the music was so loud. Hey, this is off-topic but who’s your favorite French band? You don’t HAVE one, do you? No, because they ALL positively felate. It turns out that he was a tiger - inviting me home for a respectfully quiet banging session - because he lived with his mother. I reacted like any college freshman would at first by thinking I was about to be sick. Don’t flag me as antisex (If we’re flagging), I like a joystick now and then. They’re cute and like dogs, they’re always glad to see you. But the idea was disgustingly retro - my parent dodging days are over. Besides, our (roommate) agreement for this trip ostensibly forbids random hookups and did I mention our two escorts in tow? I kept my cool. After all, we had another tray of shooters coming - staying put was clearly the right decision. He took my semi-blank reaction for the rejection it was and disappeared back into the crowd. C'est la vie
0
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 12:33 PM UTC
He was hot
We were at a club in Paris called L’Arc. It’s an outdoor club (spring break plus covid safety) that’s underneath the Arc de Triomphe. It’s 10PM and we’re coming from a night tour of the Louvre. The night sky was clear and it was 65°f. I was with my posse of (3) roommates and two guardiennes (provided by my Grandmère) who travel with us at all times. The man chatting me up was as hot as middle-school but honestly, it was hard to fake an interest in whatever he was saying. Was my ½ interest going to ruin us - this thing we’d shared for 5 minutes? No, he seemed to say, our connection was stronger than that. Finally, I focused on his WORDS. It was hard because the music was so loud. Hey, this is off-topic but who’s your favorite French band? You don’t HAVE one, do you? No, because they ALL positively felate. It turns out that he was a tiger - inviting me home for a respectfully quiet banging session - because he lived with his mother. I reacted like any college freshman would at first by thinking I was about to be sick. Don’t flag me as antisex (If we’re flagging), I like a joystick now and then. They’re cute and like dogs, they’re always glad to see you. But the idea was disgustingly retro - my parent dodging days are over. Besides, our (roommate) agreement for this trip ostensibly forbids random hookups and did I mention our two escorts in tow? I kept my cool. After all, we had another tray of shooters coming - staying put was clearly the right decision. He took my semi-blank reaction for the rejection it was and disappeared back into the crowd. C'est la vie
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6
Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone! We’ve all earned our time in the sun to let tense necks and foreheads unfurl and remember that even though it’s a bit busted there is a world For the love of heck, turn off the laptop stretch legs and do you even if it’s tricky to remember there are plans outside of planning Your role is essential, even while fat white men who went to abusive schools will tell you otherwise You need your energy to lift the eyes of those who feel low, forgotten and rotten so please recharge
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Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 9:04 AM UTC
Easter break
I had a wonderful day today I’ll be crying about it for the next seven It feels like I’m forever cursed staring Through a beautiful window into heaven
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 4:45 PM UTC
Happy Spring Break
I don't like spring break. I sit alone with my thoughts replaying on a screen in my mind of all of the times I was used and cheated. I took photos and sent them. Is this the reason why I hate myself now more than ever? Rest well Monique and Alexa You need to wake up bright and early. For tomorrow, when you will be birthed again. Sometime I wish I was the miscarriage. Alexa and Monique deserve to live. I don't. I just cause everyone pain. I am nothing but a mistake.
0
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
spring break
On these cold nights I dream of yellow In the depths of a fire Crackling to match the thunder. The trickling rain Shows a mirror on the ground Another world, Close my eyes and sink under Maple syrup and apple cider My inner thoughts Like honey colored drops.
