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touka Jun 2015
my relapse
into blood clots
and old pastries

lifeline: strewn across floors cold

inspiration fleeting

little hiccups

in a long, lonely fight
eh.
  May 2015 touka
Mia Pierce
When I was in an abusive relationship, I told myself I deserved it. I told myself I should be more obedient, as if I was a dog. My leash was held so tight that I couldn’t muster any words out even if I wanted to.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I soaked in every insult and only ever released apologies.
When I was in an abusive relationship, some days I flinched when he raised his hand or began to speak and other days I just sat there waiting for it. When my mom would ask about the bruises I would be surprised because I didn’t know my body was still reacting to it when my mind wasn’t.
When I was in an abusive relationship, tying nooses was a nightly thing and nothing to even be alarmed about, blood stained sheets were the norm, and suicide notes were just normal letters.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I took many different kinds of drugs throughout the day and didn’t really know which combination would **** me. Would the coke, Xanax, and alcohol **** me? Or would it be the alcohol, ******, and oxy?
When I was in an abusive relationship, all concern for myself vanished. As my addictions to many different pills such as Xanax, ******, Hydro, Oxy and many more grew, I started to smile again.
When I was in an abusive relationship, being asked how many drugs I was on was not rude or unexpected.
When I was in an abusive relationship, leaving permanently just didn’t seem like an option.
When I was in an abusive relationship, I had unconditional love for my attacker and always made sure he was okay even after he hit me.
When I was in an abusive relationship, one day, I had a revelation and found my voice.
Now, I am no longer in an abusive relationship.
TW**
  May 2015 touka
Colourful Courtney
What lies beyond the labyrinth,

near the palazzo by the sea?

What defines the walls,

allowing the maze to be?

Is there time to stop and rest within,

while trying to escape?

Are there any shortcuts through,

like spaces agape?
There is no map leading the way,

you must sort through alone.

The journey is so arduous,

while the outcome stays unknown.

As you grow weak and tired,

your legs feel numb and dull.

You won't know how you even got there,

but it is inevitable.

You've noticed the blue of the sky above,

but you cannot see the sun.

You feel a sense of urgency,

but know it unwise to run.

Dark clouds softly pepper the sky,

and you fear potential rain.

You slightly quicken your pace,

instantly increasing the pain.


You spot the end and cannot decide -

run there, or walk on.

Sprint, you choose, then collapse in the sand,

noticing the pain is gone.

A beautiful beach is what you see,

you deem it your safe haven.

You turn your eyes up to the sky,

and spot a dark bird - a raven.
touka May 2015
In city, I shrivel and cry.

fire to power lines;

forever tied to old habits

and vacant highway signs.
"And I ride for the principle, solid mind individual."
stay in one place, kid
  May 2015 touka
David Rosson
at one point i threw myself into a puddle of negligence and reveled in the sickingly delightful pleasures of self indulgence and cynicism

i knew no moderation and i knew no god, and without a hint of balance i nonchalantly stumbled across a tightrope that was threaded with desire and desperation

beyond the point of no return i realized the scars i bore were testaments of ******* that cried crimson tears of a faith long contorted

i needed a catalyst, and i fell from the tightrope in a similar way i fell from grace

all of the time i spent moving backwards sent the hands of the clock in a frenzy, and the last i remember they had moved backwards infinitely more than i ever could
touka May 2015
subtle, shallow breath spread;
there, the cold and sombre fall, giving weary heart rest.

but how it did fester under his tongue; how his regret did cry in such a sepulchre throat.

but still, did the sea pull. still, did her lips part to make air, and let her body scream life.

still, did leaves grow, and still did they fall.

still, was there living, even in a woman's grief.
touka Feb 2015
Frailer than last time, in sullen plight, and trembling cold;
goal waned an ailing crescent.
Childlike in premise, but seized in discord; a gracious whole.
haven't wrote in a while. short but hopefully sweet.
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