Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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What a dream metaphor
I spent hours
Dream hours
Cleaning the house that
Well
My best friend of eighteen years and her husband lived in
They were not present
If they were they didn’t see, hear, or speak to me.
Cleaning
There were other odd things that made it a dream
I never went back to the same room twice, but it was always where my stuff was
Trying to fit infinite items into a tiny box
There were people in some of the rooms who didn’t belong there
I went out for smoke breaks though
My mind getting tricksy
Two things were true
The house was never clean
I was never able to leave
One in the morning
After after after
My sister sleeps on the couch for some reason in a room absolutely blasting ONE OK ROCK
At this point
It was at this point
I just decided to leave
Into the streets
Find a car that stops they’re kind people
And the dream returns to regular programming
Save the world
Stop the bad guy
Here’s your boyfriend for the night
All that jazz
But what a dream
Did anything ever really come clean
Is it still filled with too many figurines
Clothes everywhere
What are they?
Griefs?
Grudges?
What do I hold that I cannot clean?
Too much to discern from a dream?
Do I dwell too much on dreams again?
Perhaps my mind just misses them and wanted to trap me in the world I would expect from them
The Empress sitting on high ignoring my very self
The Joker sitting around finding ways to be, silent, never at all concerned with me
The left reality
What comes after
The Mother standing but when I walk in there is no flinch like I’m not even there
As I ducked between her and the Scotsman I thought
They don’t love me anymore
With a babe I never see growing behind the door
Where I will never be welcome
I awake exhausted and yes
I know it was her birthday yesterday
So I wished someone else happy birthday.
My mind
How cruel to afford me hours upon hours of the reason I can never go back
To drop my sister who will never speak to me at the end
For some reason ONE OK ROCK again
I cannot fathom perhaps I don’t want to
Does it truly boil down to
I miss her
I was afraid as fuck
It was so fucking dark
They hate me
I will ask the cards.
No comments on -
I am a chameleon
In such a way I don’t see the similarities between me and them
Those who I am in the moment as needed always different always changing always
I don’t see myself in the mirror
I am nothing in a word, nothing in the grand scheme
Yet these alterations of self
Yet never seeing myself during the day
As I search for a something
An anything
I don’t recognise myself
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Doubling
Shakespeare
If there
Were
Two of you
Yet no
Not of me
That I could be
Caught in love
At first sight
A duality
What did he try to say?
That no one could know now
Not of me
Only to hear the silent
Another world
To be
To be
Not of me
Yet, no,
Not of me
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Waking up is so difficult
What a strange life this is
That my body wishes to just keep sleeping, and insists waking is exhausting
Painful
Caffeine is the medicine I take in the morning to wake me up to the point of
Whatever my body allows today
Marijuana is the medicine I take to ease the pain
Again and again
What would it be like in a world where I didn’t need these things to feel alive
Or, I should say, awake?
If only if only I knew.
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See but the reason why it’s all about you
Everything is
Because at the end I want to send it to you
Every word every sentence every letter
How I wish to send you every letter
Dear Joshua,
Today I sit with a man I do not love, doing things lovers do
Do not send you a second more of anything to break this silent now
Just know I thought of you
As I did and do and will
I feel certain you are well
I only do have to worry if you’re alone I believe or else I’m infringing on a beautiful love story
Here would be a great day to just
Finally be free of you
How I loved the idea of discovering love with you
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I wish it was dark out now
It’s 5pm
Oh
I wish it was winter
I wish I could find a comforting place to lie in the sun and not end up the colour of a lobster
No, no metaphors
I am that colour
Run from the sun hide from the sun
The summer has come I must remain out of sight like a vampire in real life
And I do not drink from humans
So far from where I started
So far from what I wanted