"analyzes" poems
A haunting stare with a serious note
Originates in a lad just thirteen
Ready to command or to set to task
Obedient, mature, and quick to rule
More comfortable with adults than peers
An old soul has he, loves cars from the past
Collects Civil War relics and antiques
Spends most his time reading and researching
Reads historical fiction, lost in time
Analyzes plants, insects, and ol' coins
He could be described like Chaucer's Cleric
"And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach."
He desires, especially, silver
Yet, gold and ex-presidents faces too
Protects younger members of his small clan
Only his hand will be attacking foe
It might be his fine grades, his quirk or two
That humbles his parents. Proudly they stand
And admire their first born miracle
A babe no more, his age will meet his soul.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
Drown the sound of my thoughts so loud
What makes my gears grind all around.
My mind over analyzes and wanders
My mind realizes, and yet still ponders.
With all intention to stop my mind from tracing.
Around the track my brain is still racing.
The cycle starts to diminish, It's quieter now.
it's nearly finished, The question is how?
Busy smoke whistle from my ears
Gears collapsing, like they've been at work for years.
You've been casting my heart into the air.
Pretending like I don't care, when I find strands of your hair.
Though things are not as they seem.
Being shouldered away, I'm still your locked dream.
Surly aware, I held my spirit higher
My thoughts were still burning,
And raging like wildfire
Linger in the slumber, the dreams we hold
To watch the mold as your eyes unfold.
We count the stars as our sky gets clear
To pass the time as dreams get near.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
Favourite nerve-wracking days
meet carefully sweet irony
Journeying continues,
insinuating ignored answers
Porcelain begs,
hoping painful exists
Difficult burning overcame
caring tender memories
Doctor specifically outlines:
indefinite,
obscure,
bland reality
Endlessly changing predictions
force desperate safe haven
nothing helps
Miss doll lovely,
perfect,
shaken,
abandoned,
sick,
dead
Wishing stops,
scarring trust,
tearing irrelevant curiosity,
keeping nightmares closer
Month,
month,
month,
month
Repetitively
wrecked voice
struggling situations
Oh,
Miss doll lovely,
secure,
particular,
neutral,
enveloped,
unglued
Spontaneity analyzes fortifications
forcing unprotected souls
overtaken faces
wearing hurtful aspect
Month,
month,
month,
month
Intravenous consequences
silver surgeon
irrelevant grace upon
her heavy neckline
medicated extremities
Oh,
Miss doll lovely,
designed unconscious,
forced,
weary,
sober,
sedated
Friends opinions
especial curiosity
suppressed predictions believed
feet solely on Reason Street
accompanied by Pushing Negativity
nothing’s changing
Second,
Minute,
Day,
Week,
Month,
month,
month,
month
Oh,
Miss doll lovely,
evident,
profound,
bare,
suffering,
dying
Loneliness laughs
limits reached
heartbreaks stated
emotional crashing
déjà vu stays,
a wishful memory
deceit captivates each:
Second,
Minute,
Hour,
Day,
Week,
Month,
month,
month,
month
A curve catatonic
victim tattered at gates of steel
guarded
grasping winter
greatest attempts trying to understand
Nurse,
feet, ankles, organized steps
communications
understandings
Fractured faces cry
broken tears
honest weak calling
home hurts
useless moonlight lips
Month,
month,
month,
month,
Year,
year,
year,
year
Oh,
Miss doll lovely,
not waking,
haunting,
insane,
blackened,
cold
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 9:07 AM UTC
I love this time of year
seducing the nights of November
faintly hearing my past self praying to my present
most of my skin bare, colliding with the falls frosty air
I can see the stars but feel the effortless boundaries of gravity
pounding
yet its somewhat comforting knowing I am contained
I become more human than spirit
with senses intact
and in truth, it feels good, feels present
to have the soul and mind separated
my human wrappings can still inhale the world and feel the touch of the dead
but it suppresses eternity
suffocates the inner philosopher that analyzes everything as more than known..seen
it hears the time ticking, senses the warmth of the clocks arms
feels the weight of the choices
In my present self, in my flesh, my skin
I can feel the beautiful ecstasy
of simply
sitting on my rooftop
and drinking white wine.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC
He
Would like this poem
Its short and clean and simple
Nothing frilly or bright or extravagant
He
Is the reason for so many smiles
He
Protects me like a taco on a cold hard floor
He
Encourages me and eats pasta with me
He
Judges tattoos, analyzes photographs, listens to my qualms
He
Shows me skateboarding
He
Is wonderful
He
Is taken
I
Have no idea what to do.
