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"mithridatism" poems
mithridatism the act of poisoning until                       you are no longer                       vulnerable to you   to your heat, heart, humor taking you piece by piece until I can stomach              you                   whole
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Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
the act of
Body; caution tape closed-up casket. Traffic light stuck on yellow. I am caustic, I say,              I am battery acid. I flash all the                           bright colors. Defense mechanism      won’t save me now. My soft victim-skin screams              danger-red against your palms. Force myself into small doses. Become immune,                numb to all of this.                   Finally. Sometimes poison feels a lot like                           I love you; I need this; It’ll be quick. I am child-small again, like the first time,              call this the third. Wish my body asleep                            like the second,                                                      frozen. Start to claim this slow contamination voluntary.                          A part of me. Easier to swallow if I say                                         I wanted it, than to tell them              I never learned. It is so hard to run from something                            you have sat still for your whole life.
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Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 12:14 AM UTC
Mithridatism
So the wind has circled back around Picked up your scent And carried it off again You know, it's funny Because the slightest of breezes Can remind me of it On days where the rain has soaked me From the top of my guilt To the bottom of my soul On days where the moon pulls at my tides From the shoreline of my failures To the abyss your absence has caused Everyone seems all too quick to remind That this empty draught of mistakes Was always just a poison Weak enough to keep me alive But strong enough to **** me slowly And the thought of never refilling my cup From the tap of your bitter bliss Inspires sorrow that I have never known before So now I watch our lightning die Straining to hear one more meager clap of thunder Something, anything To carry your tempest back into this valley Because even the slightest of sparks Is enough to ignite my heart again And set ablaze every forest from east to west But now, our own creation aims to consume us, too
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Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
Mithridatism