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Tallulah Sep 2014
A blind man asked me
what i was looking for
sobbing on the kitchen floor
I blinked and saw oblivion

A deaf man played
the sweetest music I’ve heard
the notes feathered and frayed
it was more than I could ask for

A mute woman spoke
of a black sort of peace
that’s louder than words
and softer than fleece

Men have feared much greater things
of colossal serpents with devils wings
but I only fear the greater good
and if you only knew, you would
Tallulah Sep 2014
I found you between touches on screens
through swiping on pocket machines
and I met you in the long shadow of sunset
you smoked a cigar and I a cigarette

We put the stars in our eyes
and found ufos and Russian spies
and gave ourselves to the not knowing
but knowing this wanting to keep going

So at one am we kissed at Chevron
with a smirking cashier looking on
and I did so without a second thought
because, honestly, how could I not?
Tallulah Sep 2014
I fell in love with you
the same way I fell out:
slowly and then all at once
Tallulah Aug 2014
I promise to stop loving you tomorrow
but for tonight let me put my head
on your shoulder

I promise to forget you tomorrow
but for tonight we can get high on
the velvet porch

I promise to stop loving you tomorrow
but tonight let’s pretend
it isn’t tomorrow
Tallulah Aug 2014
First, find yourself being told: “constructive criticism can only help your writing.” Climb on top of the table and scream at the top of your lungs, this will help release some stress and usually insight fear in those who dare to criticize your masterpiece. Sit back down and nod knowingly. If the critic chooses to continue, assume a defensive position such as standing on all fours with your back arced as if to pounce.
Instead of listening to the incessant ramblings of the critic, opt for singing the lyrics to “Dude looks like a lady” in your head while staring at his overly feminine features. Note to yourself that you will write a story about a man who is ridiculously critical as a means to compensate for his lack of masculinity. Smile to yourself. When he asks why you are smiling just say, “Oh, your advice is just soooooo enlightening” and then give a little giggle. Leave the workshop immediately and locate the nearest Starbucks. Buy one latte, nonfat of course, and sit in the corner hoping someone will ask you if you are a writer. No one will. Pout.
You walk to the bar to meet your friend because you are too broke to take a cab. Ignore every word she says; she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. So what she went to Yale and is a well paid, anorexic tax attorney? That’s boring. You are a writer. You’re a poet.  It’s a misunderstood art form. When Shelby suggests you try to get a job in journalism, laugh in her face. Take a cookie and savor it in front of her. Maintain eye contact. Note to yourself to write a story about a woman with a Yale degree that gets so bored filing taxes she dies.
When your father starts to say, “I just can’t pay for you to ***** around in NYC anymore.” Compare him to Osama Bin Laden in hopes of getting the point across that he is about to annihilate your dreams and, probably, the dreams of thousands of girls who have yet to read your unpublished masterpieces. When he says you are being ridiculous, tell him you wish you were adopted.
Tallulah Jul 2014
She wore forget-me-nots
in her hair, but every morning
they only called her darling.
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