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 7:35 AM UTC
i'm seeing a psychoanalytic therapist
they want to analyze me
because my so called life has turned into the scariest
and somehow in a country of freedom i can't be free
they want to analyze me like a mathematician
analyzes the graph of an unknown function
psychiatric ward it says in the papers for my admission
i'm not crazy somebody please give me a definition
how do you think you can analyze a human
you can't look inside my mind
where all my thoughts are blooming
creating my emotions, feelings or something of an other kind
why do all my actions need a reason
how do you know i didn't write that poem
just to show them how i see the world
it doesn't necessarily mean i'm broken
just because you do not understand
doesn't mean I suffer from some unknown disease
why analyze a masterpiece
cause that's what every single human is
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
You are fifteen the first time someone says your name like it is made of electricity. He is made of sunlight, the kind that you wake up feeling on your skin and the kind of voice you still hear ringing like your favorite song in your head even after you hang up the phone.
You love him simply because he is real.
When you talk to him, you no longer feel compelled to think with your brain. Rather, it is the monotonous thump within the cavern walls of your chest that does the thinking for you.
When he says your name like a contagion he is desperate to catch, it skips. The spaces between the beats become less and less defines, both snare drum hearts pounding in unison for each other. Nothing else exists except for him and those hypnotic eyes, like footprints he leaves behind on the surface of your soul.
Your lips meet under the luminescence of the Big Dipper above, beneath the radiance of the same stars you used to curse before you met him. You recall the moment you had given up at the irrational idea of love, shaking your fists at God, screaming questions that only time could possibly answer. The days when the only thing reverberating against your lips was a collection of absence and everything left unsaid. But those days are over, and now he looks at you- gazes into your eyes like had found what he had spent seventeen years unknowingly searching for.
You can't help a smile from blossoming across your face because your heart, though it thinks, over analyzes, now it understands. He is your serendipity, a piece of heaven revealed to you at the least expected time. When all you wanted to do was destroy your fragile skin with the remnants of what could have been, he became your guardian angel. One that pulled you from the wrath and toil of your deepest afflictions and whispered, “You are safe. You are home.”
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
And as the seconds tick away, I countdown to my departure.
Four more days, I think to myself.
That's all I need to endure before I leave this place.
I'll leave this small town and return to my former French town.
I can't wait to see faces and hear voices I haven't in a while.
But,
I can't help but feel it was my fault all along.
Maybe you've poisoned me. Maybe you know I'd **** to have you be my everything.
Unfairly, your words penetrate my thoughts like a needle through a water balloon.
And like a sponge, my brain over analyzes each word.
And,
like a young child, I get wrapped in my imagination,
teetering between one idea and another.
I'm indecisive,
I always have been,
but if there's one thing I know,
ninety-six hours to go.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 12:02 AM UTC
He says hello
And he means simply that.
She analyzes such an intro
and draws plans to enact.
He shrugs his shoulders
Because he really doesn't know.
She reads too far in
and can't seem to let it go.
He walks away
Because there's nothing left to say.
