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I want to fuck everything but I don't want to be touched. It's awful, my watching: the refusal to participate, the ogling and superiority, the approximation of a true desire.
- Richard Siken, from “Pornography”
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― “A Ghost, a Real Ghost,” Randall Jarrell.
Hockey Poetry Post 14/?
(Photo credit: Dave Sandford, Matt Slocum, Len Redkoles, Len Redkoles, Jared Silber, Elsa)
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Smile
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hospital
sectioned
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[bdubs voice] saison
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hey I’ve got a new recipe for you;
it’s called low impact healing era with a dash of grandma aesthetic and it makes a manageable life 🫥🧟♀️🧶🪡🧵🐤🐌🪺🌾🍎🧺🌸💐
ingredients (included but not limited to):
a floral nightie
olay night firming cream
seasonal patterned bedsheets
a grey crystal velvet comforter
organization boxes from amazon for your wardrobe
abandoning your phone by leaving it in your moms dresser drawer
pens and makers
a lined notebook
woolen socks
knitting needles from dollarama + some old yarn you found in the basement
bio oil
no more coffee
a hardcover notebook to glue your crafts in + dried flowers you’re planning on collecting this summer
tea tea and more tea
get your old cameras out and charge them, you might be more likely to use them again that way
Vitamin D, C
magnesium before bed
coffee scrub body wash
a few different shampoos to choose from in your shower (aveeno green blends that smells like roses and chamomile, aveeno clarify and shine apple cider vinegar, whole blends gentle shampoo that smells like oat and rice milk)
low impact basement workout with your parents in the evening
stretching
tea cups with little yellow flowers on them
now mix together at your own pace + add or eliminate ingredients as needed, and enjoy!!!!!!!
March 18
12:34am
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Throwback Friday. My World, My Thoughts
My Throwback poem from September 2021 was originally titled “Worlds Beyond Thoughts”, however, when I published the piece in my new book “Until Eyes Here Sound” I altered it to “My World, My Thoughts” My poem today is made from a list of comments that I have left on fellow ‘Bloggers’ sites, and in order of stanza appearance, these are the writers’ sites for you to visit.Bart…
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The Fire That Consumes Me
The suns rays are no short of high-powered spotlights
beems that start to gain weight
A weight of day lights expectations
A weight on my shoulders too heavy for me to bear
All my disappointments, my failures, and all my mistakes
Flash in neon colored lights
and my successes & efforts...
Well…
their bulbs burnt out.
the covers hold tight
disparity encases the pressure I feel
staring back into those same tired eyes
the awaited visitor
the excited watcher
bouncing filled with anticipation
promises met later and later
until finally...not at all
a welcome overstayed
by existence
my invitation was lost
or just never mailed
face to face with my enemy
that of which is the epitome of my defeat
my biggest fears manifested into my ugliest reflection
The loss of faith
I was encouraged to have in this person
this person i can't stand the sight of
the will departed long ago
Every talent becomes another dark pitfall
my capabilities build the walls that imprison me
just as my faults would
bittersweet moments of creative distraction
ideas that can come but will never be executed
never finished
pieces written but never read
my own excitement never matched
the eco of my words
fallen to the floor
not on deaf ears but ears not willing to hear
unimportant
my own mind is the rope that hangs me
keeping my feet from the floor
the ground promises another breath if I agree to its terms
the promise
my signature across the dotted lines
it only lasts so long
the ink will fade
or it will burn
burn in the roaring flames that consume me
the fire closes in
sent to battle with a bottle of lighter fuild
in time it will take over
my destruction will be of my own doing
the fire ive kept lit and flames ive fed
keep away the frost
the trees and sticks the brush it claims is no surprise
flames don't deceive as humans do
but eventually it will grow too hot and over come
while those around me bask the light of the fire
they fail to realize I'm the one that's burning
in the illumination of my destruction
I understand the expectations on me are as transparent and unimportant as the people that create them
They can watch me burn to sinder and ash
Their lack of empathy
lack of care
A desire make others feel unimportant
refusal to take accountability
your fate will be that of which you caused to others
only this isn't just trauma
this could be deadly
A.MacAllister
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Melancholy
Submerging my body
into the ocean of melancholy
i’m drawn to it, the want to feel sick.
To finally be believed, to be worried for.
Water starts to fill my lungs and it burns.
The burn is painful, staining my skin.
but maybe people will notice the scars
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Faulty Emotions..?
They say love is blind. That when we fall
in love we don't notice their imperfections
and their little quirks. If this is true, then
tell me... why aren't we forever with the
first love we find?
Sight is but indecisive judgement as
arbitrary as am i to truth. Intrepid
emotions of addiction controls what
obscure signs of the heart. Trying to
suppress this addiction will only tear me
apart. Utterly alone in isolated intellect,
yet in darkness lies my mind. Never have
I been in a state of indecision of this kind
My life through unclouded eyes is a
tomb...no...a mausoleum of emotions. A
steadily increasing beat, these faulty
emotions are like an epinephrine
Why must not your inner-thoughts
hopelessly fall prey to truth? Maybe it's
because sometimes we insist on living a
lie. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.
The truth can hurt...the feeling of
betrayal is so over-whelming kinda like
Judas' kiss
But sometimes the truth is exactly what
we need. A good slap in the face.. a
reality check. Go on and find it, you'll be
doing yourself a good deed....
And still the same question remains...
"Why aren't we forever with the first love
we find?"
Because love is unpredictable, its
sometimes contradicting. The more love
you want the more love you must give
away. And if it's all for nothing then that's
the price you pay.
We all want to be loved and yet love can
only be ours if we give it to others. Love
cannot be possessed, it cannot be
controlled, nor manipulated. It defies all
rules and limitations. Some people might
go as far and say " It's not worth it,.. it's
over-rated"
I'm not sure where i stand. Love seems
so close, yet so far away
Is love really a faulty emotion?
I think about it everyday
Who really knows for sure about these
things...time will only tell..what the future brings
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A Promise To Myself
Ophelia Penning
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Take a deep breath, you can
do it! Just follow the plan.
Enough with stressing,
get on with confessing
and tell him: "I'm your fan!"
At last, she managed to speak
her mind, though it wasn't sleek.
Her crush let her have
his autograph.
What does she see in this freak?
He invited her to his home.
It was her first time alone
in a room with a guy.
She's nervous, but why
is he so mature and grown?
She for one would suffice
to stay within the lines.
Faced with a test,
she did her best
to color in his designs.
Sakura Chiyo, 16,
couldn't have ever foreseen
that he was a baka,
a famous mangaka
for a monthly girls' magazine.
Her image of him was skewed.
The author that she had viewed
as a gentle beauty,
a shoujo deity,
was actually just some dude.
Someone make it make sense!
How is he so dense,
yet it seems
he's an esteemed
sensei of romance?
Shouldn't his rizz be out of
this world, somewhere above?
But he would gloat
proudly, I quote:
"I haven't had a first love!"
The girl was still quite stoked
to help with his workload.
So smitten, and yet
all she could get
was not what she would've hoped.
What happened in chapter one
was already so much fun!
A confession was made.
Sure thing, it failed.
The story has only begun.
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A sketchy pencil swamp thing from 2017 that became accidentally okay when I played with digital settings.
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korze
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estj on the personality test. aries sun, cancer rising. scientist, girl, boy (?). queer. hundreds of words to describe who i am. why don’t i recognize who i see in the mirror
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