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"dehydrating" poems
My heart bears an unfamiliar rhythm, Restricted, out of key, tone and voice Silent but still heavily felt Craving the glimpse of your presence Absence makes the heart grow fonder and fonder and fonder Craving a presence I cannot feel but only dream Holding on to an idea, a wish, a memory An ocean dehydrating inside of me for reality to occur But still my vision of you is blurred Because an idea seems more real than any reality I create heightened pieces of you in my heart Yet my mind is not fooled but can clearly see That You are just an imagination of my desires And in reality you are nothing more than a simple acquaintance Not suitable for even the smallest measure of love from my soul Yet it's not love I feel but passion Not you but elements of you Yet the battle between my heart and brain Make my feelings harder to comprehend Absence makes the heart grow fonder and fonder...
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
Absence makes the heart grow Fonder
they want me to be serious, to take it seriously. To look at sunrises calmly and seize coals and watch over red-blooded, man-fueled wars about bravado, integrity, and land. To look at money, a simple representation of labor, and see what it drives other to do, to do for me. to crush cigarettes and testicles under my boots, to crawl through mud and barbed wire, smiling with grit in my grimace salt rolling, sweaty brows twisted locks of dark hair tobacco-brown spit, ground and filthy, caked in mud teeth bared like an animal white eyeteeth crunching **Scorching earth where my feet touch down. A cigarette put out on a tongue. No more talking.** They want me to see and that, in the dark of the night, in the light of the day, when the sun rises and sets, there is pain, always, elsewhere and everywhere. So I will not tarry or joke or be frivolous with the battered souls of others and to think, to think about applying anything I know, to run along with the vigorous social constructs they ask me to dissect and then revolutionize, because I am young, and I will sprint faster, against accusations, and only briefly. They want me to look at the world like a runner looks at the red track, with their toes and sinews coiled as hard as steel, a pinnacle of human at the height of athleticism and possess the ruthlessness of a rabid dog drool rushed into foam and mad from dehydrating, my brain swelling with my hormone driven red, hazy, athletic rage, gunning my ambition for some organization. No. I will fight, yes, but I will not fight for a name on a card, shield, or building. I will fight for the sake of fighting because I am contentious and I am wrong. I side against hero and villain, because I am the ambiguity, that languishes, resides in no-man's land, antagonizing both. Being disliked in purgatory is sometimes more easy than chomping at the bit, for blood and the power of cracking a black bull whip, so I can avoid this terrible avarice and corrupting beauty that comes with working hard, especially for the greatness                         that I did not ask                                        to be ****** upon me, while I wished to remain enigmatic.
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Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
wry and bitter smile (stoic though)
they want me to be serious, to take it seriously. To look at sunrises calmly and seize coals and watch over red-blooded, man-fueled wars about bravado, integrity, and land. To look at money, a simple representation of labor, and see what it drives other to do, to do for me. to crush cigarettes and testicles under my boots, to crawl through mud and barbed wire, smiling with grit in my grimace salt rolling, sweaty brows twisted locks of dark hair tobacco-brown spit, ground and filthy, caked in mud teeth bared like an animal white eyeteeth crunching **Scorching earth where my feet touch down. A cigarette put out on a tongue. No more talking.** They want me to see and that, in the dark of the night, in the light of the day, when the sun rises and sets, there is pain, always, elsewhere and everywhere. So I will not tarry or joke or be frivolous with the battered souls of others and to think, to think about applying anything I know, to run along with the vigorous social constructs they ask me to dissect and then revolutionize, because I am young, and I will sprint faster, against accusations, and only briefly. They want me to look at the world like a runner looks at the red track, with their toes and sinews coiled as hard as steel, a pinnacle of human at the height of athleticism and possess the ruthlessness of a rabid dog drool rushed into foam and mad from dehydrating, my brain swelling with my hormone driven red, hazy, athletic rage, gunning my ambition for some organization. No. I will fight, yes, but I will not fight for a name on a card, shield, or building. I will fight for the sake of fighting because I am contentious and I am wrong. I side against hero and villain, because I am the ambiguity, that languishes, resides in no-man's land, antagonizing both. Being disliked in purgatory is sometimes more easy than chomping at the bit, for blood and the power of cracking a black bull whip, so I can avoid this terrible avarice and corrupting beauty that comes with working hard, especially for the greatness                         that I did not ask                                        to be ****** upon me, while I wished to remain enigmatic.
Continue reading...
30
The night is breathing apartment aroma and the drunks are tumbling d o w n w a r d through marina side alleys where the Jamaican trumpeter sharpens the brickwork with clamor brass rifle bullet sounds. I get my depression half price at the supermarket, that man made melancholia/ dehydrating all senses/ gunpowder to a broken barrel. Sleepless for that distant girl explosive! She's moving to the big city, yeah there she goes! To live in a place where many go to die. Mango the sky and ashclouds- autumnal daisy/ center sunshine/ opalescent ecstasy reminding one of Indonesia and Darjeeling balcony evening on the cubist block on Kuta on dreams and nightmares simultaneous (THE PARANOIA OF PARASITES) wet air vapor rain February pain in the July bone! Celebration VOICENOISE passing phantom thru paisley sheet corridor. Life is strange.. the strangeness of days receding via the mattress to time and memories and remembering the happenings of ceremonies this year past year CAVALCADE! SPECTACULAR STARLIGHT! OVERVIEW THE FIELD OF TENTS AND LOVERS! Life is an unrecognizable chameleon T R A N S M U T E to some other color iridescent (Where do I go? where do I go?) Say by December the name of my Valentine by boardwalk boreal and I recall the current Summersun pearl/red beautiful and beating (BEDAZZLED LIKE THE HEART)
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
Parade
You know things are dire When you study the Internet and buy an air fryer A material abduction That comes in a large box with no instruction You search in vain for something to cook Struggling on YouTube, you make that look Of someone lost in absolution consumption No sense of normal behaviour resumption With social top trump psychology We debate 'extra crisp' technology Creating new food mashups from hell What comes out of the sliding drawer no-one can tell After dehydrating decent food You may find you need to do some good Switch off that new fire And bin your air fryer
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Oct 11, 2022
Oct 11, 2022 at 5:04 PM UTC
Air Fryer
Eyes I'm sorry for forcing you to endure such demanding labor For flooding your irrigation gates with salty tides of woeful cries For impairing your vision as loneliness takes human form and riverwalks across your irises Please, forgive me Mind I'm sorry for causing you to overthink constantly For saturating your fields of knowledge with dangerous negative thoughts For bullying you with these words and questioning your sanity Please, forgive me Heart I'm sorry for bruising and blackening your core For halting the flow of electric passion between your chambers and preventing your ability to attach with the strings of another For fueling your disappointment over and over again, yet you still exhaustingly pump and beat for me Please, forgive me Soul I'm sorry for draining the waters from your wells of hope For leaving you hollow, I can hear your echoes of misery For dehydrating you of joy and penetrating your walls with shards of dejection, I can feel you slowly dying inside of me Please, forgive me You You've created a villain of despair Who forges anger and depression upon himself You've given me the tools to destroy my body from the inside out Yet, my body is still running on the reserves of our recycled love So just come to me, and tell me you're sorry Please, I want to forgive you
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
Forgiveness
When your arms were wrapped around me, I felt more beautiful, With every kiss upon my lips, I slowly became whole. You completed me, and I didn't even know, Until one day you weren't there and the flowers within my soul ceased to bloom, And suddenly, the emptiness was all I felt when I stepped inside a room, When fall came around, how everything began to change, But somehow, I seemed to remain the same, Then winter brought a chill so cold, I longed for the shelter which came from your embrace, And your eyes that brought warmth and made my heart race, Spring's hopeful promise to make things new, yet the newness was still tainted with memories of missing you, Summer snuck up on me, The sun wiped the tears from my cheeks, Dehydrating my body, reminding me of your love for which I am so thirsty for, The salty water greeted my toes as I stood upon the shore, Reminding me that no tide can ever wash away the pain that rested beneath my core, Here's to wishful thinking, but I hope that one day you'll look back and regret leaving, And realize that I was, in fact, everything you wanted and more.
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May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
Lonely Seasons
This is the first breath that I've ever cared about. Please abandon your everlasting doubt. We've opened up a magic portal through an alien route, exposing you to my internally dying dehydrating drought. I'm like a waning foreign phoenix finding fairness in its contaminated ashes. I still get flashes of post-traumatic emotional rashes, from an abstract haunting nightmare  that I don't care to wear on my not-so-bare chest anymore. Be aware that I don't always do my share, and that I am made of skin that has been known to ware and tear. If this is just Truth or Dare, I don't want to play anymore. Please be fair. Please beware. The snow has suddenly stopped straining my spiraling somber sorrows into silent sirens sounding seasonal surreal suicidal scenes of secret sappy solitude tomorrows. And though the weakening leaves outside are withering, and my feeble frozen bones are quietly quivering; my shivering insides are shyly shifting into brand new hues of brighter blues that are constantly turning into a lighter and mightier muse, like the autumn leaves that heroically live beneath my yearning Red Wing shoes. I'm on a blissful beach of elated snow, burying my feet in what we both know; that our doubt has been put to rest below.
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Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 4:54 AM UTC
Magic Alien
I feel like I'm the grass and You're the rain, because the only time I grow is when skies are gray We both know this is true, that I'm brightest when I'm drenched in You and Now the sun shines and brings the rays, and Your water dries up and the flames will blaze I need to be soaked in You, to stay alive, or else I'll start dying at the roots, I won't survive Could have guessed the wind was all it would take, to turn thick to thin and fog to mist and rid me of my haziness You left too fast and all I ask is give me back my overcast, I get comfort in shade The heat is beating down and random spots are turning brown I'm warm on a summers day but that's never been enough to make me ok I'm dehydrating, with each moment passing, it seems this might be everlasting We used to have the best front yard on the street, then You left, now it's filled with sticks and leaves, and dirt I'm weak and withered You know **** well it hurts and The weeks will pass and the months will turn from the day you let that fire burn In springtime I hope You'll return with a downpour that will quench my thirst
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Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
-A Cloudburst Sun Shower (or) Saturate, Evaporate, Repeat-
I'm your paradise surrounded by a drought. Only you are mesmerized in the sunlight, Unfortunately for you, you are about to die. I can't save you, Because I am a figment of your imagination. I am the desert in disguise. Dehydrating you with my lies.
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Aug 28, 2019
Aug 28, 2019 at 4:24 PM UTC
Paradise
Coffee coffee a delacasy with a tasty dehydrating quality Farmers worked the feilds where there once was a beautiful yield Why the hell is my tongue all pasty whatever cause that was Fuckn tasty Chuck the paper cup, disrupt they all add up bite your plastic shrunken lid lip take it, grind it, its best brewed with a slow drip this thing we speak of, it desires the minds insatiable crazy love fires Black or cream and with a little sugar to some its a dream ya sure theres water or h2o in there but the caffine doesnt discriminate or even care Substance abuse people and nature swinging from a noose
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Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 8:09 PM UTC
Dehydrate me
you should be dehydrating from the sun, not tears wasted on those who have ceased to care
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
IV
Getting crusty round the edges Like a slice of day-old bread From the bottom of my twisted toes To the top of my balding head Dehydrating like a side of beef Jerky tough to chew Not much of me is worth the keep With nothing hanging that is new Eyes that once were crystal clear Now no more than a blur Please speak loud so I can hear The meaning of your every word The lines I blamed on laughter Aren't funny anymore Ask me what's the matter Long ago stopped keeping score You can take this slice of day-old bread Remove most of the mold But when all is done and all is said Man, I'm getting old
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May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 2:27 PM UTC
Getting Old
The things have passed And silent hangovers And anti-freeze cocktails I want to keep it in But there are too many things Dehydrating And the milky sun And we pass each other around Like wet cigarettes And the milky sun Drips on us And we say “uneasy” because we have no time to think of anything better and the silent hangovers and the anti-freeze cocktails and women fishing and kings dying daughters abandoning sons stabbing stabbing stabbing and it will all pass and we only say that because we need to fill up the land the hearts the souls the mouth the body the genitals the claws and then the cat and mouse games and the secret meetings lack.
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Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 9:23 AM UTC
The Day after the Day
I miss heaven then I think about what its for... then I'm watching mucus being influenced by dust, spit celled by detritus on a dry road, a fast dehydrating route between two towns I didn't/don't want to stop in. I know the drunkenness of disbelief: i) bouncing off objects; ii) trying and failing to move a weight; iii) reasoning to a crash test dummy; iv) eating a small portion from an edible bowl; v) knocking up jokes to the disdain of mutes. I don't know what it would have been like to have never heard,    when any words strained me into a pretending that pride could later march into the courts. I couldn't care about tomorrow when I am as convinced as any other resistance-of-the-past, nothing so heroic as martyr, just a bad advertisement for tough meat . this isn't me, of course, I am some nothing, narrating, cool breezes don't remain effectual for my eternity, but this might be a story worth acting in, one where my laugh falls from my skull into my stomach, one where I finally see myself die, if not because I'm an interesting character, but because I made the transition into one: somewhat plausibly. one where the audience had left or never arrived and I was shouting so loudly I hadn't been informed.
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Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
after church.
so I cut myself off your body a salty craving that lasts for two weeks I learn that so much salt is dehydrating when you leave I can taste the caramel in the air and smell the salt elsewhere
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Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
"I don't think we should sleep together anymore"
I diluted a part of myself that I could no longer retrieve until I let myself go in the sun dehydrating the toxic liquid that filled me with so much fantasy
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Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 2:52 AM UTC
Toxic Matters
The brown of harmattan, Dry, windy and dehydrating, But if there be one thing, Peace from the silent, old noisy fan.
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Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC
HARMATTAN BLUES.
Sweat it out, sweat it all out of me, leave me dehydrating on the ground, a lump of dry skin and bones, Vultures not even interested in me as a prize
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Night Sweats
sea of misery fear of dark & dull scrapes from rock blood and blister feel my pulse within waves like a knife to the throat steadily now, don't flinch salts dehydrating beneath the blues lingering evergreens im exhausted yet im screaming
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May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
Alcapulco
there is a piece of literature out there waiting for me to inseminate it. it lies in a gutter somewhere, or in the woods, with no concern for the present. no concern for shelter. it sits, lies, waits, walks and paces and worries, coping with my absense by touching itself into a shuddering cramped pile breathing like a dog chased a car in the sun through the neighborhood then overcome with the smell of the heat from another dog. wet with its own slobber it is pure temptation throbbing at the body and frothing from every hole. its obsession is mindless. drooling on its naked self, dehydrating and dying. so wet with want that if it were to find me it would jump into my healthy hands and slip right through their distracted hold; ******* the air until it hit the ground at my feet, then half consciously ******* my toes. it is muttering my name into a blanket of leaves and trash and squirming with a fever so bright as to bury itself slowly into the soft dirt. drowning in time. giving sick births to an excrement of unformed consonants and concepts. it becomes lines of light enscribed in a holy vacuum as i sit here making love to this- it dies now, in the very same moment that i waste my seed uncaringly on these nice young healthy words only as a tool to help me sleep.
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Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
tired pig
Three is a crowd Alone is a punishment Two is partnership until it’s criminally unbearable Endure... Look at her ; she’s  in love with life Look away ; it’s simply just embarrassing Encouragement Angst Malnourishment It’s a merry go roundabout of battery Look at him ; he has it together Point and laugh ; those sleeves aren’t in fashion Picture this ; A World Unreined Of Thirst A lost and found resolved But then there’s a twist ; We beg back the worst We pup at Murders ***** teats We’ve retreated Shy from salvation Summoned back on the coaxing cluft Of our basic breeders feelings A soul dehydrating salivation
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Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
uncorrective
9 [I love the sensual For me this And love for the sun Has brilliance and beauty] The stars shine with you See you in the day Seize me with light Until I become blind Out of sight Out in the night The moon shines And borrowed your light I feel like burning Body, dehydrating I regret staying Under the menace of the sun
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Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
1/3 completed fragments
Detritus of the drunken night A cig burn in a cushion cover A swollen face from your brother I shouldn't have had that last pint Your wittering is irritating This hangover is dehydrating Blurred thoughts of how we fought You brought up some other girl Indignation  made my head whirl T.V. blaring sports, you out of sorts Outside for a cigarette Both of us shouting, your eyes wet The stumbling, bumbling long walk home Sniping and bickering Neon lights flickering Now your face is set like stone I've got to face your angry brother And your unforgiving mother Detritus of the drunken night My stomach's churning Your eyes are burning Like red hot coals, they sting on sight I'll apologize for what drink's done Then go down the pub for another one
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Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC
Detritus Of The Drunken Night
His eyes, They pour a drink, Dehydrating his pain. His lips They sing a song Relaxing his brain. His nose They smell a scent Of a searing stain. His ears They hear a whistle As he fades in front a train.
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Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
He