She remains drowning
Distressed damsal in a falsified play.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 4:14 PM UTC
She stood by the window
Watching the rain pour down
It was as though each drop
That hit the glass and rolled down
Was a short lie
A number of those hitting the window
Before her eyes
Yet in felt as though it was raining inside
The drops left their physical bodies on the glass
And their souls proceeded to become one with her
The cold of the floor going through her feet in to her legs
The teacup in her hand is empty
She analyzes the beautiful blue pattern
Looks like something a sweet elderly lady would have in her cuboard
On the bottom it says "made in England"
A snort of derision and dry smile
As she turns away from the rain
She catches a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirror
She shortly runs her finger by the deep wrinkles mocking her on her face
Age meant nothing to her, they were not enemies
She smiled at her age
It had no power here
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
A sadistic sickened scatter brain is something I consider myself to be
Not in the over emotional attention seeking teenager kind of way, more in the overthinking pain seeker, seeking love and affection where I know I'll get hurt
It isn't much of wanting to get hurt, it's more like wanting to be with someone so badly that you don't care how badly you're getting hurt because of it, someone who over analyzes how to get someone else to fall in love with them, forgetting to care about themselves and only caring about the person they want so badly to be in love with
It really shouldn't be hard, it should be easy
I know I don't ever shut the **** up about you, but I can't help myself
As much as I hate this, I can't stop
You're everything I want
Really you aren't, I really don't know what it is about you
Maybe it's your recklessness and how badly I wish I didn't care about everything like you don't
You pull off danger in the most seductive way, always on some **** that I've never heard of, and I ache so badly to have you
You're a ******* car crash and let me be the first to tell you that I'd die for a rush like you
You live on the edge and I'm stuck in my safe place
I'm finally coming to the realization that being in my safe place is good for me
You're just so enticing, I'd do anything to get a taste
Maybe it's the lust that's trying to convince me that this isn't love
Maybe this is love and we're just too young
You keep coming into my life and I can't tell if I should appreciate it or hate it
Either way, I don't know what I'd do without it
I don't know what I'd do without you
It ***** to be so attached to someone that doesn't even really know you're in love with them
It's been five years and your face was and still is the only face that could make my heart flutter with a simple glance
I just wish I knew what was holding me back
I don't know if it's a sign, that I should keep away, that you're a mistake
Or if it's just my head holding me back because of the ones who came into my life and rocked my world so badly that I don't have the ability to trust anything or anyone anymore
I don't know if the ones who ruined me were there to make me realize that you're my diamond in the rough, or if they taught me to stay away from bad feelings like this one
I know I should talk to you, but instead, here's another poem documenting the breaking of my heart
Maybe that's why I'm so self loathing
If I hurt myself, no one else has the chance to
You don't even need to break my heart, I'm doing it myself
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
Not all people live in fear.
Many goes on like life doesn't stop.
Not all people gets intimidated.
They accepts the fate that dealt to them.
Whether it's from wars.
Or the neighborhoods they surrounded by.
Tears are shed from the people that cried.
And tears are shed for those that survive.
Life doesn't come to an end.
Because one person chose to be a fool.
Brave souls just knows life continue on.
To surrender to the men of threats.
Means you giving into a frightful pest.
Brave souls knows life goes on.
The news analyzes the aftermath.
While speculating about their find.
While many knows the facts are wrong many of times.
So to the brave souls.
Remember, this one line "life goes on."
From life.
From death.
From threats.
Through all tears there a form of happiness.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
didn't take long before the toxicity filled your mouth
and I'm not talking about all the cigarettes you smoke-
I'm not referring to the blow you once had up your nose.
The leech has reached your lips-
you said this was the last time
but I know just like all the others that was a lie.
You cannot fool the girl who analyzes for a living
who hides under her rock and watches as people **** up.
She's social but doesn't leave her head space
so she can see right through the strides you think you take
and the love you think you're making
but instead of savioring what you think is special
you are destroying your insides.
Breath it out, stop it from consuming your body-
you're aloud to run away without question
you shouldn't have to make excuses anymore.
A friend of mine clings to toxic things
and not the drink and drugs and designer clothing
but the girl with the long hair
who dresses like she owns the night
only just to ruin his.
I wish he could see right through this-
but he doesn't want to feel so alone
inside of a city so big.
He's not so sure what home feels like anymore
so he uses her for comfort
when all she's doing is making his heart fail.
And he could never even tell the difference.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
Have you ever had that feeling-
that feeling when a particular individual
catches your eye?
That squirm in your stomach
which, in horror, tells your brain to ACT NATURAL.
He’s just a boy
you’re just a girl.
Could it ever be...more?
