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"downing" poems
my first crush committed suicide. i remember the hurt at a young age from chasing him around his living room begging him for a kiss. from my young age i knew i wanted him in my life forever. through his weaves and gagging running around the furniture and up the stairs, losing him sounded foreign then and having lost him now, still feels the same. our fathers drank and our mothers giggled born three months apart our future planned together both saying "i do" uniting us all together. life flew on by us both fighting with ourselves and downing the bottles underneath the bed loaded and silenced family portraits painted in red long life memories all put to rest. only one made it out alive but it's hard to breathe out of us how was it me and you in a little box where a diamond ring should be. my mind keeps wondering when will i stop chasing you then my heart replays every time you turned a corner you looked over your shoulder and how you smiled at me.
0
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
j.h
If Depression was a color, It would be Black As Black as a Midnight Sky. If Depression was a taste It would be just like Tears. If Depression was a feeling It would be as Bad as a Downing But Alive. If Depression was a smell It would be Like choking as a Puff of smoke. If Depression was a sound, It would be As slient as a The dead of night.
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Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
If Depression was...
Rust downing like bayed menstrual blood-- booming steel walls...a rattling sanitation truck. Housewarming...'the rough beast' in fetal orbit...nay-toothed in squalor. Whose gummy roar shall presage the audacity of all places, that call forth houses!!!
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Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC
Nay-toothed
I find it hard to accept The reality of my situation Sat here alone Smoking **** & Playing PlayStation I try to stay hopeful I want to live life to the full Sat here alone Downing ***** & Red bull Maybe it's my honesty Maybe I have bad breath Sat here alone Watching **** & Smoking crystal **** If all of you could see The person I used to be The one not alone The one without a brain injury Now I'm an alien A mind of science fiction Or maybe I'm just a human Who refuses to admit his ADDICTION
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
ADDICTION
I always been the type to put you first Even if it seemed like you ain't deserve it & I know that sometimes I made you hurt But I swear I ain't do it on purpose The problem was that you would hear me But respond based on only what you were feeling Which led to frustration that sparked the Beginning of... the ending (just hear me) I never been the type to give all my love all my love Last time I found love I lost my trust In the heart of a battle I always won (but, but) you know my dumb *** gave all my love Knowin' that the outcome would probably just Be the same old **** that it always was & I fell so hard that I left my guard back where I first met her Anything that was keepin me safe got lost when I read that letter Its like I dove from a rock into a deep *** lake & my feet would touch the The sand at the bottom ice cold But im warm cause im next to the core that deep in love Man I never know that lookin at the stars could be so ****** downing Whys it so **** hard to move on from your past **** & everything be all good some breaks up be easy man I think they all should I said man I think they all should Im like man I think they all should Some breaks up be easy man I think they all should **** it I just lost love I will see you someday I hope maybe one day We can go back to the way The way that it used to be
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Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 1:22 PM UTC
Cold Hearted
Laying on a bed of sand Soft as feather downing You take hold of my hand I am floating, drowning Feeling the blue salt fill me Your breath kisses my eye Taking me down to see Where the turtles fly Amongst rainbow coral And fish, timid and shy Hide amongst a skeletons hull Gossamer clouds waft over Driven by a sun tanned breeze As we lay, cocooned in our ardour Surrounded by quiet seas I can feel the blue salt fill me As your breath kisses my eye And it’s taking me down to see Where the turtles fly Amongst the rainbow coral And see the fish so shy Hiding in a shipwrecked hull
0
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:18 PM UTC
Where the Turtles Fly
i am downing drinks like there is no tomorrow hoping i don't wake
0
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
blame it on the alcohol (haiku)
Whose women these are I think I know. His housefly’s dead on the vignette though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his women pick snowdrops. My little hornpipe is quite queer He stops without a farce or sneer Between the women with their frozen ‘la’s The commonest everyman of the yawl. He gives his harlot beldams his shaft To assure they are his mistresses. The only other soundtrack's the sweat Of easy win from downing flagons. The women are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promenades to keep, And migraines to go before I sleep, And migraines to go before I sleep.
