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"roughed" poems
It been a while now I'm back, playing the beat on a track, Lyrically I attack, I'm an M C, So naturally, That's how I react, You might not get my psych, goin ape shyte crazy, chasin these monkeys of my back, I guess opposites still attract. Rapidly rapping raps, spitting facts, I'm what these other cats lack, cut from another cloth, Can't cut'em no slack, This rifts, rat, I'm way better than that I master my craft Like captain kirk taking a bath higher than an aircraft Plotting my path like a hovercraft Fully prepared for the crash. These other guys, think they fly, I just laugh. They get puff up, While I pass by, getting Roughed up, crossing my path Iooking like ironman with this mic in my hand, Feels like I'm hold a staff. Like a titan, I clash. I am the better man, check my clasp, I got a better plan, Better lyrical grasp, I'm so smooth, These other rappers, rap sound like *** I land minds, no gymnastic class my geographic quadgraphics better than a veteran with a can of V8 in his hand Still crazy from the war, tasted the blood of a warrior, Now I'm thirsty for more. I'm dropping bombs like the army core in 94 With more confidence than Al b sure on tour Finding common sense scattered all over the floor Picking up feed back on channel 4 Turning the microphones up, Then slam it to the floor, Cause I don't want to rap anymore, Back and forth I go, It's all a part of the flow, I'm just putting on a show, rhythm book, pinned up, It's a wrap, flow after flow, Pulling up, getting my spins up, The treble and bass doing chin ups, While I'm spitting rhythms galore,
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Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
Rap Artist Freestyle
It been a while now I'm back, playing the beat on a track, Lyrically I attack, I'm an M C, So naturally, That's how I react, You might not get my psych, goin ape shyte crazy, chasin these monkeys of my back, I guess opposites still attract. Rapidly rapping raps, spitting facts, I'm what these other cats lack, cut from another cloth, Can't cut'em no slack, This rifts, rat, I'm way better than that I master my craft Like captain kirk taking a bath higher than an aircraft Plotting my path like a hovercraft Fully prepared for the crash. These other guys, think they fly, I just laugh. They get puff up, While I pass by, getting Roughed up, crossing my path Iooking like ironman with this mic in my hand, Feels like I'm hold a staff. Like a titan, I clash. I am the better man, check my clasp, I got a better plan, Better lyrical grasp, I'm so smooth, These other rappers, rap sound like *** I land minds, no gymnastic class my geographic quadgraphics better than a veteran with a can of V8 in his hand Still crazy from the war, tasted the blood of a warrior, Now I'm thirsty for more. I'm dropping bombs like the army core in 94 With more confidence than Al b sure on tour Finding common sense scattered all over the floor Picking up feed back on channel 4 Turning the microphones up, Then slam it to the floor, Cause I don't want to rap anymore, Back and forth I go, It's all a part of the flow, I'm just putting on a show, rhythm book, pinned up, It's a wrap, flow after flow, Pulling up, getting my spins up, The treble and bass doing chin ups, While I'm spitting rhythms galore,
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57
And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit By the earthed lightening of flock of swans, Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white, Their fully-grown headstrong-looking heads Tucked or cresting or busy underwater. Useless to think you'll park or capture it More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, A hurry through which known and strange things pass As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways And catch the heart off guard and blow it open
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4.3k
Postscript
I feel the humid emotion in our room This room where feelings are felt and magic happens between you and I You, sitting on the edge of our bed..motionless as the air itself.. Your pale colored eyes looking hungrily all over me..craving desire.. I know you want me.. Your layered jet black hair falling over your face in a roughed up lust.. I , sitting across from you on the ground These old cherry glazed wooden floors that are so familiar to us Sitting half undressed,  motionless My hair in a mess, like one of those models posing in a vogue magazine Desperately waiting for something to spark between this still nature My eyes looking you up.. and down … I want you… I crave your touch That euphoric rush you give me when your skin meets mine.. I want to feel your warmth up against my body A feeling I longed to feel for so long Sometimes I wondered if love really exists? Sitting alone, envisioning, and always thinking of you Is love just a movie? It starts, and sadly ends When I see you here in front of me, I deeply reflect. I think no, never. You are the definition of love You are my beautiful distraction The way your eyes lock on mine, they paralyze me, our gaze is cemented I wonder if you feel the same about me The emotions rush through my body as I passionately look at your perfection I the butterfly, and you the lion, such strong complexities to obtain. I leisurely rise and walk towards you following your desirable gaze I get close to your body and touch your gentle face, you let me get into your lap. You make me fear, you I touch you to reassure this is real The love I have wanted for so long. I kiss your soft skin, and bite your lips gently. Your warm body up against mine makes me melt in your arms. We share deep and passionate kisses that I wish would last forever. But forever is too long and I would be a corpse decaying in your arms. This memory will always linger I only want more from you. Take me somewhere we both know we want to go I whisper words into your ear softly Words that haven’t been spoken as long as I could remember. I shudder with life every time your touch embraces my soft skin. I close my eyes and the world spins into a maelstrom of pure bliss a beautiful desire.
