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"shedd" poems
The body of a woman's neutral fineness embraces the chords of my steel guitar; laughing about all the points that I've been chasing after. Or just running away- no more for today. Christ, you slipped but lied too many times before, and while you plunge your wrists into your knives, I thought we had a second chance. But that was before, you throw sticks and stones and store your anger in the three fingers of the drink that clinks against our first date when I bought you a 25¢ ring. It was a children's vending machine, that brought me three years of happy things. I don't want to be fake with you anymore. So go and find your Milky Way. I'm staying dumb, Britni I'm in trouble. All the stakes are different when you are chasing yesterday's killing. And even the sound of the gunshots don't overcome the voice of the human tongue, in violence and war and all that's abhorred, even the smallest vesper or prayer a whisper of three little words can always be heard, even the faintest whisper can always be heard, as long as the voice that says it is honest and pure. I was too tight to drive with your hands over my eyes, even in Inverness valley and South Santa Cruz, the wheelbarrow of berries I brought home for supper, ingested in each little bite we cut in half, was the best of the worst time that we ever had. And always we were. In love. In parking lots, playgrounds, at concerts, on airplanes, in bedrooms, custodian closets, laundry mats, and carrying our nap sacks, while we attempted to sleep and hide all night in the Shedd Aquarium. I just should have known better, it'd wouldn't be easy, with you I'm always wrestling sharks with a mirror, your pink sugar perfume from the chains on my wrists tied up across the room. While you didn't trust me I was always at home. Trust isn't love unless it's enough, unless it's enough to quit drugs. It's symptoms are the same as that of great madnesses.
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Talking to Me, Talking to You
The body of a woman's neutral fineness embraces the chords of my steel guitar; laughing about all the points that I've been chasing after. Or just running away- no more for today. Christ, you slipped but lied too many times before, and while you plunge your wrists into your knives, I thought we had a second chance. But that was before, you throw sticks and stones and store your anger in the three fingers of the drink that clinks against our first date when I bought you a 25¢ ring. It was a children's vending machine, that brought me three years of happy things. I don't want to be fake with you anymore. So go and find your Milky Way. I'm staying dumb, Britni I'm in trouble. All the stakes are different when you are chasing yesterday's killing. And even the sound of the gunshots don't overcome the voice of the human tongue, in violence and war and all that's abhorred, even the smallest vesper or prayer a whisper of three little words can always be heard, even the faintest whisper can always be heard, as long as the voice that says it is honest and pure. I was too tight to drive with your hands over my eyes, even in Inverness valley and South Santa Cruz, the wheelbarrow of berries I brought home for supper, ingested in each little bite we cut in half, was the best of the worst time that we ever had. And always we were. In love. In parking lots, playgrounds, at concerts, on airplanes, in bedrooms, custodian closets, laundry mats, and carrying our nap sacks, while we attempted to sleep and hide all night in the Shedd Aquarium. I just should have known better, it'd wouldn't be easy, with you I'm always wrestling sharks with a mirror, your pink sugar perfume from the chains on my wrists tied up across the room. While you didn't trust me I was always at home. Trust isn't love unless it's enough, unless it's enough to quit drugs. It's symptoms are the same as that of great madnesses.
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I wish you'd tell me things big things little things like how your mom and dad met did you fail your first driving test if you like your sandwhiches cut in triangles if you like eating alone or being accompanied if you like or hate soy nuts how you spend your Christmas which contries have you visited which of your friends do you really trust do you like sunsets or sunrises do you like old movies if you like the lights on or off when you sleep what were you like when you were small what genre of music do you listen to where did you get that scar above your brow what is the meaning of your tattoo of a girl's name what type of girls do you prefer do you like girls who smoke do you like girls who shedd a plethora of tears for you do you like girls who are fragile do you like girls who write poems about death would you drown with me if I asked you to?
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 11:35 AM UTC
Make way for the fragile girl
Contained in this lonely shedd Ingrained are the words they said Fearing as she misread Sewing instead with a broken thread A mouth that was unfed
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Jun 6, 2022
Jun 6, 2022 at 10:40 AM UTC
Trapped