0
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 2:16 AM UTC
Honey
My heart breaks every spring break It breaks for kids like me who watch as others visit their home countries While we cannot leave the USA We have to sit and watch people butcher bachata Watch how they're hips refuse to accept something other than Taylor swift We listen when they come back with stories of how they thought our food was too different and not “Mexican” enough as if all Latin America is Mexico We hear the laughs they make at our cousins back home for just being themselves My heart cannot handle the privilege they wear on their sleeves when they come back Knowing I might never see my own island How I am thought it is ***** and dangerous A place where girls should not be left alone While they get the clean streets, they get to avoid the gangs How they assault our girls Don't tell me to just save my money and go next year It is not that simple We don't stay in your resorts We live en el capital y los campos nunca los hoteles y la vida blanco Aka the places you never set foot You go to my island You buy bracelets de mi bandera You try to live my roots But complain when I dare show pride for my people The hypocrisy breaks my heart It's blood pours onto my all American soil Is my island nice? Tell me do the trees sway as if they are dancing to Anthony Santos? Do the branches act as the leading man guiding the leaves to swing their stems to beat? Does the Dominican anthem ring in the hearts of the people A pride that is new and vibrant radiating off their faces How they have clear all their schedules to make sure you see the highlights of our land When you eat do you feel as though each bite was made with the love of thousand of abuelas? Can you envision the hours she spends over a hot gas stove stirring los habichuelas y arroz Using what little food they have left over to feed you over their own blood? Tell me does my island make you proud? It makes my heart filled with joy To know my people did something right that you would walk the same land as slaves That somehow we got enough pride to make sure you had a good time that you were safe that you can have whatever you wanted On my island Tell me, what left is there to complain about? Mi isla es mi corazón, mi sueño, es mi vida Pero to you it is just another week out the calendar My heart will break every march Because when you come back you complain how in the Dominican Republic no one spoke to you in English And I worry, how you think when Dominicans come here we should speak English But when you come to our home you don't want us to speak our language Your hypocrisy hurts My island does all it can to make you happy But you are never pleased What more can we do You take pieces of us and use them in your portrait of appropriation You take our pride and use it as joke My heart breaks For the children like me Never seeing their land Except on Instagram in the middle of march
0
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
Orgulloso
My heart breaks every spring break It breaks for kids like me who watch as others visit their home countries While we cannot leave the USA We have to sit and watch people butcher bachata Watch how they're hips refuse to accept something other than Taylor swift We listen when they come back with stories of how they thought our food was too different and not “Mexican” enough as if all Latin America is Mexico We hear the laughs they make at our cousins back home for just being themselves My heart cannot handle the privilege they wear on their sleeves when they come back Knowing I might never see my own island How I am thought it is ***** and dangerous A place where girls should not be left alone While they get the clean streets, they get to avoid the gangs How they assault our girls Don't tell me to just save my money and go next year It is not that simple We don't stay in your resorts We live en el capital y los campos nunca los hoteles y la vida blanco Aka the places you never set foot You go to my island You buy bracelets de mi bandera You try to live my roots But complain when I dare show pride for my people The hypocrisy breaks my heart It's blood pours onto my all American soil Is my island nice? Tell me do the trees sway as if they are dancing to Anthony Santos? Do the branches act as the leading man guiding the leaves to swing their stems to beat? Does the Dominican anthem ring in the hearts of the people A pride that is new and vibrant radiating off their faces How they have clear all their schedules to make sure you see the highlights of our land When you eat do you feel as though each bite was made with the love of thousand of abuelas? Can you envision the hours she spends over a hot gas stove stirring los habichuelas y arroz Using what little food they have left over to feed you over their own blood? Tell me does my island make you proud? It makes my heart filled with joy To know my people did something right that you would walk the same land as slaves That somehow we got enough pride to make sure you had a good time that you were safe that you can have whatever you wanted On my island Tell me, what left is there to complain about? Mi isla es mi corazón, mi sueño, es mi vida Pero to you it is just another week out the calendar My heart will break every march Because when you come back you complain how in the Dominican Republic no one spoke to you in English And I worry, how you think when Dominicans come here we should speak English But when you come to our home you don't want us to speak our language Your hypocrisy hurts My island does all it can to make you happy But you are never pleased What more can we do You take pieces of us and use them in your portrait of appropriation You take our pride and use it as joke My heart breaks For the children like me Never seeing their land Except on Instagram in the middle of march
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55
All I wanted was to party To loose myself for a couple of days To let go of everything that has been piling up on my life But instead i made my life even worse I took some of this with that And did I mention the free drinks But hours in I met my match and it was all over He said I was nice, and that I was funny He also gave me drinks And soon I couldn't even remember my own name Let alone scream for help when he attacked me It only took a couple of minutes and it was done Taken away from me while I was loosing myself Why didn't I think that would happen? Because I didn't think that I could be hurt by anything anymore But I was
0
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
Spring Break 2K16
the warm sun hits my face and here i sit thinking: if I was still to be counting the days since the last time I felt at home when my lips were on your lips and our bodies were intertwined- i'd be wasting my precious time away. you were never home, you were more or less a hotel room i had wrongfully mistaken for home. you made me feel comfy&cozy; for the time being and then kicked me out as if i was nothing and then quickly replaced me with new tenants. joke is on you, i might have thought i needed you but i made it through the winter without you& now spring is upon us and i'm thrilled to further distance myself from the time I messed up by calling you "HOME" thanks for not sticking around. ~CMD
0
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
spring break.
