Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tiffany Newell Aug 2014
Our love grew through parallel circuits and electric currents,
data entries in microprocessors,
and copper and silver wires.
Who says love has to be a series of
physical advances,
but instead
a product of the neurons in your brain.
We can get high off of love,
dive into dopamine induced comas
as we listen to the static over each other's microphones.
We'll dream about growing old together
laugh at our younger selves
and how many times we had to
confess our love for one another
before hanging up the phone.
Then I wake up and realize
maybe I was never meant to
see the stars in your eyes
or bask in the light of your presence
but wallow in the glow of an LCD screen.
Countless nights and early mornings
spent in 320p.
Tiffany Newell Oct 2013
It's 2 am
The television is quietly mocking me,
telling me I'm too large for my skin,
and providing a simple solution:
tiny capsules of hope, plagued with consequences.
Caution: may cause nausea, infertility, and (in some cases) death;
but isn't that a fair trade for a flat stomach?
The media consumes us:
"Slim is ****, you can be **** too!"
Girls get the message from early on that
what is most important is how they look;
not the poetry they speak
or the way they move their feet
but the size of their jeans.
Women in magazines and on TV portray an unrealistic ideal of what a woman should be.
They turn into objects.
And when we lose the fight for our humanity,
we lose the fight for equality.
Misogyny is bred through the over-sexualized photographs in magazines or on the TV screen,
but so is misandry.
Men are depicted as stolid creatures,
and boys grow up being told they should conceal their emotions,
but even the strongest walls crumble with time.
Chipping away slowly at the concrete until
a flood of passion or rage overwhelms them.
The emotional tyranny of masculinity is exhausting.
Boys' role models are fit, cocky, and brute:
He-man, Superman, Spiderman; and if you can't earn that label of "man" then what are you?

We have all been brainwashed.
Tainted to believe that the image of the ideal man or woman is what we should strive towards;
and no matter how tirelessly we scrub, the idea remains;
like the residue of a bumper sticker you used to believe in.
It is too late for us, but the future holds innumerable possibilities for a better world.
A world where women are not accused of provoking **** because of their short shorts and men are offended by the idea because it suggests that they are incapable of control.
A world where men aren't seen of as weak or unmanly because they express themselves emotionally outside of their bedrooms.
A world where despite your weight, gender, race, or ****** orientation you can pursue your happiness.
Tiffany Newell Apr 2013
my ribs felt more like iron cag-

es and my heart kept scream-

ing i wasn’t sure what it was

saying a delusional criminal in

the cavity between my brain

and my genitals troubled by

the state of the union
Tiffany Newell Apr 2013
Show me my GOD

Hidden among the stars

Where solar systems collide

And burn, burn, burn;

Slowly fading into oblivion.

Our aimless lives carry on

While in the cosmos, universes fall in love

And destroy each other.
Tiffany Newell May 2012
Now, I can respect people with and without faith
But I can not respect someone with faith ignorant of someone without
Or someone without faith ignorant of someone with
We all have the right to our own beliefs
And as children we never worried about such things
We just worried about cooties and monsters under our beds
The monsters have moved out and the cooties have been cured
But with those worries settled, there have come greater problems
The problem with growing up is growing more aware
We learn that weeds aren't really flowers
And the bums on the street aren't supposed to be our friends
I wish adults were more like children
At least in believing that everyone can be friends
But as sure as I am that the sun will rise
I'm sure that people will not get along
Tiffany Newell Nov 2011
Faces and places that I can't recall.
The person lying next to me is just another one.
I'll never remember the things we laughed about earlier that night.
Or the way he smelled or the way he might have smiled all bright.
The way he touched the small of my back as we swung around the floor.
I won't remember the heavy breaths as he buried my tiny form.
The morning comes with great regret as I rise from his bed.
I bury the thoughts deep inside the pit within my head.
He's still asleep so I take the chance to leave his resting body and go home to a house that's
  cold
and
empty.
Next page