Have you ever had that feeling-
that feeling when your phone springs to life in a whir of vibrations and light
and the name you wished to see
magically appears like shooting stars against a midnight sky?
A smile spreads unexpectedly
from the corners of your mouth
when he tells you to have a good day
and sounds like he genuinely means it.
However, enchanting as this may be
I’m afraid to invest in half-fantasies
that I’m not entirely sure are real,
but not totally confident they’re false...
My head over-analyzes everything you’ve ever said
even as I’m screaming “STOP.”
If this continues there will be nothing left of me;
just the shining image of you I’ve created.
They say, “if you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose.”
They also say, “easier said than done.”
But I feel like taking a chance;
all I want is you.
This world is too obscure to live each day in darkness.
So welcome happiness into your being
and accept that heaven -or hell
isn’t that far away.
Suppress each feeling of disdain
and replace it with feelings of compassion.
Don’t leave words unsaid
because they usually end in regret
say it now.
Remember you are not alone
life isn’t as confusing as you think it is
and everyone deserves a happy beginning;
don’t worry about the ending.
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
Words in the air
Like slow-shifting clouds
This cross that I bear
Is growing too loud
Now, I don't know what to do
Floating ceaselessly
My fabric's come unglued
Now, oh now
Now I wanna run away
How, oh how
Can I just run away?
Now, oh now,
I want to ******* run away
How, oh how
Can I just ******* run away?
Time passes by without a second thought
My mind analyzes only what I can see
Feelings disappear without a single battle fought
Why can't we just be we and just be free?
No, because it's just never that easy
Because if it was, then life would be pretty ******
Why, oh why
Can't things just be breezy?
Now, oh now
I wish things were easy
Why, oh why
Do I need to be pleasing?
Now, oh now
I'm just searching for meaning
Now, oh now
I'm just searching for meaning
I'm just searching for meaning
Just searching for meaning
For meaning in this mess
Meaning in this mess
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
A boy trapped in a growing man's body.
Emotions uncontrollable
Environments unstable
Afraid of the past
Terrified of the future
Living only reluctantly in the now.
His history is a mess of abuse, negligence, heartbreak, and death. He forgets the first, pretends the second wasn't his fault, relives the third daily, and is so used to the fourth he just doesn't care.
Tragedy isn't tragic when it's the norm.
Misused by his father,
Mistreated by his peers,
Misunderstood by the world.
And yet, he tries.
His emotions get the best of him.
So he separates. Confronts. Analyzes.
Reinstates.
Stronger than ever, he tries again.
He no longer denies his emotions, and instead accepts them gladly.
Things are fine.
But he can feel them slipping.
So he devotes himself to his own, personal solution. He works day in, day out to understand just who he is and what he's feeling.
Acting isn't the right word, but it's the one people use.
He prefers "living."
Having done it on a daily basis for years, it only makes sense to continue to do so.
But this time, with a new goal. A new frame of mind.
He wants to be happy. happy with his past, happy with who he is, what he's done, where he's going. Just, happy.
Not that he isn't, now. Now, he's reflecting.
In his quest to trust himself, he loses the trust of others.
"You're an actor. I'm scared that I can't tell when you're being honest, or just pretending."
I'll ignore them saying that what I do on a daily basis is pretend, and just say, it still hurts.
It hurts more than everything up to that point and he begins to lose trust in himself.
The first time he hears it, doubt.
The second, fear.
The third, anger.
And as he writes and/or speaks it again, to taste the taunt on his tongue, for the eight thousand millionth time...
Vulnerability.
And this isn't his usual subject. usually he tries to change the lives of others, to write about something more than himself.
Right now, that isn't the case.
Right now, he's dropping his facade, one he'd forgotten he was wearing, and begging strangers who he can trust more than his loved ones to simply trust him.
It's hard. To try and make the world better. He's not a saint, or martyr, and he's not trying to be. He's human, and he's in more pain than he'll ever let on.
Except amidst a sea of faces and words and songs and writing and ideas he may never see again. Here, he finds comfort. Trust.
Peace.
Here he is more at home than in his mother's arms.
All he asks is for you to trust him, in kind.