0
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 9:54 PM UTC
Stopping by Women Owned by the Everyman
"she's a simple girl" they say about me judging me upon my plain clothes, and even plainer face "she's a simple girl" they say about me judging me upon my lack of words regarding frivolous topics hair, make-up, who's dating who "she's a simple girl" they say about me judging me upon the fact that i'd rather stay in with a book curled up in bed as opposed to a wild night out downing glasses of God knows what but would they invest the effort and just a little bit of their time to try and understand the complexities of my mind *the ideas the perspectives, the roads less traveled* would they ask me what i am passionate about they would receive not a few words but uncountable volumes full of my greatest dreams and most sacred desires ask me what i love and i will tell you about how deeply i care for the concept of community humanitarianism, how my biggest dream is to bring people together if they saw the thoughts which keep me up all night *how was i created? why was i created? why me? why not? my purpose and philosophy of life? to be, or not to be? who? what? where? why?* if only they tried to look beyond the surface and dive in deep they would realize that i am no shallow pond but a raging deep ocean full of emotion and thought belief, and purpose. i am a simple girl when it comes to matters of materialism i am a simple girl when it comes to speaking my mind i am a simple girl when it comes to my lack of interest in manipulation, mind-games and gossip i am a simple girl until you stop judging me for what you see & begin understanding me for who i am
0
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
"she's a simple girl"
"she's a simple girl" they say about me judging me upon my plain clothes, and even plainer face "she's a simple girl" they say about me judging me upon my lack of words regarding frivolous topics hair, make-up, who's dating who "she's a simple girl" they say about me judging me upon the fact that i'd rather stay in with a book curled up in bed as opposed to a wild night out downing glasses of God knows what but would they invest the effort and just a little bit of their time to try and understand the complexities of my mind *the ideas the perspectives, the roads less traveled* would they ask me what i am passionate about they would receive not a few words but uncountable volumes full of my greatest dreams and most sacred desires ask me what i love and i will tell you about how deeply i care for the concept of community humanitarianism, how my biggest dream is to bring people together if they saw the thoughts which keep me up all night *how was i created? why was i created? why me? why not? my purpose and philosophy of life? to be, or not to be? who? what? where? why?* if only they tried to look beyond the surface and dive in deep they would realize that i am no shallow pond but a raging deep ocean full of emotion and thought belief, and purpose. i am a simple girl when it comes to matters of materialism i am a simple girl when it comes to speaking my mind i am a simple girl when it comes to my lack of interest in manipulation, mind-games and gossip i am a simple girl until you stop judging me for what you see & begin understanding me for who i am
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53
Throughout our childhood, our grandmother would turn to us, in her yellow-lit kitchen, brandishing a rubber spatula or meat tenderizer to warn us against falling to temptation. She’d witnessed too many good people disappear into what she called a consumption of the soul, and as my cousins licked sugary batter off their spoons, no one could have known that one day the candy-coating would melt from their eyes to see their mother for what she had done the last six years that now showed in her trembling hands, glossed vision, and a temperament that splashed into anger, flowed into melancholy as easily as she had found herself downing bleary bubbles at the brim of a precipiced fountain. She was promised her very own message in a bottle, and this keep-sake manifested in cousin Libby’s dreams, floating down a wine river that gushed from the slashes in her mother’s wrists. Somehow I knew these nightmares were born from warm and heady “sleep well”s mumbled from across the darkest of rooms which held so many glass ghouls with names and strengths so real, they even scared my grandmother into silence as she stirred the pecan pie for Easter dinner. She offered to let me lick the spoon clean, but I simply asked for straight sugar instead.
