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"facetime" poems
I spent last night Crunching numbers 10 Times you led me on 9 Nights we stayed up talking 8 Weeks since you decided I wasn’t worth it 7 Crushed up poems on the floor of my room 6 Outfits thrown aside to make sure I look my best 5 Days I spent trying to get over you 4 Friends that know what we did 3 3 a.m FaceTime calls 2 Coats of mascara 1 Big regret
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Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
Accounting
Hashtag done. Hashtag I give up. Hashtag tired. Hashtag alone. All we ever talk about anymore is hashtags and Instagram and texts and snapchat. I'm done. I miss the face to face contact. The way someone's eyes light up or dim down in reaction to something. I miss the way your hand feels when you place it on mine. I miss your hugs. And I miss your voice. And I'm able to talk about anything with you over a text message, but I'm afraid that you don't want to talk to me, person to person. I like to think that we have a great friendship, but I realize that we don't. You FaceTime and call other people, but you won't do that for me. I try to initiate more conversation than we have, but I feel like you hold back. I pour some of my heart out into a message that I sent and your only response is an emoji. I'm hurt. As childish as it sounds, I'm hurt. I'm broken and I feel like you keep taking pieces of me away. I'm broken and I wish you would actually talk and listen to me instead of typing it out. I miss you because there's no one else and I'm sorry that there isn't. I don't mean to burden you with everything that's wrong, but when you say that you're there for me, I expect you to follow through. I miss you a lot. And I need you to know that. Because you mean so much to me. And I know I don't mean as much to you...
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
Social Communication
We haven't talked in awhile Your voice like silk Bringing a smile with it Something I haven't done for months I talk to you on Twitter The bird a messenger to our secret conversation Every time a white message box pops up Every time I get a notification from you My heart skips a beat For every word you write, every sentence Is worth the couple seconds it takes to read We have a lot in common We both have eating disorders That couldn't be more different We love the same music As we rock out on Facetime And laugh at my shyness and stupidity Yet without social media We would have never met. I would never have smiled. I would never have lived.
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
Social Media
Help I have bad internet connection I can't check the school website. That means I won't know about a test That means I won't study That means I will fail That means I will get bad grades That means I won't get into a good school That means I won't get a good job That means I won't get money That means I won't buy food That means I won't eat That means I will die Help I have bad internet connection I can't get on facebook That means I can't change my status That means I don't take my relationship serious That means he will dump me That means I will be single That means I won't get married That means I will die alone Help I have bad internet connection I can't FaceTime That means people are waiting for me That means I won't show up That means they will get worried That means they might over react That means they could call the police That means they will think I'm missing That means they will look for me That means my family will get scared That means they may start thinking the worst That means they will think I'm dead That means they will be upset That means they will look for my body That means they will find me That means they will realize I'm not dead That means they will be mad at me for scaring them That means they will punish me, stop talking to me, who knows what else. Help I have bad internet connection I can't see any news That means I won't know what's happening That means I will be left out of all the conversations That means I will be an outcast That means I will have no friends That means I will not make any relationships That means I will go through life alone That means I will become a hermit Help I have bad internet connection I can't access the e-library That means no books That means no learning That means not getting any smarter That means not getting into a good school That means not getting a good job That means no money That means no buying food That means no eating That means I will die. Face it! Life revolves around internet! If you have bad internet connection you could die, you couldn't even get on hello poetry *gasp!
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Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
Internet Connection.
Help I have bad internet connection I can't check the school website. That means I won't know about a test That means I won't study That means I will fail That means I will get bad grades That means I won't get into a good school That means I won't get a good job That means I won't get money That means I won't buy food That means I won't eat That means I will die Help I have bad internet connection I can't get on facebook That means I can't change my status That means I don't take my relationship serious That means he will dump me That means I will be single That means I won't get married That means I will die alone Help I have bad internet connection I can't FaceTime That means people are waiting for me That means I won't show up That means they will get worried That means they might over react That means they could call the police That means they will think I'm missing That means they will look for me That means my family will get scared That means they may start thinking the worst That means they will think I'm dead That means they will be upset That means they will look for my body That means they will find me That means they will realize I'm not dead That means they will be mad at me for scaring them That means they will punish me, stop talking to me, who knows what else. Help I have bad internet connection I can't see any news That means I won't know what's happening That means I will be left out of all the conversations That means I will be an outcast That means I will have no friends That means I will not make any relationships That means I will go through life alone That means I will become a hermit Help I have bad internet connection I can't access the e-library That means no books That means no learning That means not getting any smarter That means not getting into a good school That means not getting a good job That means no money That means no buying food That means no eating That means I will die. Face it! Life revolves around internet! If you have bad internet connection you could die, you couldn't even get on hello poetry *gasp!
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Digitized is Everything My Love I see in Facebook My Love I meet in Whatsapp My Love I greet in FaceTime My Love I connect in Twitter We are too far But we feel like we were beside each other Actually this digital connectivity is boon for some instance And a ban for another instance which actually Stopping us connecting naturally
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Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
920. Digitized Love
My bf works in Geneva, Switzerland. I go to school in New Haven. We Facetime a lot - but it’s not ideal. “I wanted to tell you, that it’s been nice.” I told him somberly. “What do you mean?” He asked after a moment. “Well,” I began, “You know how I like to go down to the harbor and watch the ocean?” “Yeah,” he answered. “Well, I was down there this evening and the sun plunged into the sea and it got dark. I think we’re all going to die.” “Anais, you’re on the east coast,” he reported. “That’s true,” I confirmed (New York’s on the east coast and it’s 60 miles away). “The sun rises in the east and sets in the west.” He explained. “ocean sunsets only happen on the west coast.” “Really?’ I said, flabbergasted, “I never noticed that.” “Yeah,” he reiterated. “I have a confession,” I admitted, sighing. “What’s that?” He enquired. “I made it up, the sun and sea thing,” I admitted. “For real?” He followed up. “Yeah,” I said. “Why?” he asked. “Nothing happens, when you’re not here,” I disclosed, “It’s SO dull, I’m dull, I’m afraid of underwhelming you.” “We’re going to die someday,” he assured me, consolingly. . . songs for this: I Can’t Remember Love by Anna Hauss So In Love by k.d. lang It’s the End of the world as we know it by REM The end of the world by Skeeter Davis
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Apr 20, 2024
Apr 20, 2024 at 9:44 PM UTC
then the sun plunged into the sea
We all know this friend They are the friend that if you need anything They are right there They are the friend that stays up until 3:00 am to listen to your sobs and cry's They are the friend who always puts that smiling fac- mask I bet you thought I was going to put face Oh no no no The therapist friend is the one who is truly unhappy They are the friend who feels so alone when they need help the most They are the friend who cry's right after they get off those hour long facetime calls They are the friend who is screaming out for help but you cant hear it They are now going to put that mask back on and say... "Welcome! I am that therapist friend. What seems to be the problem?"
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Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 3:57 PM UTC
Therapist Friend
Siri. Type this: More memories. Less Facebook moments. Let’s go back to concerts filled with lighters — warm seas of flame, instead of stadiums filled with phones and waves of blue light that keeps us from sleeping at night. Our phones, it looks like we’re all telling one big ghost story around the campfire — our faces lit up from underneath in the dark. It’s like a part of our bodies, a mollusk’s shell, That we won’t outgrow until it’s torn from us and we’re eaten, still fresh. It’s like we call it Facetime because that’s what we need, but don’t have. Since when is being viral a good thing? Viral means an infectious disease. Viral Viral Viral. I feel like I need a ****** just to surf the web. I honestly can’t have a conversation with a person without toying at my phone anymore. We post our beautiful stories on snapchat, the colorful blurred days of our lives, and let it slip away into the ether. Your stories are still interesting even after 24 hours. Seeing that red notification, knowing I’m special, I’m wanted, I’m special. when it turns out to be another Farmville invite. Talk about crutches. Nitze called religion a crutch but at least religion helps people walk. Phones make people run into things. I wonder if the New Messiah will have a social media account. We are so close to just hooking up our phones to traveling robot vehicles and navigating our world from our home. The future’s hangouts will be phones arranged in a circle on a table, all on Facetime, as we take shots, in our rooms alone. Jerry smiles because he isn’t wearing pants but no one can tell. Our phones only show what’s on top. Please share this poem, by the way. For videos of my reading my poems, visit https://mateilatte.wordpress.com/content/poetry/
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Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
the #ViralPoem
Siri. Type this: More memories. Less Facebook moments. Let’s go back to concerts filled with lighters — warm seas of flame, instead of stadiums filled with phones and waves of blue light that keeps us from sleeping at night. Our phones, it looks like we’re all telling one big ghost story around the campfire — our faces lit up from underneath in the dark. It’s like a part of our bodies, a mollusk’s shell, That we won’t outgrow until it’s torn from us and we’re eaten, still fresh. It’s like we call it Facetime because that’s what we need, but don’t have. Since when is being viral a good thing? Viral means an infectious disease. Viral Viral Viral. I feel like I need a ****** just to surf the web. I honestly can’t have a conversation with a person without toying at my phone anymore. We post our beautiful stories on snapchat, the colorful blurred days of our lives, and let it slip away into the ether. Your stories are still interesting even after 24 hours. Seeing that red notification, knowing I’m special, I’m wanted, I’m special. when it turns out to be another Farmville invite. Talk about crutches. Nitze called religion a crutch but at least religion helps people walk. Phones make people run into things. I wonder if the New Messiah will have a social media account. We are so close to just hooking up our phones to traveling robot vehicles and navigating our world from our home. The future’s hangouts will be phones arranged in a circle on a table, all on Facetime, as we take shots, in our rooms alone. Jerry smiles because he isn’t wearing pants but no one can tell. Our phones only show what’s on top. Please share this poem, by the way. For videos of my reading my poems, visit https://mateilatte.wordpress.com/content/poetry/
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TW : eating disorder, suicide attempt, abuse In my phone There’s a contact name that’s just swear words The occasional bad bad word that I can say in therapy but don’t in public And it’s my mom’s contact name I changed it after our 1millionth fight Right before I left for uni Because she called me fat And at the time I was five months sober of my eating disorder Maybe sober isn’t the right word but whatever And my brain snaps I scream and cry She screams back at me I call her “fat” back because I’m mad And I spend the night sobbing I even call my abusive dad who chose to leave therapy because he thinks he’s getting better He hasn’t left his girlfriend who restricted food from me yet so, are you sure Dad? And he tries the whole facetime while I audibly cry to not sound mean about her And I thank him for trying in my head Because my mom only refers to him as slurs or Satan I eat the entire cake she got me in the fridge the next day Before even noon I feel bad immediately after but at least she can’t have any And then I’m suddenly jealous that she didn’t have any So no weight gain I drink two cups of iced coffee with that extra calorie Starbucks syrup And then my sister gets me Popeyes She gets me this after yelling at our mother Because we don’t really talk that much openly But we both have our own scars from her words Mine developed into eating disorders, cuts on my legs, and just general mental illness Hers just developed into being a rock solid wall When my mom comes home and sees me eating She takes a bite
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Aug 20, 2022
Aug 20, 2022 at 11:07 AM UTC
My Mom
TW : eating disorder, suicide attempt, abuse In my phone There’s a contact name that’s just swear words The occasional bad bad word that I can say in therapy but don’t in public And it’s my mom’s contact name I changed it after our 1millionth fight Right before I left for uni Because she called me fat And at the time I was five months sober of my eating disorder Maybe sober isn’t the right word but whatever And my brain snaps I scream and cry She screams back at me I call her “fat” back because I’m mad And I spend the night sobbing I even call my abusive dad who chose to leave therapy because he thinks he’s getting better He hasn’t left his girlfriend who restricted food from me yet so, are you sure Dad? And he tries the whole facetime while I audibly cry to not sound mean about her And I thank him for trying in my head Because my mom only refers to him as slurs or Satan I eat the entire cake she got me in the fridge the next day Before even noon I feel bad immediately after but at least she can’t have any And then I’m suddenly jealous that she didn’t have any So no weight gain I drink two cups of iced coffee with that extra calorie Starbucks syrup And then my sister gets me Popeyes She gets me this after yelling at our mother Because we don’t really talk that much openly But we both have our own scars from her words Mine developed into eating disorders, cuts on my legs, and just general mental illness Hers just developed into being a rock solid wall When my mom comes home and sees me eating She takes a bite
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Remember The day we first met and you fell asleep holding me. Remember The day you tried to ask me on a date and I got scared and invited my bestfriend. Remember The night we fell asleep in the back of your stepdads truck. Remember When we spent an entire night sending each other Avatar the Last Airbender pickup lines. Remember Our first kiss and how perfect it was. Remember All those nights we slept on FaceTime. Remember All those nights we spent watching Netflix, curled up in each others arms. Remember All the times we use to wrestle and you'd pin me against you. Remember All those drives we'd take holding hands, music blaring. Remember All the inside jokes we had. All the different names we would have for things. Remember How we always got butterflies. Remember How we looked at each other like there was no one else in the world. Remember The way our skin felt pressed against each other. Remember The night you painted my nails. Remember The day I rode my bike across town just because you wanted me there. I remember all of it. I remember every memory. Every feeling. I close my eyes and remember it like it is still happening. So tell me... Do you still remember when?
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
Do You Still...
Just be there But he always is out trying to save the **** world Maybe he forgets I need help sometimes too Superman has these dumb *** lapses in judgment that make him think sometimes even though we're in separate states I'm perfectly fine not hearing from him. He doesn't seem to understand that's all I have. We got closest through these **** mobile phones always rushing to respond, FaceTime, call, and listen. Now it's like pulling teeth just trying to have a conversation worth having. I've forgotten what his voice sounds like, forgotten his ****** expressions. Constantly on edge because now when I see his name pops up I'm so agitated that he still hasn't noticed the problem. Just give me my superman.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Superman
Tears…so many tears after my best friend died. I was 17. Light brown, coarse hair from my puppy snuggled up to me each night. Crumbs from many late-night dinners, coupled with doing homework until the sun peaks through the sleepy darkness. My mom’s old white tennis shoes, falling apart at the seams. Bobby pins. Snoozed alarms. Text messages I didn’t want to say goodnight to. Screams, from that nightmare that felt all too real. Tears…so many tears. The nightlight I kept on ever since then. Books. Stories. Adventures. Gatsby’s blind love. Harry finally defeating his demons. The matching sock I didn’t have time to find. Dust. Lots of dust. The phone call when her grandmother died. My wandering mind dreaming of what the future might hold. Poems, written and read. The dizzy night I told you “stay,” and I let you have what you wanted. Then you told me, “I’m not ready for a girl like you.” Tears…so many tears. My mother’s constant disapproval of me, and my time spent wasted in her hazel eyes. Countless nights I wished you laid with me under my cold lavender sheets. Misplaced earring backings. Baby blue nail polish dripped. Bittersweet dreams of a future with you. My puppy’s hidden treats that he forgot once existed. Phantoms. Monsters. Phone calls and Facetime’s that felt like a moment frozen, but lasted hours. That bright pink Homecoming dress my mother said I looked heavy in. Tears…so many tears. Darkness. Months later when you came back, sleeping peacefully next to me. Forgiveness. Hope. All the boys I thought were worth my time. Love. You. It’s always been you.
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Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC
What You’d Find Buried Under My Bed
Tears…so many tears after my best friend died. I was 17. Light brown, coarse hair from my puppy snuggled up to me each night. Crumbs from many late-night dinners, coupled with doing homework until the sun peaks through the sleepy darkness. My mom’s old white tennis shoes, falling apart at the seams. Bobby pins. Snoozed alarms. Text messages I didn’t want to say goodnight to. Screams, from that nightmare that felt all too real. Tears…so many tears. The nightlight I kept on ever since then. Books. Stories. Adventures. Gatsby’s blind love. Harry finally defeating his demons. The matching sock I didn’t have time to find. Dust. Lots of dust. The phone call when her grandmother died. My wandering mind dreaming of what the future might hold. Poems, written and read. The dizzy night I told you “stay,” and I let you have what you wanted. Then you told me, “I’m not ready for a girl like you.” Tears…so many tears. My mother’s constant disapproval of me, and my time spent wasted in her hazel eyes. Countless nights I wished you laid with me under my cold lavender sheets. Misplaced earring backings. Baby blue nail polish dripped. Bittersweet dreams of a future with you. My puppy’s hidden treats that he forgot once existed. Phantoms. Monsters. Phone calls and Facetime’s that felt like a moment frozen, but lasted hours. That bright pink Homecoming dress my mother said I looked heavy in. Tears…so many tears. Darkness. Months later when you came back, sleeping peacefully next to me. Forgiveness. Hope. All the boys I thought were worth my time. Love. You. It’s always been you.
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Dotty was a beautifully coloured dragonfly with four wings And a  long slender body, She was made by Evelyn on the coldest day of the year When the ground lay under two inches of snow And a southerly wind blew flurry flakes of whiteness Into faces and down fronts of coats. All the way home Evelyn held on to Dotty Protecting her from the bad weather, Until she was safely on the kitchen table. When you make things your heart wants To share so Evelyn thought of her Grandma Who she knew would just love to see Dotty. Now in 2018 there is FaceTime a magical device Allowing one to speak and see pictures of One's family and friends, So Evelyn asked her daddy if she could Show Dotty to Grandma. Grandma heard this ringing in her room Coming from her iPad. Who can that be she thought and went to see? And there was Evelyn with Dotty " I wanted to show you my dragonfly That I made at playgroup this morning". Well Dotty was beautiful with her painted wings And Evelyn flew her round the room for Grandma to see. This made Grandma so happy and they both laughed And talked and then Evelyn showed her Bagpus on her Own iPad and Grandma and Evelyn both sang The mice song. It was only a short call and soon time to say goodbye Evelyn said "you have made me very happy " And Grandma smiled in her heart all day. Love Mary ***
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Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 10:02 AM UTC
Dotty the Dragonfly
See see Papa Trench Bottom dig in the mines happily, laugh ha ha happily and drink at night and hear him snore before the day happy happy Papa Trench Bottom he he he he he ha ha happy happy at home and at work See see Mama Big Bottom she she she he he ha ha happy Dance happily Cook with joy toss with levity and puts dishes aplenty on the table for all in the family to eat and be merry See see Teenage Tough Dude he he he happily walks in the streets Cool at school Very Pop with the babes and eating lots at home, with gravity very serious in look, sparse in his words but loves his mom, dad and sis deep deep within, ha ha happily happily Happy Happy Teenage Cool Dude And see Sister Barbie Doll Pretty Curls and dimples and cute smiles all Happy hours in the ha ha bathroom many more hours texting and chatting and lots and lots of FaceTime Happy happy walking **** all the way to work and chirping all day like a Paradise Bird at work at the Rainbow Fast Food Outlet happy happy talking talking all workday Ah See Happy happy he he he she she she happy happy Family Trench Bottom family he he he and she she she all day and night Happy happy Trench Bottoms Happy happy he he ha ha Happy Family always
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Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
Ha Ha Ha Happy Family
I needn't wait until dark For the killer to stalk, But I'll unplug my fridge, Turn off the TV, I won't use FaceTime Or socialize on FB. My cell screen is dark, No Snapchat or Podcast, Or Instagram and Vimeo. The Cloud has been compromised; In short, disconnect, For the killer's inside, And knows what to expect.
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Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 9:59 AM UTC
The Killer's Already Inside
I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast while my father built me a bassinet of series circuits with high, motherboard bars. I've got that artificial baby glow. But Mom put my ****** on Facebook at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended (forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months, but I want my downgrade now 'cause all I get are social invite excuses from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack our lives into little boxes that we're not even allowed to open. We drink to technology, keep our lazy eyes on our news feeds, and recycle ideas like their owners would even want to see what we've done to them. We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves with mangled Robert Frost stanzas. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue." Reblog, revine, retweet, FaceTime. Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn. White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden, and write John ******** or Tom Whatever. We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks? S    B          U               X B        S The cooler's too ****** music's too shy, and the sugar, no, not just the sugar. THE PEOPLE are too artificial. The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing on has pencil lead, sock lint, and receipt shred lapel pins. Even corporations play dress-up. But what happens when Y2K kicks in tomorrow? Lives will be lost even before the missiles **** us. And the planes that drop from the sky won't even come close to when the bough breaks your little girl's heart, baby, because your phone can't raise her anymore, so you have to. And based on your search history, tweets, and recorded dreams, she's better off in the warm embrace of a hard drive.
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Y2K Kicks in Tomorrow
I suckled my mother's Bluetooth breast while my father built me a bassinet of series circuits with high, motherboard bars. I've got that artificial baby glow. But Mom put my ****** on Facebook at four weeks and I still haven't re-friended (forgiven) her. My upgrade's in nine months, but I want my downgrade now 'cause all I get are social invite excuses from Facebook fuckfaces. We pack our lives into little boxes that we're not even allowed to open. We drink to technology, keep our lazy eyes on our news feeds, and recycle ideas like their owners would even want to see what we've done to them. We misquote Confucius and credit ourselves with mangled Robert Frost stanzas. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I think it's awesome that Pepsi used to be blue." Reblog, revine, retweet, FaceTime. Folding chair fold-out on someone's lawn. White-out Yeats, Keats, Byron, and Auden, and write John ******** or Tom Whatever. We're caught in the chicken wire of an LCD fruit basket so neat, orderly, and brushed aluminum. How can people write in Starbucks? S    B          U               X B        S The cooler's too ****** music's too shy, and the sugar, no, not just the sugar. THE PEOPLE are too artificial. The carpet-suit inlay I'm standing on has pencil lead, sock lint, and receipt shred lapel pins. Even corporations play dress-up. But what happens when Y2K kicks in tomorrow? Lives will be lost even before the missiles **** us. And the planes that drop from the sky won't even come close to when the bough breaks your little girl's heart, baby, because your phone can't raise her anymore, so you have to. And based on your search history, tweets, and recorded dreams, she's better off in the warm embrace of a hard drive.
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What if the fairy tales happened today? Would they still live Happily Ever After? What if Belle asked the magic mirror to show her the Beast and when it did it revealed that he wasn't there alone? What if Jasmine found out that she wasn't the only one Aladdin was taking for a ride on his magic carpet? What if Ariel checked Eric's phone and discovered Facebook messages which proved he wasn't over Ursula? What if Tiana learned that Naveen was still a slimy frog, catching anything he could with his tongue? What if Snow White wasn't the only who the Prince was Charming? Following and charming as many princesses as he could on Twitter! What if Sleeping Beauty woke up to find Prince Philip Tindering while she slept!? What if Mulan found out that all Li Shang really wanted was to come over for nothing more than "Netflix and Chill"!? What if Pocahontas kept in touch with John Smith through snapchat and all he wanted were photos of her wearing nothing but the colours of the wind!? What if Rapunzel was left in the tower because Flynn Rider wasn't bothered to climb the tower, suggested they FaceTime instead!? What if Cinderella discovered dancing at ***** was just a one time thing? That her happily ever after was just cooking and cleaning for the Prince in a bigger castle!? What if living Happily Ever After is as old as the fairy tales that created it!?
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Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
When Fairytales become Nightmares
there's this theory, my mom once told me, that liars are always reincarnated as dogs i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately and i've also started counting time in dog years according to such, it's been about two long dog decades i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you (you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through) and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try- so, how many poems do you think i have to write for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?
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Feb 28, 2024
Feb 28, 2024 at 1:03 AM UTC
grief (in dog years)
my mom called, i cried by the dhall, on facetime been thinking about how lucky we are to be alive even if to deal with mornings and swollen eyes even if dad's always on the night shift, even with this big rift caused by the distance and the lack of time just because we made out once doesn't mean you're mine i got glimpses of a pink top, my blanket of a jacket i bet it would look classier if you were wearing it but you're distant and cold and partying is getting old i'm forever out of polaroid film and cheap distractions so i took an amtrak home, straight from south station the flight back to boston was short but still exhausting and when i walk home alone, the silence is unsettling seems we're both better than i thought at method acting
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Feb 28, 2024
Feb 28, 2024 at 1:21 AM UTC
late july messiness
Even if we are far away I will never forget you idiot, I will always call you,facetime, skype any social **** will make! But please you don't forget me
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
Friend
A guide to being 5 feet tall, 100 pounds and taking three tequila shots. Take selfies with people you know and people you don’t. Hug people who don’t acknowledge you when they’re sober. Scream names over and over until they give you attention. Facetime your best friend but because of your location you cannot hear a thing they say so the conversation consists of you screaming at your phone. And don’t forget to text your ex. But tonight will be special because when you ask for a ride home he will say yes. But it’s not that simple before you go you must stand outside and scream and chase your friends, trying to stop them from calling their exes. And yell at a guy for not treating his girlfriend right. Next you must make a stop at the local sandwich place. Where you will fall on your way to the bathroom to throw up. Your ex will have to carry you out to his car. And when he tries to drop you off you refuse to go anywhere unless it’s home with him. You lay in his bed and when he tells you he is going to sleep on the couch you cry and beg him to stay. He agrees but doesn’t stay long enough for you to fall and you feel the kiss he plants on your forehead before he goes. You will wake up at 7am and leave tears for him on his pillow case. You will decide to slip out and walk home, but as you put on your shoes you let yourself drink him in one last time because   he is the most beautiful when he sleeps, and unaware. Then you leave. You walk home on a November morning after the first snowfall, never tripping on your thoughts, on a walk of dignity for being the one to leave this time. When you get home you will hesitate to shower because you know the potential this has to be the last time waking up with his smell and letting it stay with you all day. You will get a text from him asking why you didn’t let him take you home, but how do you tell him he already has? And that it’s empty now?
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Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Empty Home
A guide to being 5 feet tall, 100 pounds and taking three tequila shots. Take selfies with people you know and people you don’t. Hug people who don’t acknowledge you when they’re sober. Scream names over and over until they give you attention. Facetime your best friend but because of your location you cannot hear a thing they say so the conversation consists of you screaming at your phone. And don’t forget to text your ex. But tonight will be special because when you ask for a ride home he will say yes. But it’s not that simple before you go you must stand outside and scream and chase your friends, trying to stop them from calling their exes. And yell at a guy for not treating his girlfriend right. Next you must make a stop at the local sandwich place. Where you will fall on your way to the bathroom to throw up. Your ex will have to carry you out to his car. And when he tries to drop you off you refuse to go anywhere unless it’s home with him. You lay in his bed and when he tells you he is going to sleep on the couch you cry and beg him to stay. He agrees but doesn’t stay long enough for you to fall and you feel the kiss he plants on your forehead before he goes. You will wake up at 7am and leave tears for him on his pillow case. You will decide to slip out and walk home, but as you put on your shoes you let yourself drink him in one last time because   he is the most beautiful when he sleeps, and unaware. Then you leave. You walk home on a November morning after the first snowfall, never tripping on your thoughts, on a walk of dignity for being the one to leave this time. When you get home you will hesitate to shower because you know the potential this has to be the last time waking up with his smell and letting it stay with you all day. You will get a text from him asking why you didn’t let him take you home, but how do you tell him he already has? And that it’s empty now?
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You are the farthest thing from perfection which must be why I think about you when doing the most mundane things, making coffee or washing laundry, playing guitar or scrolling through tumblr. I look over at my computer screen, the FaceTime call we have open 24/7 (literally), you're biting your nails, intently watching a video and then you look over and smile at me, call me your sweetheart. Taking in the way your lips tighten and curl around your teeth (especially the one shark tooth you don't like) when you grin, the way your eyes crinkle and your hair falls into place around your jawline, You're the farthest thing from perfect, but you're perfect for me.
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Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
You (Part 3)
Social media has led to this world Of anti-social people; Created this void for seeing others Face to face - let's just skype or facetime. It's no wonder so many teens of this Generation think they are depressed, They base all self worth on the number Of likes they get on their selfies. The number of followers and Online "friends", I'm just saying, This is only the beginning. Whenever something happens, Whether good or bad, Everyone gets out their phones to video And post to Youtube - it's a new fad. People text and message each other, They are dating through social media sites, Every instance of their relationship is through media, Half of all break ups occur through text - that aint right. What happened to the days of playing outside, And kids going on play dates while their parents bond, Now the kids I babysit have an iPad, tablet, computer, And an iPhone which is nicer than mine. Did I mention they're only 5, 3, and 7, And they share their electronic toys, But what happened to going to playgrounds To play with other girls and boys? Now they only play online, Because their friends are all online too, They're saying, "Hey man, give me a life", But sadly, this is what their life has become and there's nothing I can do.
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
Anti-Social Media
I thought you'd be different, I told myself as I lie awake at 2am So many different qualities I found in you than I hadn't found in anyone else I was hesitant to talk to you, since you didn't really fit my type But I was so glad I did, because you turned out to be amazing Or so I thought We spoke everyday for hours and hours Never wanting to go to sleep so the conversations would never end I was lucky enough to have been able to hang out with you twice only to be left with a hug and a delay in our messages for a day or two We kept talking as the months went on and eventually I went back to school The texting faded, just like it had with everyone else I felt like history was repeating itself When we did talk sparks flew like they always had and it was back to not wanting to say goodbye And even getting to FaceTime with you made my day, er, my week But now I'm done I'm done being the first to say hi I'm done being the only one to put in the effort Don't complain to me that you were so lonely on Valentine's Day because we could've done something even though I couldn't have been there I honestly thought you'd be the one person I wouldn't be writing about Yet I always wake up at 2 in the morning thinking about you and what we could've been
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
2am
youre here but youre not im not lonely but im alone this is the best i can get i can see your smile, your eyes your beautiful appearance but its still not enough i want you here in my arms the country borders that separate us this facetime call its not close enough
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Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 7:19 AM UTC
loneliness on a facetime call