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He said, she said- I've pulled an amazing Amy! It had started from a story...
He said I hate you,
She said I love you.
We are nuclear,
Destined to explode,
We are at each other's throats,
Yet we are in love,
...or supposed to be.
But you are not in love with me,
And I am not in love with you,
We are in love with the idea of each other being in love,
Of people we've built up and dreamed each other to be.
You put the gun to my head,
I pull the trigger.
He said, I want a normal life.
She said, I know you don't.
He said,I don't need you.
She said, you are nothing without me.
I am your edge.
You only loved yourself when we were pretenders.
He said nothing.
She said, play nice.
Falling out of love each time a new flaw was discovered,
Like some defective product we all seem to be.
We are toxic together,
A couple forever.
When I am gone,
You will find me,
Become a better man because of me.
Our chemical infused romance can be listed as catastrophic,
Nerdy Love 2I walked in the store on the curb of 4th and Fremont. When I pushed the door, it hummed the Superman theme song as I passed through. I scanned the room as I spotted some X-Men, some Iron Man, some adventure time, and- Something caught my eye. It was a boy, about my age or older. Sitting behind the counter reading a Spider-Man comic. You wouldn't believe it, but he looked like superman...who just happened to be my favorite superhero. His dark hair curled just the right way, inhumanly blue eyes that twinkled like the night stars, and just the way he carried himself in his worn out flip flops and blue Chicago hoodie, and...I sound so incredibly gay now, don't I?
"Checking out the employees from behind comic books Spence? Stalker much?" Ryan's voice startled me as I jumped. He laughed cynically, "It's okay Spence, you can tell me, I won't judge you."
"Tell you what?"
"That you're gay and are checking out my work buddy Jon from behind a bookshelf?"
"...so that's his name? Jon?"
Love exists in pills and powder...we are addictsLeave me alone
So I can tell you goodbye
This desperate dream of a life
Selfish, conceived darling
Blind and naive
To see that girl who's petty emotions drive her to love him...
But she knows it will never be
Wishes they could just mess around
Without any strings attached
He is her comfort, her counterpart
The source of happiness
The reason for tears
The reason for life
Yet ironically he kills her everyday
His blindfolded actions
He sees her as a male companion with a vagina
Only she wants more
If only he didn't care and would just let go
She would find release
...but we don't live in that dream
We live in shades of nightmares and haunting melodies
"Love me" she says
"If you can't do that break me"
He does both
He will never know
Pathetic, she cries
Self indulgent, she knows
But her sins are her best attribute
Such a tragic world, aren't we?
My Own Personal ComaPlease take the time to read this and think about it.
Okay, so for the past couple of months I have been observing life because it's just all too predictable. Sometimes the reason I say certain things is to receive a certain type of reaction. So we are all brought up a certain type of way. Everyone is brought up differently but the same. Some guardian and beliefs, some sort of religion and attitude, something or someone to look up to or follow. We are all built up the same way, having people admire us and add to our self-esteem, constructing false hope and Hollywood dreams we can never achieve. We are put into schools where they measure our IQs and teach us nonsense that is unnecessary to reality since we all in one sense create our own reality. We all complete our needed education to apply to work behind a desk for just another mediocre job everyone else has just to get some cash in your pocket, start a family and let the whole cycle continue.
So no matter what race, gender, or
You're three sides of my eight sided circle"I would never try to decieve you."
"You do everyday."
Lovers juxtaposed behind shuttered eyes
holding broken glass for hearts
I said 'hello' as you said 'goodbye'
hopless hurts, romantic's worse
you should know
addicted to the ghost of you
you drain my everything
your touch is my relief
one last form called bittersweet
your tears fall beautifully like rain
teaching little birds how to fly
with sarcasm dripping from your lips
you're so pathetic you lick it off
pathetic taste I know you love
Swimming through my dreams
as repeated lines turn into the dirt
Teasing the trigger to where you are
Free. Release.If I could have everyone from my past again
to be my friend, lover, or ghost
If I could relive my faults
through a mirror my vainity released
shattered scowls for happy hearts
inside smiling but outside dark
alone is sad,alone,tempting
Unhealthy so now I let you free
Away from me
For the best it seems
Happiness to fill my void
Understand the concrete maze
Mind filmed black and white
too complex for comprehention
Count to Ten 31-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10
"Ready or not, here I come!"
I heard Brendon's voice bellow from my hiding spot. I heard his footsteps echoing.
"Come out come out whereever you are!" His pitch was high and teasing. I sucked in a deep breath. It was silent for a moment. It was silent for minutes. My visions was bluring behind the pile of leaves I was hiding behind.
"Gotchya RYRY!" I screamed, jumping onto my shoulders. Screaming in hysterics and pinching my hips. I let out a strangled yelp and frantically jumped out from the leaves. He was laughing behind me, I pouted and put my hands on my hips.
"That wasn't very nice Brendon!" He rolled his eyes and stuck his toungue out at me playfully. He snickered and hugged me from behind, burying his face in my neck like my mother used to do.
"I'm sorry Ryry."
And that was just the beginning for us ten year olds.
Ten. That's how many times I got beaten up this week by my drunk of a father. A few bruises painting
The daughter of desmond tiny/I am a pop song(normally im all rant rant rant i hate blah, but i am a pop song on replay, and this is now)
the daughter of desmond tiny
just another face on a computer screen
you're not an attention whore because we all are,
just a little
waiting to see who'll take notice of us and who won't
she was the one who ran away from everything if her eutopia didn't coexist with the real world
too clueless to know that she already had it
just a distorted kind that she couldn't see
it was her nature to push away the ones who love her
she likes to self destruct, don't deny it
it's an addiction she feeds on
one I fed on
her fingers tease the trigger but she never pulls it
so instead she says goodbye
juxaposed but seperate souls
i didn't know anything except for what you told me
so this is what I have
you didn't want to be my friend because I was dancing fences
hate me i love you i don't care
you made me feel that it was wrong to love everybody
and I'm sorry for everything I said
but it's too late to tak
OMG! 2I sat on the ugly turquoise couch which clashed with the bright orange walls next to Brendon. Spencer and Jon were glued to the monitors and discussing different tactics for whatever they were planning. For once in the short time that I have known Brendon, he was surprisingly silent. His eyes were bright and widely open, his leg jiggling below him, fidgeting. He looked at me cautiously with puppy eyes, offering a sip of burning alcohol. I refused with a smile, "I'm straight edge for your information."
He looked at me with a goofy grin, leaning closer to me. "Straight what?"
I rolled my eyes at him playfully, "No drinking, drugs, or funny business." I stuck my tongue out at the end of my answer.
Brendon snickered, scrunching up his nose in the process. "I've never met one of those before."
"Well maybe it's about time you have."
"Getting comfy you two?" Jon asked. We instantly broke apart from each other; I didn't realize we were squished together. "Man up, it's go time." He said with il
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
Bigotry murders religion to frighten fools with heWe are just seperate souls that drift off in the blur of society.
Just passing through without another thought.
I am the apparition who lays beside you under your covers and forms you and your state of mind.
Small talk with fellow students for weeks yet you cannot recall their names.
The friends who were once close, you can't even recognize their faces.
We're all ghosts; transparent and temporary.
But if we're all ghost, how can I remember you?
The sentimental ring your name resounds,
every touch your fingers leave.
Spotlight on the first day we met.
Every memory spent,made,created together more vivid than the next.
Maybe we aren't all ghosts after all...
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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