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Jordan Clark Jun 2019
He'll show anyone his body
regardless of solicitation
while his mind consistently underperforms.

He'll love you like a brother or sister, shortly before bastardizing you
out of convenience; becoming
the spitting image of his absentee father
with brilliant strokes of somebody else's effort.

He demands the utmost respect
while shilling out putrid morsels
of his own.

He's a collector of personalities;
obsessed with his own reflection
but ironically exists as a reflection
of his immediate surroundings.

He's the one in the group project
who gets half the credit
yet only wrote his name.

He'll stand up for issues
Until the faint whisper of a knee ****
reminds him he's not getting paid.

He builds a fortune
Just to sit on it;
A free bird in his own captivity,
Covered in hemorrhoids and
paper cuts.

He's a shadow you can see through.

A glimpse of glory
surrounded by stagnation.

He's the Belle and the *****,

A fighter that delegates every strike,

Lifts his finger
only to put it over your mouth,

Gives everything but college the "college try,"

Bleeds you dry without a second thought
because he's still processing the first.

He only loves himself but doesn't know who he is.
He's an apprentice of all trades
but a master of baiting.

He was all I had.
Jordan Clark Jun 2018
She called the same guy
From the same phone
He came to the same door
In the same clothes
As the night before
And a week ago
And his independence
Is getting old
Because he's hers alone
And she won't let go
And he won't let go
And I'm collateral damage
She also owns
She couldn't be less mine
Because I'm not the same guy
With the same ****
All the dang time
And it ain't fine
But maybe one sunday night
We'll love each other at the same time
Jordan Clark Apr 2018
A dream come true for one,
A living nightmare for the other.
A pedestal with a trapdoor.
Public isolation.
Trying to reach their image of perfection when your own is already staggering;
Literally losing yourself.
Diminished in the clutch of overbearance,
Collateral damage from two ideas of fairness.
Bruises on your spirit from social doors you walked into.
A ring with a silent W.
Jordan Clark Feb 2018
Part of me lives inside her,
Like a parasite of romance and memory;
The part that raises half her mouth when the joke's a specific type of funny,
The part that keeps her eyes locked on an empty inbox,
And the part that gives her boyfriend such a diarrheal aftertaste.
It's a tapeworm of longing and contempt that she's **** good at ignoring, because she turned an empty stomach into business as usual.
But she keeps it anyway, because something about it seems so genuinely human when nothing else can match the feeling.
Because when the jokes, messages, and boyfriends are all gone this little white ******* will still need something from her. It won't go anywhere.
The glamorously empty life of a parasite at the beck and call of something just as beautifully flawed.
Jordan Clark Dec 2016
Don't lose weight
When you're poor,

You'll need a new belt
You can't afford.
Jordan Clark Dec 2016
because when I'm with her I can do anything and when she's gone I'm pretty much useless.

She's like *******

because she's even better with a little ****.

She's like *******

because well, she's white. (But that *** is pure Colombian)

She's like *******

because even her scent is enough to make me succeed at all business.

She's like *******

because I've only hit it a few times but play like I'm an expert on it.

She's like *******

because anyone with a Scarface poster in their bedroom has probably not actually had HER in it.

She's like *******

because her head game could make my nose bleed if I'm not careful.

She's like *******

because I haven't slept right since I've been without her.

She's like *******

because I'd give
every dollar I have
for another taste.
Jordan Clark Dec 2016
If there was a cure for a broken heart, could I even afford it?

And how many times can the same wound be reopened before the error goes to the stabbed?

Where is the line between glutton for punishment and repeat offender?

How many opportunities have been missed in the ever-expanding search for blame?

What good was earned and what bad was deserved?

Why does it matter?

It doesn't. But it's there.

Where are you?
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