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC
Gluttony
I'm downing endless darkness above and below I'm drowning my body corrupted by the waves I'm drowning a puppet to the ocean deep I'm drowning amongst the wild of the sea I'm drowning water breeches my swollen lungs I'm drowning pain engulfs my whole I'm drowning just like any other day I'm drowning
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
Drowning
It's the music, the alcohol it's my situation won't improve it's vices it's smoking bidis it's coughing from addiction it's having talent but no outlet emotion without expression it's wondering if it's depression it's insecurity it's am I happy it's advice when only I am me it's drinkin brew things I thought i knew downing downers to cheer me up it's a powdered nose secrets no one knows gambling with tomorrow it's waiting tables it's sore shoulders it's scowling behind a smile it's lifting weights it's bad first dates limp from drinking from the bottle it's my ex lady it's lusting it's wanting what's in the past it's a broken car it's public transit it's fearing that I am them it's lovers cheat talk is cheap promises wash off my bed sheets it's my breaking point this broken joint trying to calm my loathing it's the ecstasy that only fixes me for one pill at a time it's the president pay the rent work and school until I'm spent never sleep no cash to eat feed my heart with dreams I never see holding on and letting go walking fast and running slow out of place out of patience job ******* placement alcohol and strippers **** dignity and throwing fits trying not to slit my wrist when everything comes down to this moment and I miss it's insanity everything all around me it's me
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Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 3:20 PM UTC
ATMOSPHERE
I was sitting in the chat, with big dumb Mike he showed us his mask, it was a terrible site Boston Chickie was quiet and subdued , Shelby, Cindy, Katie, Rachel, kind of set the mood Ciggy came into the chat with his well well well And Steve replayed to Ciggy you look like you are from hell Raven had beautiful eyes and lips of wonder Wolf Bracker was downing the sauce like a pirate in plunder Tucker zone he was there as well and Romeo, Ken, Robert and Al we all came out of our shell
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Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
Big dumb Mike
Do you really Blowing smoke into my face In my pocket a razor blade I run my finger against it Pick anything Anything you want Cough Syrup Cigarettes Liquor As if you weren't white trash enough Walk in You are calm and no one cares Pick anything Anything and walk out You own it Some lie to themselves Pseudophilisophical teenage masturbations As if shoving a couple cold beers into your boxer shorts And downing a bottle of robo in the toy section of wal-mart *yeah bro, youv'e totally thrown a wrench into the gears of the corporate machine while we drink these cold cans of beer that were pressed against your ***** Marijuana I wish I was alive for once Then I wouldn't waste my time typing poems on my cellphone While you finger your girlfriend on the couch Sleeping on the floor is great for a while You appreciate a safe place to sleep Something different than the bus seats and train stations I wish the universe didn't Whose idea was this whole life thing anyway Tomorrow you will wake up And stealing DVDs from Best Buy will consume the day I found a little bag of **** And we are kings Of a personnel universe Your girlfriend Is eighteen She still thinks I'm cool Cause my General Education Diploma I hate everything in my life It's all breaking apart The seams I have carefully sewn I need to get out of here I am tired of January Appreciate each moment Appreciate each moment Because the tumor on my brain waits on nobody I cant overcome the sense of meaninglessness It's just the comedown Xanax Cigarettes 1:12 a.m 1:13 a.m Follow my noble eightfold path to oblivion #1 go **** yourself
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Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
klep.. klept.. kleptomania
Do you really Blowing smoke into my face In my pocket a razor blade I run my finger against it Pick anything Anything you want Cough Syrup Cigarettes Liquor As if you weren't white trash enough Walk in You are calm and no one cares Pick anything Anything and walk out You own it Some lie to themselves Pseudophilisophical teenage masturbations As if shoving a couple cold beers into your boxer shorts And downing a bottle of robo in the toy section of wal-mart *yeah bro, youv'e totally thrown a wrench into the gears of the corporate machine while we drink these cold cans of beer that were pressed against your ***** Marijuana I wish I was alive for once Then I wouldn't waste my time typing poems on my cellphone While you finger your girlfriend on the couch Sleeping on the floor is great for a while You appreciate a safe place to sleep Something different than the bus seats and train stations I wish the universe didn't Whose idea was this whole life thing anyway Tomorrow you will wake up And stealing DVDs from Best Buy will consume the day I found a little bag of **** And we are kings Of a personnel universe Your girlfriend Is eighteen She still thinks I'm cool Cause my General Education Diploma I hate everything in my life It's all breaking apart The seams I have carefully sewn I need to get out of here I am tired of January Appreciate each moment Appreciate each moment Because the tumor on my brain waits on nobody I cant overcome the sense of meaninglessness It's just the comedown Xanax Cigarettes 1:12 a.m 1:13 a.m Follow my noble eightfold path to oblivion #1 go **** yourself
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54
for Mr.Cole's "Magic" assignment The Magician Moments of wonder performed with theatrical pazaz A prolonged instance of dumbstruck amazement --- A slight of hand or a glittery distracting explosion creating a captivated audience screaming for *More! More! More! Fool us again Test our I.Qs See if we're sane* --- But to perform... --- I need more money the magician boldly insists Our hands ****** into our pockets, to our wrists --- But wait... Silence... Then a collective gasp There on the table under lock and clasp --- All of our wallets Plain to see And the future money of each baby --- Did we clap? Oh, how we heartily clapped And cheered and laughed like we were handicapped ---   Then the show stopped But we still clapped, stamping our feet As the Magician strode off stage back to 10 Downing Street TA DAAA!