Sophomore year. Spring break. Crying. Why can’t I stop? Just stop it, god **** it! You’re being pathetic. Ding Ding It’s a text. “Hey! You free tonight?” I didn’t think he’d text me. I can’t. It’d be wrong. “Totally. What’d you have in mind?” Oh no. What’d I just do? “I could pick you up around 10 and maybe just chill?” 10? Pm? Why so late? “Yeah. Can’t wait!” Tick Tick Tick Tick 9pm: What do I wear? What do I wear? 9:45pm: Put on eyeliner. Put on mascara. Put on lipstick. 10pm: Okay. 10:05pm: Where is he? 10:10pm: Just wait. 10:15pm: Should be here anytime now. 10:20pm: Just a couple more minutes. 10:25pm: Give him some more time. I can’t expect him to be here right away. 10:30pm: Is he coming? 10:35pm: Did he forget? 10:45pm: It was a joke. Funny. 10:50pm: Ding Ding It’s a text. “Hey, I’m here.” Open my window. Crawl out. Ouch! A nail  was sticking out. Blood. Blood is dripping down my leg. It's okay. He's here. He's here. What am I doing? "Hey, you look nice." He thinks I look nice. "Thanks." We drive. And drive. And drive. Where are we? It’s dark. So dark. I hear crickets. And his breathing. His breathing. His breathing. His breathing. What is this? A shed. Abandoned. “Sit down.” Where do I sit? It’s so dark. I can’t see. Where are we? Where am I? Where am I? His hand is on my thigh. What’s he doing? “You’re so beautiful.” He can’t see me. I can’t see him. It’s so dark. “Thanks.” His hand is higher now. I should’ve worn pants. He’s taking off my underwear My package bought ******* What’s he doing? What’s he doing? What’s he doing! Do I like it? Is he happy? I want him to be happy. Just let him do it. His breathing. His breathing. My breathing. It’s gone. My underwear. Oh my god. Just sit here. It’s okay. He’s here. He’s not going to hurt me. He can’t. He won’t. It’s okay. He’s unzipping. What’s he unzipping? I can’t see. His hands on my ******* I don’t know what to feel. What do I feel? What should I feel? What does he feel? His hands on my bare legs. I flinch. “It’s okay.” It’s okay. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Stop please. Please stop. I can’t take it. I can’t take it. Stop. I want to be happy. I just want to be happy. I want him to be happy. Just be happy. Be happy. Happy. Is he happy? Tick Tick Tick Tick
0
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
Tick Tick
Sophomore year. Spring break. Crying. Why can’t I stop? Just stop it, god **** it! You’re being pathetic. Ding Ding It’s a text. “Hey! You free tonight?” I didn’t think he’d text me. I can’t. It’d be wrong. “Totally. What’d you have in mind?” Oh no. What’d I just do? “I could pick you up around 10 and maybe just chill?” 10? Pm? Why so late? “Yeah. Can’t wait!” Tick Tick Tick Tick 9pm: What do I wear? What do I wear? 9:45pm: Put on eyeliner. Put on mascara. Put on lipstick. 10pm: Okay. 10:05pm: Where is he? 10:10pm: Just wait. 10:15pm: Should be here anytime now. 10:20pm: Just a couple more minutes. 10:25pm: Give him some more time. I can’t expect him to be here right away. 10:30pm: Is he coming? 10:35pm: Did he forget? 10:45pm: It was a joke. Funny. 10:50pm: Ding Ding It’s a text. “Hey, I’m here.” Open my window. Crawl out. Ouch! A nail  was sticking out. Blood. Blood is dripping down my leg. It's okay. He's here. He's here. What am I doing? "Hey, you look nice." He thinks I look nice. "Thanks." We drive. And drive. And drive. Where are we? It’s dark. So dark. I hear crickets. And his breathing. His breathing. His breathing. His breathing. What is this? A shed. Abandoned. “Sit down.” Where do I sit? It’s so dark. I can’t see. Where are we? Where am I? Where am I? His hand is on my thigh. What’s he doing? “You’re so beautiful.” He can’t see me. I can’t see him. It’s so dark. “Thanks.” His hand is higher now. I should’ve worn pants. He’s taking off my underwear My package bought ******* What’s he doing? What’s he doing? What’s he doing! Do I like it? Is he happy? I want him to be happy. Just let him do it. His breathing. His breathing. My breathing. It’s gone. My underwear. Oh my god. Just sit here. It’s okay. He’s here. He’s not going to hurt me. He can’t. He won’t. It’s okay. He’s unzipping. What’s he unzipping? I can’t see. His hands on my ******* I don’t know what to feel. What do I feel? What should I feel? What does he feel? His hands on my bare legs. I flinch. “It’s okay.” It’s okay. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Stop please. Please stop. I can’t take it. I can’t take it. Stop. I want to be happy. I just want to be happy. I want him to be happy. Just be happy. Be happy. Happy. Is he happy? Tick Tick Tick Tick
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151
but i know there's no ghost on this island cause his hands would be all covered in bud not much else but a sight for the red eyed a reality that seems real enough everything you could want you can find by the beach but after the music stops it seems everything dies I've had my fun but I know its so empty think i’ll just lay here until the sunrise the dark waves of the night try to calm me a drunk drag, lungs swell with liquid black drowning in these thoughts on this island hoping the waves will carry me back
0
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 6:40 PM UTC
island hymn