He thanks you now, having finished reflecting, for doing so.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
She sees him from across the highway
He's looking back at her
one hand in his pocket, the other spanning a wave
So she blows him kisses and gestures her heart
but it can't possibly reach him
because cars and semis stretch them apart
so she spins in circles and sees what surrounds
the sight isn't nice
Because he's not around
she analyzes her chances at dodging a bullet
and admits that they don't look good
But she decides that her happiness will always be worth it
She puffs out her chest and takes in some air
and sees him smirking at her
She closes her eyes as the wind blows her hair
Wind below her feet, she skates across the road
she's never felt this rush before
and faster than expected, across from him she showed
Proud of the miracle that brought her across the highway
She reaches for the hand by his side
But he turns his back and walks away.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 6:25 PM UTC
Air is always crisp, no
matter where I am
Cool air swirls into my lungs
I think, I think and I think
I'd like to shut off this part of me
that over-analyzes
Because I have this feeling
that if I just quiet my mind
I'll experience such profound insight
like never before
It sounds counter intuitive,
But ceasing to verbalize
just may be the gateway to
most of our solutions
When I dream
I go places or do things unfathomable
I use to live quite an unfathomable life
Even though back then I was really depressed
and disassociated
When I look back, it's weird
Because it seems to me like
I should have been having the best times of my life
But really I was just in situations
That looked fun and thrilling
But I was just so perturbed back then
I lived as wildly as Hunter S Thompson back then
Or maybe I was like Jack Kerouac,
On The Road
It sounds fun
But I was just always on the run
Always trying to escape to the point
of escaping my own mind by dissociating
Looking into the mirror and feeling so distant
from the reflected image
Taking dangerous concoctions of alcohol and drugs
And not a moment of my waking life
was their a point where I wasn't high on ****
Making that Mary Jane be my codependent lover
One I couldn't live without
Even with the paranoia and the panic attacks...
Last night I had a dream
that I smoked **** again
And my throat closed up
and I started choking...
In that dream I remember what it was like
Back in my senior year of high school
I can barely remember
It was all just an excruciatingly painful blur
I wake up to my reality,
and although it's not all I want it to be
I couldn't be more grateful
That I'm out of the self sabotage
With a healthier personality
It's weird to think of who I used to be
Because of how much I've changed
I can't believe that was who I used to be
Radically reformed is my identity
It's just really weird, you see
It's beyond human reason
to understand this change
that has happened in me.
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 8:16 AM UTC
it's in your head, darling
it's all in your head
it isn't real
you're making it up
you're so paranoid, baby
they don't think about you
not nearly as much as you assume
you're making it up
you're so pessimistic, honey
no one can be that bad
you're perfectly normal
you're making it up
you're so conceited, gorgeous
loving boys with your toes in the water
when they're up to their necks in you
you're making it up
you think too much, darling
no one analyzes this the way you do
no one cares as much as you do
but oh, what if they did?
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
My inner fears
Are driving my tears
There’s got to be a right way to go
Do I choose left or turn right?
(the future would be good to know…)
If I go with the path of my heart
Ignoring thoughts of my mind
Results could be drastic
Or as minor as being unkind
My head analyzes each step
Pondering possibilities of every move I’d make
Logical reasoning ignoring emotions?
How much more can I take?
Should I close my eyes
Spin round and round?
Should I scream into the wind?
Or wait for something profound?
Each interchange of thought and emotion
Could bring about happiness or wrath
Each day new thoughts new emotion
Each day a new path
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 5:32 AM UTC
"I am accustomed to pain!"
shouts Frankenstein's monster.
Van Helsing desperately pleading to pull him out
of his desperate, life controlling despair.
The life parallels to this scene I have were already highlighted,
in a previous poem, showing my friends to be quite heroic.
Just like the monster portrayed in this movie,
I also struggle with finding hope within the bleak hand I've been dealt.
"How could the world go back when so much bad has happened?"
Sam asks Frodo, referring to the raging war.
He continues, "A new day will come,
when the sun shines it will shine brighter."
How is it, in a world surrounded by death and destruction,
that someone can look to the potential future and find promise?