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Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
The Magician
Take a moment, breathe... Inhale that infinity carrying all the words that we speak, both the heavy rock steady deadly second darts aiming for the bullseye painted on our hearts and the artistic gypsy dancing ones like honey whisky giving us a little buzz. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale this surreal reality of fallacy don't matter what's happening on Downing Street or Pennsylvania Ave cause you have more important things to do, like laugh as you let your mind crash watching this game everybody's playing like Minecraft. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale the clenching pain your brain might claim you shoulda kept hold, like the Buddha once said it's like grasping hot coal so blow your dragon breath and stoke our campfire souls. Take a moment, breathe... Inhale the light, feel the warmth sojourn and wander through your veins asunder tappin' 5/4 patterns hi hat snappin rim clappin' rhythm filling all schism within as if a liquid bridge joins sides of a grand canyon. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale and feel the silence... listen to the surrounding serenity whispering aplenty serendipitous magnificence within your heartbeats and breath bereft of distraction. This sacred and holy action is a sacrament as you attune into what's happenin both within, and beyond. Take a moment, breathe... Inhale the heartgasm phantasmagorical adorable world force of all things , the high vibe entirety inspiring the fire within everyone, that sacred holy light igniting the path to your heart basking in ancient ******** laughter where nothing matters and the mind chatter is silenced by the awe inducing lucid compassion of all atoms in union of togetherness. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale and follow your breath into the infinite.
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Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
Follow Your Breath into the Infinite
Take a moment, breathe... Inhale that infinity carrying all the words that we speak, both the heavy rock steady deadly second darts aiming for the bullseye painted on our hearts and the artistic gypsy dancing ones like honey whisky giving us a little buzz. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale this surreal reality of fallacy don't matter what's happening on Downing Street or Pennsylvania Ave cause you have more important things to do, like laugh as you let your mind crash watching this game everybody's playing like Minecraft. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale the clenching pain your brain might claim you shoulda kept hold, like the Buddha once said it's like grasping hot coal so blow your dragon breath and stoke our campfire souls. Take a moment, breathe... Inhale the light, feel the warmth sojourn and wander through your veins asunder tappin' 5/4 patterns hi hat snappin rim clappin' rhythm filling all schism within as if a liquid bridge joins sides of a grand canyon. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale and feel the silence... listen to the surrounding serenity whispering aplenty serendipitous magnificence within your heartbeats and breath bereft of distraction. This sacred and holy action is a sacrament as you attune into what's happenin both within, and beyond. Take a moment, breathe... Inhale the heartgasm phantasmagorical adorable world force of all things , the high vibe entirety inspiring the fire within everyone, that sacred holy light igniting the path to your heart basking in ancient ******** laughter where nothing matters and the mind chatter is silenced by the awe inducing lucid compassion of all atoms in union of togetherness. Take a moment, breathe... Exhale and follow your breath into the infinite.
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47
Laws that get me in trouble. Mostly for public intoxication After wandering aimlessly down Lost streets. Love I never receive; or gift anyone with either. Liquor that takes the pain away If only temporary. Love fades, Feelings change, And the hangover the next morning Reminds me of why I hate myself After downing my first shot of alcohol The night before. So I start drinking again for breakfast And the next morning will play out the same. Endless truths hide behind lies And luck has never been something I’m good at. Life is a game and I can’t ever seem to win, I lost. I lose. I’m losing. Over and over again People call me a lowlife and say I’m going nowhere. Liquor cures the lonesome for the night And men tell me they love me. I believe them. I hate the word “love.”
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
'L' Words
Dining Hall The day that Darwin dies you call me at lunch surrounded by raucous boys who would ridicule your tears Milk You’re downing a glass as I sip my wine Separated by years and words you don’t know Our preference in beverage is the space between us The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack Lullaby redhead croons my fingers bend three at a time choking out two-syllable death trap. Constellating Sandwiched between fresh books spines not yet cracked Secretive soulmates sharing espresso-scented pecks on strawberry lips Hush Hush Hands that aren’t yours hold back my hair dampened tears shed over words you threw shattering showering me with shards of the way you once felt Day Long Marriage Air-conditioned summers bare skin on leather couches your hand resting on blue ruffled ******* Happy New Year Crouching behind closet doors your voice at once comfort and affront I’ll forget the words you say still clutching my phone wishing it was you The Other Emily Purest form of you and me Benadryl-induced delusions refusing sleep exhausted warm and doe-eyed in the glow of your fondness
0
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
Fragments
My sunset begins as yours comes up I sip my wine slowly, knowing you’re downing your whiskey at 6 in the morning The tub of ice cream from last night has melted away So why can’t you? This city of lights blinds me, a nice distraction But I have to run, I have to keep running Because my demons have your beautiful smile And I can’t help but stare with melancholy in my heart My sleepless nights are invaded by your chocolate eyes and velvet lips If I’m honest, that button on my phone taunts me It begs me to call, send a text But I don’t I don’t and I won’t You had let go first and danced our dance with your little noelle O how jolly you must’ve been, staring into her starry eyes So even if I miss you, I won’t So I sip my wine slowly as you down your whiskey at 6 in the morning These devils smile your smile and I look away I move forward, melancholy and anger and hopefulness without you fuelling me I hope you miss me as much as I do. But sometimes I don’t
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Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 8:34 AM UTC
Wine Whiskey, Devils Smile Like You
I am the bobby pins and hair clips you find in corners of your room, on your dresser, or behind your bed. I am the pictures on your wall that I made when I was once manic. I am the crumbs you find in your bed that was once my “three or four nights a week bed” which I used as a table. I am the cafe where we met, and kept meeting. I am day drives to no where. I am the Middletown train station before the movies. I am the mint lotion that keeps the bugs away. I am the notes I would leave you, that found their way on your wall. I am the bandaids. I am that strand of medium length brown hair you will find in your shower I am that guy, from trivia at that other cafe, that I wanted us to be friends with. I am the hands that would unlock your locked pointer finger. I am that key on your key chain. I am the leftover tea that is always too hot for me to drink, and is left near your bed. I am ice cream with CHERRIES, and edamame. I am the sheets on your bed. I am the downing film theater when you needed to feel better. I am New Jersey. I am the reason Netflix recommends Independent dramas with strong female lead. I am the netflix. I am the stain on your mattress. I am the drool on your pillow. I am the sugar in your cabinet above your roomates whiskey. I am all of the groceries and dates I paid for. I am all those pictures of me on your phone which made their way to your computer. I am the light wash boyfriend jeans. I am that bottle of wine that sits with all other bottles, that you see when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen, and out the door. I am the reason you once felt content. I am the reason the corkscrew sits on that stool. I am the reason why your toothbrush is wet, before you use it. I am the two red sharpie marks left on those sheets that I got us. I am mexico. The trip to mexico that could have almost seemed doable. I am the sent of oils which remind you of hippies. I am the shoes left at your door, or the teavana jug of tea in the kitchen right now. I am the fourth of July. I am that pool we never swim in. I am the projected films on the fence. I am the talker, the thought keeper, the fighter, the writer. I am Sensual Amber I am UBE I am my legs on the wall when I dry them. I am the tiny pills on your dresser. I am just someone your next girlfriend will be better than. I am the bobby pins.
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
I Was Part of Your Life
I am the bobby pins and hair clips you find in corners of your room, on your dresser, or behind your bed. I am the pictures on your wall that I made when I was once manic. I am the crumbs you find in your bed that was once my “three or four nights a week bed” which I used as a table. I am the cafe where we met, and kept meeting. I am day drives to no where. I am the Middletown train station before the movies. I am the mint lotion that keeps the bugs away. I am the notes I would leave you, that found their way on your wall. I am the bandaids. I am that strand of medium length brown hair you will find in your shower I am that guy, from trivia at that other cafe, that I wanted us to be friends with. I am the hands that would unlock your locked pointer finger. I am that key on your key chain. I am the leftover tea that is always too hot for me to drink, and is left near your bed. I am ice cream with CHERRIES, and edamame. I am the sheets on your bed. I am the downing film theater when you needed to feel better. I am New Jersey. I am the reason Netflix recommends Independent dramas with strong female lead. I am the netflix. I am the stain on your mattress. I am the drool on your pillow. I am the sugar in your cabinet above your roomates whiskey. I am all of the groceries and dates I paid for. I am all those pictures of me on your phone which made their way to your computer. I am the light wash boyfriend jeans. I am that bottle of wine that sits with all other bottles, that you see when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen, and out the door. I am the reason you once felt content. I am the reason the corkscrew sits on that stool. I am the reason why your toothbrush is wet, before you use it. I am the two red sharpie marks left on those sheets that I got us. I am mexico. The trip to mexico that could have almost seemed doable. I am the sent of oils which remind you of hippies. I am the shoes left at your door, or the teavana jug of tea in the kitchen right now. I am the fourth of July. I am that pool we never swim in. I am the projected films on the fence. I am the talker, the thought keeper, the fighter, the writer. I am Sensual Amber I am UBE I am my legs on the wall when I dry them. I am the tiny pills on your dresser. I am just someone your next girlfriend will be better than. I am the bobby pins.
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41
maybe i leave it all till the last minute because some gritty part of me loves the rapid pulse of pulling back right before the truck turns the corner and blows through the stretch of hot asphalt i was just lying down and burning my skin on. it tears down the road, out of sight, and i’ve still got all my limbs intact. maybe almost failing feels a bit like cheating death, like how breathing feels after a contest of who can hold it longer in the motel pool, or how good a glass of ice-cold water tastes after downing a bag of potato chips. there are plenty of hours in the day. i could wake up at six or sleep in till noon and it wouldn’t make much of a difference. i’m just a girl who loves the taste of scraping by.
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Mar 27, 2021
Mar 27, 2021 at 8:41 AM UTC
chicken
Secret Agent Orange! Secret Agent Orange! oh a gaseous concoction designed for mental blockin! the voices of those men beside me that died are bothering me constantly they keep on screaming why didn't I save them they'll keep haunting ME until I'm in my grave but Secret Agent Orange! Secret Agent Orange! oh a gaseous concoction designed for mental blockin! I keep hearing this odd ticking noise but no one else seems to hear it it's not a child playing with a toy I can't put my finger near it Secret Agent Orange! Secret Agent Orange! oh a gaseous concoction designed for mental blockin! I keep downing pills to end the pain I keep dodging bullets disguised as rain I think I've finally snapped of course thanks to secret agent Orange Secret Agent Orange! Secret Agent Orange! oh a gaseous concoction designed for mental blockin!
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Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Agent Orange
When the hard cider is all gone and the pabst is all stale and the ***** makes you gag and the drug testing doesn't let you smoke **** what do you do? You have a ******* good time with some great people and you pack bowls for them and roll joints for them and hate the frat boys with them. You laugh at the funny jokes and duck call at the bad ones. You smoke too many cigarettes and give away your only lighter. You fall asleep with one of them in your arms. But don't worry, next weekend it will be someone else. This time it was a tenacious blonde who's taking you to prom. Next week it might be the lovely red head who wears his heart on his sleave or it may be the funny Jewish kid who plays beer pong by himself. Maybe it'll be the girl who shows up when all the ***** is gone and sits next to you and lets you hold her close. But never by yourself, they're all to lovely to let that happen. A few days from then you'll go on a walk and bring a few cigarettes and a book but the cigarettes remind you of them and the book reminds you of her so you leave Leaves of Grass in the grass and smoke the cigarettes thinking of the Before. thinking of the Then. Not worrying about the Now and forgetting the When. You sleep like a baby, in the sense that you wake up every few hours and struggle to fall asleep without your mother's breathing to sing a lullaby. She's outside, falling in to old habits, throwing two years into a bottle and downing it. She's smoking her last cigarette so she sneaks into your room careful not to wake your seemingly sleeping Self and digs in your backpack until she finds your cigarettes. In the morning she will magically have those two years back and she will have forgotten those cigarettes she took from you. But you'll throw her empty bottles away before your sister can find them and Understand. And she won't lend you that twenty bucks she said she would because she spent it on two bottles of Jägermeister. And the girl who lives down the street knows none of this because to her it's not real. She only knows that your mother has a two year NA chip and she only knows that you used to Hate yourself. She knows that you like her and she thinks she likes you. And she lets you put your arm around her and she snaps at Satan with you. And you love the lovely red head and you hope he reads this and is happy because he is in one of your ramblings. just as your heart smiles when you find yourself in one of his. however more poetic and sensitive and lovely they are.
0
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
A String of Thoughts and Happenings, Part One.
When the hard cider is all gone and the pabst is all stale and the ***** makes you gag and the drug testing doesn't let you smoke **** what do you do? You have a ******* good time with some great people and you pack bowls for them and roll joints for them and hate the frat boys with them. You laugh at the funny jokes and duck call at the bad ones. You smoke too many cigarettes and give away your only lighter. You fall asleep with one of them in your arms. But don't worry, next weekend it will be someone else. This time it was a tenacious blonde who's taking you to prom. Next week it might be the lovely red head who wears his heart on his sleave or it may be the funny Jewish kid who plays beer pong by himself. Maybe it'll be the girl who shows up when all the ***** is gone and sits next to you and lets you hold her close. But never by yourself, they're all to lovely to let that happen. A few days from then you'll go on a walk and bring a few cigarettes and a book but the cigarettes remind you of them and the book reminds you of her so you leave Leaves of Grass in the grass and smoke the cigarettes thinking of the Before. thinking of the Then. Not worrying about the Now and forgetting the When. You sleep like a baby, in the sense that you wake up every few hours and struggle to fall asleep without your mother's breathing to sing a lullaby. She's outside, falling in to old habits, throwing two years into a bottle and downing it. She's smoking her last cigarette so she sneaks into your room careful not to wake your seemingly sleeping Self and digs in your backpack until she finds your cigarettes. In the morning she will magically have those two years back and she will have forgotten those cigarettes she took from you. But you'll throw her empty bottles away before your sister can find them and Understand. And she won't lend you that twenty bucks she said she would because she spent it on two bottles of Jägermeister. And the girl who lives down the street knows none of this because to her it's not real. She only knows that your mother has a two year NA chip and she only knows that you used to Hate yourself. She knows that you like her and she thinks she likes you. And she lets you put your arm around her and she snaps at Satan with you. And you love the lovely red head and you hope he reads this and is happy because he is in one of your ramblings. just as your heart smiles when you find yourself in one of his. however more poetic and sensitive and lovely they are.
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Please break my heart So I don't have to break yours I'd rather feel all that pain Than be the one to make you endure Please break my heart So I can leave yours intact I'd rather be haunted Than have to hear you react Please break my heart So I can live with my decision I'd rather lose all my tears Than have tears disrupt your vision Please break my heart So I'm not the one serving time Id rather feel completely caged Than be the one to commit this crime Please break my heart So I can make sure you're OK I'd rather lose my voice Than listen to all you might say This request might seem odd I ask for you to do the downing But if we're both stuck in this storm together I'd rather be the one drowning
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Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 11:05 PM UTC
Break My Heart Please