Passion fruit. Banana ***** papaya dreams so nice and juicy. Papa's up. The game is down, these other kings just ain't around. Bang, Bang, Who's Up?! Bang, Bang, Who's Down?! These other authors they hit the ground. I don't mean to fright, I don't mean to leave I just got this thing that drives me. I don't need to fight, but it feels, so, soo, good. But all the po' lease think that it's my neighborhood. Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I like ya' Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I'll bite ya' I know you's a freak, so bring a friend I got rubber sheets, so I can break you in Some other girls, think go around But the truth is I just go downtown The Rick Owens Store is like my homepage If you ain't Facebook than you ain't gettin' laid Obscur is fresh, Henrik's a boss, but I have to say Trentemoeller really Lost. I liked Last Resort, even Harbour Trips, but lately he's been on some ****** up **** My parents want me to go get a Jay Oh Bee But I'm too busy, sleeping. My baby's face is porcelain, but I can't afford it So I said it looked aluminum. Dem people not, be steppin' on my toes Cause' I'll show up reppin' Sheridan Rd. with my Colt '44. Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over ya ripe now Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over I'll bite ya Your black garters' hot, so is yo' lace bikini When it comes to lingerie, I play it like Houdini Whether it's Agent Provocateur or Victoria's Secret I hold my *** until I can put it in your **** Relationship is such a ***** word But when it comes to ***** I like 4-letter verbs You can bring..um..whatever you want But if you gotta **** **** ***** I'm out.
0
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
Riff Raff Rag Stock
Passion fruit. Banana ***** papaya dreams so nice and juicy. Papa's up. The game is down, these other kings just ain't around. Bang, Bang, Who's Up?! Bang, Bang, Who's Down?! These other authors they hit the ground. I don't mean to fright, I don't mean to leave I just got this thing that drives me. I don't need to fight, but it feels, so, soo, good. But all the po' lease think that it's my neighborhood. Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I like ya' Ooh girl I like ya' C'mon over I'll bite ya' I know you's a freak, so bring a friend I got rubber sheets, so I can break you in Some other girls, think go around But the truth is I just go downtown The Rick Owens Store is like my homepage If you ain't Facebook than you ain't gettin' laid Obscur is fresh, Henrik's a boss, but I have to say Trentemoeller really Lost. I liked Last Resort, even Harbour Trips, but lately he's been on some ****** up **** My parents want me to go get a Jay Oh Bee But I'm too busy, sleeping. My baby's face is porcelain, but I can't afford it So I said it looked aluminum. Dem people not, be steppin' on my toes Cause' I'll show up reppin' Sheridan Rd. with my Colt '44. Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over ya ripe now Ooh girl I like ya C'mon over I'll bite ya Your black garters' hot, so is yo' lace bikini When it comes to lingerie, I play it like Houdini Whether it's Agent Provocateur or Victoria's Secret I hold my *** until I can put it in your **** Relationship is such a ***** word But when it comes to ***** I like 4-letter verbs You can bring..um..whatever you want But if you gotta **** **** ***** I'm out.
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I remember this one time that You and I went to the beach and We fell in love as we Got up early to watch the sun rise and Kissed and held hands and cared not At all Who was watching. I had never felt love like that So thrilling and still Reciprocal and Just so head over heels I couldn't tell where was up and How it differed from down As my head twisted around your Stone cold exterior and Cracked the surface as I Crumbled.
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Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:39 AM UTC
Spring Break
We met outside of a dingy doorframe of a hotel room and automatically blurted out introductions at the same time, pinking our cheeks and slowing us down. The way you breathed out your name as if it was the lingering smoke from the last drag of your cigarette captured my attention and kept me hungry for more. Three days passed and we were caught wrapped in the white sheets of Room 243, whispering compliments of the craft of my soft lips on your bare skin in between green apple Smirnoff-soaked kisses. You didn’t mind when I desperately needed to find my best friend wrapped in the arms of a half-naked frat boy by the bonfire flames, just to tell her she was the best friend I have ever had. I didn’t mind when we ran through the hotel hallways to find your best friend on the brink of arrest, barefoot and broke, giving the shuttle drivers a hard time. We said goodbye outside the dented door of the shuttle we coincidentally took together the morning after, leaving behind our two a.m. talks of improvisations and dances to stupid songs by the DJ in the other world that is Lake Havasu. May 5, 2014 4:17:28 PM
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Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
Alcohol Kindled Acquaintances