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Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 10:30 PM UTC
Beautiful Desire.
I feel the humid emotion in our room This room where feelings are felt and magic happens between you and I You, sitting on the edge of our bed..motionless as the air itself.. Your pale colored eyes looking hungrily all over me..craving desire.. I know you want me.. Your layered jet black hair falling over your face in a roughed up lust.. I , sitting across from you on the ground These old cherry glazed wooden floors that are so familiar to us Sitting half undressed,  motionless My hair in a mess, like one of those models posing in a vogue magazine Desperately waiting for something to spark between this still nature My eyes looking you up.. and down … I want you… I crave your touch That euphoric rush you give me when your skin meets mine.. I want to feel your warmth up against my body A feeling I longed to feel for so long Sometimes I wondered if love really exists? Sitting alone, envisioning, and always thinking of you Is love just a movie? It starts, and sadly ends When I see you here in front of me, I deeply reflect. I think no, never. You are the definition of love You are my beautiful distraction The way your eyes lock on mine, they paralyze me, our gaze is cemented I wonder if you feel the same about me The emotions rush through my body as I passionately look at your perfection I the butterfly, and you the lion, such strong complexities to obtain. I leisurely rise and walk towards you following your desirable gaze I get close to your body and touch your gentle face, you let me get into your lap. You make me fear, you I touch you to reassure this is real The love I have wanted for so long. I kiss your soft skin, and bite your lips gently. Your warm body up against mine makes me melt in your arms. We share deep and passionate kisses that I wish would last forever. But forever is too long and I would be a corpse decaying in your arms. This memory will always linger I only want more from you. Take me somewhere we both know we want to go I whisper words into your ear softly Words that haven’t been spoken as long as I could remember. I shudder with life every time your touch embraces my soft skin. I close my eyes and the world spins into a maelstrom of pure bliss a beautiful desire.
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48
A fatherless woman walks in the street She struts the streets at night She walks without a purpose She seems empty and vague Her wild crazed eyes glance at the blue men A paper bill gives her death Her mother told her daddy loves roughed edged woman That he cherishes there empty hearts She promised she would be loved by daddy
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Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
Daddy loves you
As a child I dabbled in ****** No barbie was safe from the hands of their god Ran hills caked to the toe Roughed terrain with neighborhood boys They called me girl But I felt boy Upon later years I learned: Dress Skirt Bra Flower Amenities accustomed to this body; A bustling street of hormones without a red light Next were ******* Wild & rambling, I soon Mastered the art of shrinking I kissed my first boy & felt it rattle through my bones His hair an ocean in my hands as I rose up to the surface Later I discovered the shared experience of Woman, Shifting about the world as a silly metaphor Carved fingers into mace & metal Ankles clinking busily on a subway platform In learning to fight The young boy dwindled into memory and I couldn’t sense shape anymore Fell in and out of love with woman and man alike, Sinking deep into salt & sand These days I can’t help but wonder if attraction is a mode of defense Or that of love These days I run hills in heels Caked to the toe in color -- c
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Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
Lessons I Learned As A Young Boy
Without legitimate occupancy, Adverse possession is the legal right Of anyone who moves in and maintains A property, so here's the deal. We must Move in to 1600 Penn, The current tenant having broke the lease. The caravan from Guatemala first, Hondurans trudging slowly from the depth. Then the Yemen children not yet murdered, Those with preexisting conditions next, And women whose assaults were ridiculed, Those roughed up by cops and politicians. Losers in the war on drugs, the big house Having far exceeded capacity. The mentally ill, discarded by the Great communicator after he tore The Solar panels off the roof.  This is Anger, not poetic license.  When a Long train of abuses and usurpations Evinces a design to reduce them Under absolute Despotism, it Is their right, it is their duty to throw Off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. Such Has been the patient sufferance of these And such is now the necessity which Constrains them to alter their systems of Government.  And journalists under  fire, If there's room still left in the briefing room, Let facts be submitted to a candid                           World.
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Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
Squatting 1600 Penn
phoebe will remain my hostage until four barrel's hipster overlords hear my plea we're all made of sparkledust and turkish delight and if you hate drinking sonoma butter and having money, my doctor Archmage Overlord said the the "happy drink" element you seek is less like strong coffee and more like the invasion of normandy with turkey slaughter in the background kfc's new turkey flavored chicken tried looking for drugs in the neighborhood but timothy leary, his suave excellency, sheik knight of nee abstained from the devil's coffee with headaches and brain fog anyway, that's why i attacked the complimentary peanuts and russian balloon juice FURIOUS POSTSCRIPT "no one can understand the truth until he drinks of the feline's frothy goodness"
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
Daydreaming Of Getting Roughed Up By An Old Lady Dressed As Darth Vader Drinking Kool Aid
Bottoned to the jaw stone cold face to thaw roughed and raw under the black cloud dress shirt, loud like thunder as a I skirt the jungle that is the tangle of bangles and bands, hanging from wrists followed by hands, twisting to grab clear courage with a flourish Gulp, gulp, gulp another plunge, more lurching spiked up exterior like a sea urchin lurking in the deep, dark ocean Slowly getting dull I'm emptier the more I am full fire slowly flitting out, I'm a dying coal a half burned ember put out by the snow of December just pretending to be fire I'm happy (I'm a liar) but I never tire of drowning lurching, lurching prickly again, I'm a sea urchin
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Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
Sea Urchin
A ride in the metro is always an adventure. Getting coins for departure. Waiting for the trains. with baggage in hands. Roughed up buns. Messed shirts. Oversized sweaters. skinny jeans. converse shoes. Green bag. Glasses on. earphones in. The metro runs like a bird running for rescue of her child in trouble. Blows off all the hair. trying to gather balance,as it almost blew me off. getting in is a mission. for first timers like me, we like to be polite and let others get in and get out before we could. even if it meant you have to wait for another to come in. Getting in was an ACCOMPLISHMENT. with all people staring at you. like you are welcomed as an angel in hell. i manage to get a hold of a handle. surviving till your stop is horrendous. ranging from smelly armpits to foul smelled oiled hair to watching cheap gel used on scanty hair, to seeing weird chick humming songs as if nobody;s watching them lip sync as if they were auditioning fro their life's biggest concert to people staring you like you'll just get ***** to guys reading scandalous and ****** news deeply interested to people who like it when girls fall on them. Its a funny trip. to girls talking about how romantic is their friend's boyfriend to couples getting an excuse to get close to each other and holding hands. Wow. A metro ride is a new adventure altogether. everyday.New people. New places. New experiences. NEW life. NEW everything. I liked it today. for a change. sigh.
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Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
A metro ride.
Raging, staging, contemplating and waiting. Bleeding out seeds from knees that heed not one thing ****** up. Roughed up. Rain Falling from eyes that sting Sing Of heart ache of heart break Starving Silent. Why vent. Holding on to hell They call it life But it's not, it's a well Can you tell From the smell Of broken dreams and torn seams And wrists bleed and ghosts seen Compassion snapping Planes crashing Sea water splashing Waves Waves of pain Of shame Of heart break Of tear stains Insane I am Always will be Always reeling Always sealing Lips closed I know That you know that I'll go Chest snow Chest dust Chest rust Hollow I swallow I try I swallow I breathe I see I bleed Never dying, always crying Always trying always spying Why're you lying Fear You see her But don't see her I don't see her But I see her Happiness Not mine But it's fine I don't mind, to die But why is it so slow Why must I go I don't know All I am is bad All I am is sad I'm so sorry I get mad You don't deserve to be treated bad My heart breaks Millions of pieces Of your name In blood stains This story is all the same I'm just trying to show you That I am insane
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Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
I want to shoot my selfishness in the head, unfortunately it lives in me.
The sign said no entry,it meant me,I know it,I rode on right through it and thought that I knew it all. The policeman in a court date said that I, just would not wait for the lights to go green and he'd seen me do eighty in a thirty mile zone. I was sent to a home for the wayward and flighty,a light sentence upon me,could not believe I was not free. See me, on a saturday and I'm back on the racetrack,known as the M thirty motorway and I'm clocked at a ton by the feds in the lay by,who with sirens mad blaring came a tearing along after me,nicked,apprehended me and again,I could not believe I was not free, I got four months in Dartmoor which get a poor recommendation,it's no picnic park for the youth of this nation,released in September,though it should have been May and soon after that in a 93 Fiat with go faster stripes,I was striped up quite rightly by the boys in blue and tightly, handcuffed and roughed up and locked up again.
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Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
Auto mania
They didn’t like my naked body. My roughed up, pale skin My nestled dark hair on the sides of my armskins My tiny ******* peeking, cusp of womanhood “The naked body isn’t natural, you’ve misunderstood.” Oh okay, so today I’ll put on my miniskirt. “You clearly hold no respect for yourself and are conforming to these Hollywood standards that a woman must look like a **** How un-feminist of yourself.” Oh, then today I’ll put on a dress. “What are you doing? Conforming to patriarchy? To this idea that you must be the epitome of innocence and revel in this idea a girl must be a silly fool?” Fine, today I’Il put on a T-Shirt. “Goodness! No sense of style! No sense of class! No sense of taste! As a woman, you should be trying to look the part of one that is polished!” What a ******* mess. FINE! Maybe I should wear a nun’s dress! “Oh no, today that’s suggestive, a costume for Halloween,” Waxed Shaved Scrubbed Plucked Trimmed Moisturized Sexualized Materialized Labelled Packaged Stored Selling Sold
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Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 10:31 AM UTC
Today
~for yocum~ <> the quality of commitment is not restrained by quantity, nor by size, impressed by nylon sheerest volume, avoirdupois grams, Imperial weight, steeled feathers, immeasurable, one ton tips no true scale into red lined sincerity the necessary respectful silences it requires, the social nearness of geo-distancing, all need prodigal acceptance, like a long lost son, welcomed without questioning we flawed, banded by many weaknesses, poorly confessed, yet, no excuses tendered, to it, long ago surrendered, but understand this, constancy is  not judged by the frequency of our waves, but by the fervor of an undertow of unwavering constancy one that unceasingly rages, beneath superficial, steady waves, and through the thickened, roughed old skin separating atmospheres, I have grasped your heartened essence man, found its depths, blessed it with words, you’ve never fathomed surely you will growl at this, claiming obfuscation, excuses not in your vocabulary, nor should it be, though you require the steady reassurance of frequent brevity so and yet, but and still, I deny your claims, what you think, incorrect, cause I know my heart, and well it kens what lays in thine, what’s in yours is in mine, deep planted, a full nut grove flowering, your complaints, mine as well, all part parceled, with grace accepted for what is friendship but the path through parted seas, joining two borders, the best part of that is the landed connectivity, leading to where we two ends, meet in laughing two-gether old fools, younger-then-than-now, committed, grumpy men.
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Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC
the quality of commitment
~for yocum~ <> the quality of commitment is not restrained by quantity, nor by size, impressed by nylon sheerest volume, avoirdupois grams, Imperial weight, steeled feathers, immeasurable, one ton tips no true scale into red lined sincerity the necessary respectful silences it requires, the social nearness of geo-distancing, all need prodigal acceptance, like a long lost son, welcomed without questioning we flawed, banded by many weaknesses, poorly confessed, yet, no excuses tendered, to it, long ago surrendered, but understand this, constancy is  not judged by the frequency of our waves, but by the fervor of an undertow of unwavering constancy one that unceasingly rages, beneath superficial, steady waves, and through the thickened, roughed old skin separating atmospheres, I have grasped your heartened essence man, found its depths, blessed it with words, you’ve never fathomed surely you will growl at this, claiming obfuscation, excuses not in your vocabulary, nor should it be, though you require the steady reassurance of frequent brevity so and yet, but and still, I deny your claims, what you think, incorrect, cause I know my heart, and well it kens what lays in thine, what’s in yours is in mine, deep planted, a full nut grove flowering, your complaints, mine as well, all part parceled, with grace accepted for what is friendship but the path through parted seas, joining two borders, the best part of that is the landed connectivity, leading to where we two ends, meet in laughing two-gether old fools, younger-then-than-now, committed, grumpy men.
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36
wednesday the squeaky-shoed boy day the extremely annoyed day the ice cold void day. the boy who's all teeth smiles with the girl in the cleats drowning in bicuspids telling her how he 'roughed it'. sneakers scuffing hair fluffing smoke puffing.
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Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
Wednesday
You’re so prosthetic Existence constructed through defiance Meticulous hours exhausted in revision Intrusion into my consciousness Old assembly bones resonant atrocious melodies Concrete block on my mentality Socio-economic tailgate Bright lights on the public eye Interrogation Irrigation of the mouth Roughed up face Dislocated jaw Hostility unleashed Speak the ******* truth Departed mortality rate Breaking in is half the fun Grind you to a ****** mess One half in the East River The other in the Hudson
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Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 8:59 AM UTC
Lower m.
Where to start? A broken heart, cloudy skies, blinded eyes, hollow bones, anxious tones, a shaking hand, a crumbling land, an empty head, I should be dead. Trembling legs, throat of gags, roughed lips, unused hips, frail arms, can do no harm. Nothing left, a torn cleft, loss of scent, my life is spent. A black abyss, the forgotten kiss, shallow breath, I'm close to death, frigid tongue, my life is hung. Said my goodbyes, my body dies. A living hell, this empty shell, many tears, for you, my dear. Save my please! From this disease. **** my sorrow, on the morrow, don't let me go, down below. Pick me up, help me sup, I'm on my knees! Forgive me?... please...
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Dec 12, 2021
Dec 12, 2021 at 5:55 PM UTC
An Act Of Desperation
I've never been one To be caught off guard But I've got to say This's one helluva start I was raised in the suburbs Felt at home in big towns Haven't met many cowboys Well, up until now I watched you Hog Tie a runaway And cling to that bull You've got courage to spare And your life sure seems full Your hands are all roughed Caloused from years of hard work But your heart remains soft Despite how you may look Perhaps it's a phase Some fickle teen dream But I'm willing to bet That it's more than it seems So let us get comfortable Under wide, free, west sky Teach me to know horses And I'll teach you to cry One day, when we're ready, When I can ride like the wind You'll love me as much As I did to begin And after you've taught me Everything that you know, I'll teach you, in bed The City Girl Rodeo ;) Yeehaw!!
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Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
Something 'Bout a Cowboy... ;)
I loved you like a forgotten dream. Searing so vividly into the recesses of my cerebrum. Like fire. Setting my heart aflame with gasoline-slicked words that felt like a balm on my dry skin. I loved you like the air after it rains. Breathe in, breathe out, but I could never get enough of you. If words could cradle a broken heart, as tangibly as callous-roughed hands and bumpy veins running like ivy down your arms, then drape me in letters and knit poems around my shoulders. I loved you like light in an empty space. Because that is what you were. And even though you left, I still feel your warmth, still feel vestiges of heat tucked away in my dusty corners. Don’t fade. Don’t fade. Be the night sky that my eyes drink in like glassy pools of stars for a parched astronomer. Be a Category 5 hurricane, where I make a home in your center using pieces of stolen debris. I simply loved you, and as much as I’ve tried, I cannot find an image more beautiful than that.
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Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
The love letter I never wrote you.
You gave me Callouses On my heart. Spots that you roughed up enough Frequently That they stayed permantently hardened Untouchable An instinct defense now. Every time we would grow apart, These callouses would disappear a little Everyday. I was stupid for letting these callouses Become tender. For letting my gaurd down so that Every time you gave me that quick, sly grin I would have to build those calouses up again. I could either Thank you, For making me so strong, Or despise you, For making me so weak.
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Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 8:03 PM UTC
Weakened Weekend
Please grasp me, press me to your chest. Hush my frenzied inhalations, I can bear this pain no longer. Dip your fore-finger, across the roughed wake, of my cheek. Blot away the trauma. Rest your chin dangle its weight my head -jeering- screeching little girl- clutches her temples. It flickers, clarifies. Back and forth, Rocking, in fragmented, jerking motions- her underweight figure slammed along. Blood purges with each maddened- hoarse gurgles the spittle deposits at the overhang of her lip. Snagged in the animosity, of gnawing, writhing inhumanity. TASTE IT rusted copper An ashing purple, crusty and running over engorged rims of milky cocoa. Darling, tip out your tongue, lap up the shrivels of failed organs and deprived marrow. Images, flicker. Pulse, with the steady throb of an aching yawn. shift Reality sweltering Chilled moisture scoffs- the nape of your neck. Muddled, focus, focus. honing in back- and- forth. Rocking back and forth, no good. Not good enough. No help. Flicker malicious snarls. Fluctuating horror, impales your upper thigh. -SILENCE- Whispering -hush- -hush- don't let him hear hush whispers Make it STOP whispers -hush hush- help ME
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC
****** House
19 years flowered (hips and ******* dear) i took from them sugar and salt i plucked from them painfully their ripe pink promise i pulled and dug from them soft neon covers i pried and pulled i soft savagely tore into(them) i took and broke you carefully i broached you i bruised you 19 cute years i ran you bleeding and gasping 19 white years i coloured you carefully 19 tidy years i roughed you sharply 19 touchedless years in my hands (i knew you)stinging and you loved it
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Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
19 years flowered
Eyes brighter than the sun that acts as my heat in this cold world, the smiles on their faces, their loving embraces, locked in each-others arms; I'm tangled in the limbs of roughed-skinned trees and faceless barks. A slap in the face from the wind is my kiss on the cheek, their shelter is the roof above their head, mine the endless blue sky. Blue is all I've ever known. I feel blue, I see blue, faces turn into oceans at the sight of me; they turn cold, they get scared, they rush at me like strong waves. I cannot swim, I am drowning beneath the body [of water] I have admired and adored. My fantasies and dreams shoot at me with guns and sharp objects; the one who could've understood me was protected by those who think they understand him; I can no longer keep running into the ocean just to be continuesly thrown back to shore. He throws me out to sea, but yells at me when he steps on the  sharp pieces of me. I am only a shell; I am fragile. You're yelling at me for hurting you, you're the one who hurt me. (NJ2015) All Rights Reserved
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:37 PM UTC
Thrown To Sea
indecently the night tasted like staccato light and trebled, bassing the fluxing notes steeping off the amber pools i crushed deliciously under foot mounted bracket a mountain of love she shoved unseriously in my face and my winter blossomed spring tides new heat it bubbled between every nothing spurting terribly roughed dancing and calves pumping bounce we all moved like stones jittering motionless suddenly erupting swoon
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Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 4:46 PM UTC
Untitled