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Feb 2014 · 399
In the making of a lasher
white coat Feb 2014
I think it's sick the papsmere wasn't regulated and readily available until the mid sixties

I think it's sick that women feel less threatened when a man asks to stick her finger I his ***
Than if he can pull her hair

I'm too young to feel this old
I'm too old to feel this disinclined

You told me I smelled like rain
After you left that Wednesday service

The **** of your God
Feb 2014 · 776
Tremble
white coat Feb 2014
Songs you wrote for me
Bits and phrases
Little melodies I didn't hear

Surface tension

Sleeping with your hands on my hips
Planted stories in my head

Waking up to find you in my sheets

Self conscious breathing

Don't forget my ceiling (me)
Jan 2014 · 424
Untitled
Jan 2014 · 511
\
white coat Dec 2013
I forgot how to count my bones
But I guess that doesn't matter
I was angry about something
but your blood talked me out of it
And its hard to remember anything except your hands
or how hot tears feel running down my numb cheeks

1 drink
2 drinks
5 drinks
10 drinks
A drink for every false idol
2 for every lost profit

I'm losing my religion to a ghost
the least you could do is look away
Dec 2013 · 305
Untitled
white coat Dec 2013
Im trying to ******* understand things
if padraic died five times
then how does he not know his name
was it all the samee
was he all the same
im about to stick a lot of pins in my amr
maybe the blood will fix my head
i dont know what is happening
Dec 2013 · 2.2k
Im upset
white coat Dec 2013
You know how some songs have that one part at the end
Where maybe its sort of a up beat song but then the tempo goes way down
And there is that subtle realization that everything is not ok
Like there is that truth
That all knowing, omniscient truth that things are unsettled

That's basically me

And I'm really ******* upset
I'm hurt, you hurt me
But its not, I can't
I'm more upset because this was so inevitable
And maybe if you just told me you loved me more
Or maybe if you made it clear to me more that you cared
Maybe that would have been ok
But honestly not, because the ******* world is ending

HOW CAN I BE YOUR BEST FRIEND WHEN MY FINGERS AND TOES ARE FALLING FF AT NIGHT
Dec 2013 · 430
Dear Daddy
white coat Dec 2013
Dear Daddy, the boy on the corner told me my voice was pretty. Aren't you proud of me daddy? I smoke just like you.
Dec 2013 · 350
Shit Tunes
white coat Dec 2013
Its  a thing too listen to music when you don't want to do anything else
to sit and drown out what ever
It's something I often try, but in past transgressions have not had much luck with

"I can still hear your skin on my skin"

Turns out it just wasn't loud enough
Isn't that stupid
I just had to turn the ******* volume up
Nov 2013 · 815
don't say grace
white coat Nov 2013
Some girls sell their virginity for five thousand dollars

My virginity was worth 25 dollars and a bucket of ping pong *****

I don’t see the guy much anymore, he’s very important; worth a lot more than a coffee date and a kiss on the forehead (or briefly on the mouth)

My dad knows I kiss boys. My dad knows I smoke. My dad says not to tell my mother, so I don’t. “Gauky teenage girl, smoke up, don’t tell your mother”

"Have a drink don’t, tell your mother"

"Take the car, don’t tell your mother"

He doesn’t know she’s dead. Dead to me. Dead to herself. Mourning someone with them at the same time is a weird thing. Stages of greif don’t come in tidle waves, they come in laundry fights that last 2 weeks, and sundays when we can’t get out of bed.

Its easy to romantasize parts about yourself that are untouched; that sound mundain, so they must be gold. I live in a college town. Someday I’ll be someone’s girl from indiana. I ****** a boy with sharp teeth who told me I was “******* beautiful”, but the reality about these things is that they don’t matter.

Every state has college towns (there are many other like it, but this one is mine). Being someone’s girl from indiana doesn’t count for ****, what does that say about me “my girl is a geographic mystery, because no one gives a **** about that *** **** southern mess”.

And that boy, with brown hair and sharp teeth told my I was ******* beautiful, but in the moment it made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like his body, or the way he sat. I thought his passions were redundant.

So don’t fall in love with yourself

Don’t say grace

Don’t kiss on the mouth, and don’t tell your mother

— The End —