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Stop replaying that night when you drank too much and said the wrong things and kissed the wrong person.

Stop wishing you could take back the words you said in the fight that ended things for good.

Stop wishing you had gotten better grades in high school instead of taking up a habit that you still haven't broken 5 years later.

Stop wishing you had taken more pictures last Christmas because you didn't know it would be the last Christmas you would spend with your father.

Stop wondering if your best friend took what you said that one time the wrong way.

Stop hating yourself for staying quiet that one time you saw something you knew was wrong, but turned a blind eye.

We are all ****** up people.
We are all flawed.
We have all hurt someone we love, we have all broken things that can never be repaired.
But regret gets exhausting,
and eventually,
if you let it,
it will bleed you dry.


Forgive yourself.
I feel like the only thing I have to offer in my writing any more are things that I'm going through, and from my own experience.
I've kind of hit a writing block for a while now.
If anyone has a topic that they'd like me to write something on, please let me know!
I hope you all enjoyed this, and I hope you're one day able to forgive yourself for that one thing that you carry around with you everywhere you go.
**
My whiskey habit is complimented then insulted by the ever temperamental voice of Jim Morrison,
I listen to Alabama Song by The Doors
I throw my pen and page
In an anger induced rage
As my mind recites the wrong words
To his poems and songs
His voice plays on repeat
All i can do is blame myself as the primitive synth dances it's oscillating tunes through one of my depleted senses.
My hearing
Mojo Rising's face crudely made into pop art painting by a fan, an idoliser's image
Suddenly the fender telecaster takes over the smokey airways
Hypnotising, mesmerising
as it fills the space between the barely conscious being and the walls that surround
The tempo of the snare, tom and high hat slows
I now have time to gather my ever harsh and bitter thoughts
Harsh like the whiskey, bitter like me
Errors are inevitable, go **** yourselves
how are you?
  the constant question i'm assailed with

how are you?
  the only answer i've come up with:
      horrible
      awful
      heart & soul broken
      viciously violently depressed
      worst i've ever been
      & worse every day
      hate my self
      hate my life
      wish i was dead

my inner self
  is begging to be someone else
it's not the first time
  just the worst time

becuz she wasn't first love
  just first LOVE

the thing is
  as much as i wanted a billion years of youth together
many millions of much's more
  what i wanted was our forever together
and at 85 You would have made me feel just as alive
  and still nervous & excited
and been beautiful
and twirled whirled my soul

**** You didn't want me
  even one more day
so You nicely crumpled me
  and threw me away

it turns out forever
  is 7 months
then it's a lot of never
  for the rest of my months

and the violence of awakening
  (a demon thirst with no slaking)
will be ripping ragged holes in my soul
  far more than 7 months after me heart was torn apart

so how am i?
  me, whose every day begins and ends
    with a sobbing cry

i am hopeful
        hope full
or actually i'm me,
  its absolute opposite....

(please stop asking)
One girl wanted me
But I wanted the other
So I chased the other all night
Just to make her my lover

One girl smiled
The other turned away
One girl left
But the other girl stayed

One girl looked
As good as the others
But the other girl had dated
One of my brothers

One girl helped
Chase away my blues
The other girl tried
To run me through

One girl whispered
In my ear
The other girl said
What I wanted to hear

One girl I could proudly
Take home to  mother
But Mother wasn't happy
when I brought home the other

One girl treated me as kind as can be
The other girl always cheated on me

Life would have been so easy
With just that one
But now the other girl is the mother
Of my daughter and sons...

**** it all!
True story!
READ BETWEEN THE LINES
________
  I
_______
­LOVE
________
YOU!
_______­__
Men can be dense sometimes!
 Jun 2014 the ginger bread man
ln
I could chug a ciggarette
Or I could chew some gum instead

I could keep reaching for the blade
Or I could just reach for the color pencils instead

I could gulp down a Heineken
Or I could settle for green tea instead

I could roll some ****
Or I could just paint a scenery instead

They say we're all addicted to something
That takes the pain away

I say otherwise.

We're all addicted to something
Just because we long for temporary satisfaction
We're all addicted to something
Just because we think it heals
We're all addicted to something
Just because, we made a choice

You don't sit there and say
" It's the only escape I have "
Because no, it's not
You make a choice

And that choice you make,
*It defines who you are.
Drinking summer skin,
I hear the voices in the night sky
I'm a slave to the darkness around the stars,
and I can't remember why

One, two, twenty-three percocet in my soul.
Ambulance lights breathing throughout the mist.
Pump my stomach like the sawed-off shotgun
that I was too afraid to use,
because what if I 'miss'?
What spectrum of desolation to be traced with lips;
to kiss away the desire to exist.

Mirrored reflection injection causes the resurrection of my imperfection.
I see me for who I am, who I was, and who I won't be.
It's the collection of
my eyes dilating and my knees speculating their arrival
to the blue and white tiling disguised as neo-survival.
My mind is evaporating. My body begins to convulse.
I am a ghost in a machine. I am without a pulse
All or nothing
I've reached this crossroad
Before this, I've been hiding in fiction
In every word I've read and wrote

I'm stepping up to the plate
Because I can't stop the world
How much do I want to live?
How hard am I willing to battle?

Can I count on you
To lead my through this Wonderland?
If I take the easy route
Would you still hold my hand?

The road I walk on now
Is shrouded with hate and shame
And I'll have to fight impulses
As I'm inclined to stay the same

Because the future's in my palms
And I'll meet a dead end
If I keep up this way
And don't stop this trend

Standing at this pivot point
Preparing for what comes next
Since the hardest part of getting better
Is taking the first step
Things have been crazy recently. I've started talking to adults about my emotionally abusive mother and my dad's been talking about moving in with him or someone else and getting help and also I have a huge other world of problems like my suicidal ideation and my eating disorder and I feel like getting help and facing my problems is impossible and yet it's so close.
read from bottom to top*


down
   us
     bring
            to
               try
           they
when
        smoke
   like
     rise
We'll
Trying some concrete poetry again.
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