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Georgia Feb 2018
I can't feel my brain
I don't know why I can't
Or if humans are even meant to
But my brains numb
Could be what I smoke
Possibly how much I drink
But whiskey doesn't hurt
Once your already burned
From a love
You've drunk away before
  Feb 2018 Georgia
Eric the Red
The truth about poets
Is
They’re not all alike
Some are derelicts
Scalawags
Lovers
Sisters
Some say they’re writers
Instead of Poet
For they know what that puts
Into the minds of others
Romantic
Lethargic
Gypsy
Some will never write novels
Poems are their Ulysses
Their ‘Love in the Time Of Cholera
Some are sad
Withdrawn
Choose to live there
While some poets
Use their words
To claw their way out
Some have fallen out of love
&
Want someone
ANYONE
to listen
While some have fallen in
the deepest ocean
&
Want to tell the world
What this man
This woman
Means to them

Most write their verses
Alone
Some at midnight
Some at sunrise
Some with coffee
Most with bottles

Most will never see the reaction
Of many
Will never hear
‘I like that...’

And most don’t want to be famous
Or sometimes heard
We
Just want to be
Ourselves
Georgia Feb 2018
See humans aren't like glass because we can be broken but still have life but at the same time you can be cracked but so hollow,
like your insides are frozen and broken all dried up and gone but no damage has actually been sustained to you, there's no reason that the glass cracked it just did.
That's what everyone thinks
Cause no one can see through the glass and the stuff inside the glass well that's your head and your heart and what hides in the bottom of the never ending bowl is what makes it crack, the depression turns the water black, anxiety makes it cold,
the paranoia makes it swirl into tsunamis and waves the hight of mountains,
the drugs poison the life that lived and that's just the beginning of the trauma, after that you've got the bullying and the anorexia,
then let's not even start on the problems that started the day you were born because who actually cares right now?
everyone only sees the mask I portray but its okay cause nobody can see through the glass mask I hide behind
So I'm okay
  Feb 2018 Georgia
Ashley Hope
You love my green eyes when they sparkle in the sunlight after a beautiful day,
But not when they turn marble and fill with tears when I lose myself yet again,
You love my hair when it is styled as I prepare for the evening ahead,
But not when it is ***** from where I first woke up after another restless night,
You love my hands when they are Intwined in yours and my nails are painted on,
But not when they're covered in my blood from where I wasn't strong,
You love my wrists when they're layered in jewelry,
But not when the scars can be seen,
You love my lips when I taste like cherries and they're pressed against yours,
But not when they are cracked from biting as anxiety kicks in,
You love my body when it's wrapped around yours,
But not when the sunlight shows how many stretch marks have formed,
You love my mind when it's dancing with happy thoughts,
But not as it slowly slips away.
wrote this a year ago when I  was in a toxic relationship.
  Feb 2018 Georgia
Nat Lipstadt
be my therapist

massage both my temples
from whence these poems originate

will your fingertips perform tailored alterations,
will they insert strange spices and your favors,
unfamiliar but imagined overtime desirable flavors,
thus resolving the question that my answers perpetually fail,
to satisfy my unending need to understand:

how do my temples
speed the heart
bring forth whole poem utterances inconceivable,

reminding me to remember what has yet to occur?

she grins, whimsies me and suggests:

that’s why they have been
appointed anointed announced as the
Temples of You

2:19am 2/19/18
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