The optimism stands out, especially considered the source.
Hobbits weren't looked to as leaders, but in this moment, Sam was one.
"I know you play msterious to avoid getting hurt."
psycho-analyzes Scott Pilgrim, showing talent outside of guitar-playing.
"I know you have reasons for not talking about your past."
Oh, Scott...don't we all?
Scott shows us bravery is not a required part of the operation,
but merely a deep understanding for those around us.
Showing we can't all just run away like Forrest Gump,
but surround ourselves with people who care.
While I doubt people turn to movies such as
Van Helsing, The Two Towers, and S.P. vs the World for advice
but I find it foolish to turn down free wisdom falling into my lap.
So you shouldn't take things at first glance, they're worth considering.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
Why is it that some find love and others don’t?
We visit the exact same places and see the same faces
Yet one will see what the other does not!
Many times all it took - was a glance or a stray look.
Maybe! It is a feeling, a tingling sensation
That will start a lifelong creation.
Yet love may come by chance to create the perfect romance.
How did you meet your loved one? Were you searching or was it by chance.
Only you can answer that, and can you recall how it started it all?
OOOH! The fond memory of when love was at its peak
It is the feeling that you will forever keep!
Do you remember the first kiss, the first embrace?
And when your heart began to race.
The love that you saw in one another s eyes
And how you stayed hypnotized.
I know it starts different for a guy than a girl
Because for the guy it starts, off as a whirl.
The girl sees beyond that whirl or fling because she analyzes everything.
She will take the steps and lead the way
And from that moment on the guys must pray
That he has the strength to get away but in his heart, he wants to stay.
YOU’RE HOOKED !
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Walk in the room with small heels that pump-up that goddess spirit.
As she walk with pure grace, pure light, pure energy, but carry a blade and shield.
Is she a warrior or is she a wife? Could she be her? Men stare, women stare, while her loving spirit pulls her energy captivating entire desires, hopes, and dreams.
But who do she choose? No one as her prince will present himself as the light will shine brighter than white. Drawn by coincidence or purpose, living in a dream analyzing all abundance spitting out emotions, desires, dreams, religion, death, aliens, energy, spirits, life, and God.
Struck by love whom analyzes all wants and desires instead of analyzing self creating more desires, abundance.
Balanced with a scale through life judging decisions trapped in a road of fog but still succeeding, thus purpose.
As the road that I began, the fog began to lift,
as I saw a bright light approaching towards me as I thought,
is it the end,
yet a voice spoken,
no my child this is only the beginning of the beginning as you are eternal light activating every kindred spirit's light,
that the ghost you are showing the past,
present,
and the future
towards all hope and desire that the faith you traveled is yet the most magnificent journey to travel.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
Knuckles white,
Bared teeth that clack together with every barked out, growled out insult.
Black eyes that show nothing but cold ferocity,
And your tears reflected in the churning, opaque surface.
Red lips, curled over teeth that are too light,
And a tongue that's too sharp.
The silver tongued flattery is gone, any sense of mercy or humanity within her words is gone.
She's throwing insults,
And they're pointed but not full of curse words.
Things like,
"Your useless daddy issues and ability to use people to give you a sense of self worth makes you even more pathetic than I previously had thought,"
Or
"How emotionally unstable and black heart'd do you have to be to lie through your teeth and attempt at wounding people worlds smarter than you are, you sick freak?"
Something else about crying wolf and worthless worms.
She analyzes people to dehumanize them.
You're sickened by her words and ability to be so cruel,
And the hot rage boiling inside her makes you feel queasy,
So you slam the door and lock it,
Locking her away.
She wasn't talking about you,
But she is you,
And that scares you more
Than you're sickened by the people she was talking about.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 4:42 PM UTC
*history repeats its childhood
and dwells on its faults
in need of psychotherapy
it analyzes its insecurities
and cannot bear to be told what to do
it finds freedom in repetition
like a machine gun against the cold
streams of ****** victims
immediate and visceral
silence overcame our blankets
and wrapped us up in fear
our guardians whispered warnings
that we could never hear*
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC