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Even your hate filled scorn, is better than your razor sharp silence.
I wish I had a gun, so that I could blow your unforgiveness out of my head.
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Anxiety.
When you feel like screaming, but not sure what you're wanting to scream about. Something is bugging the fuck outta you, and you can't pin it down...so you just want to scream. Frustrated at something, everything, and nothing at all. It's heavy in your chest, it's occupying space in your head...whatever it is....or isn't. Searching your mind for where it's hiding, why it's there...whispering for it to show itself, yet afraid of what it might reveal. There's no exit, no outlet, no relief. You sit in silence, listening for something, anything; waiting for it to move, appear, speak....something....whatever it is. You just want to scream, claw at your chest to set it free...make it leave. Whatever it is...or is not.
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She's STILL unimpressed with my shit.

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20 years later, I'm still in love with who you were, who you are, who you're evolving to become.
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When we choose growth over perfection, we immediately increase our shame resilience. Improvement is a far more realistic goal than perfection. Merely letting go of unattainable goals makes us less susceptible to shame. When we believe "we must be this" we ignore who or what we actually are, our capacity and our limitations. We start from the image of perfection, and of course, from perfection there is nowhere to go but down.
ā BrenĆ© Brown, I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn't): Making the Journey from āWhat Will People Think?" to "I Am Enough"
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How I wish you could see me. Notice that although you live amongst the lofts, and I amongst the concrete, our worlds aren't so different. I still see your torment. I still see that flame of tragedy.
What I wouldn't give, to bury myself alive in your words or drown in the darkness of your eyes. If your voice were a knife, sharpened to perfection, I'd offer up my throat. Even if the touch of your hands, were of arctic ice, I'd hold them tight; in pain, in passion.
When you sleep, do you dream of a stranger? A person you've never met? When you struggle to close your eyes; when the night calls your name, it's not you losing your mind...it's me, losing my reality.
I know you see the same moon, I know you feel that somewhere, in this city, there's still a shred of you, marked in concrete, ghostly remains of your youth, in hallways; in staging, with your footprints...echoes of screams...it was always the screams.
We're not so different, sir...to you, sir, with reverence. If I could drink to you, each night, my cup would be filled with empty wishes, and a hollow past. I wasted no time in spilling the juices of my prime; recklessy wrecked...we're not so different. I'd drink to you; to your chiseled smile, to your graceful frowns, to the strings you plucked from torn hearts, to the burning lights that weren't the blazing Sun, to your voice of wisdom; stemming from your soft lips.
I'd drink to you, for sinking me deep; plummeting into a place that I have no desire to leave. It is, after all, where you are.
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āYou come home, make some tea, sit down in your armchair and all around thereās silence. Everyone decides for themselves whether thatās loneliness or freedom.ā
ā Unknown
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My Brotherās Big Day (A Monologue)
[standing proudly dressed in front of a 3-way mirror]
Janelle: Heās gonna be so proud of me. Iāll bet, if he could see me right now,
heād be beaming. I picked it out, just for him.
[Twirl slowly, admiring her reflection]
Mama even helped me pick out the shoes. She said I should never wear white
shoes, to such an occasion, but I wanted them to match my dress, so badly.
When she gave in, I squealed with excitement, and she saw the brightest smile
on my face. She knew; no matter what she said, otherwise, I was gonna to be
so stunning for my brothers big day. [Sigh] Almost time; not a hair out of
place, my face done up right...and my shoes; so perfect with my perfect dress.
[Janelle steps away from the mirror, and turns to walk through an opened
door, and down a short hallway.]
Janelle: Iām so nervous; why am I nervous. Heās just my brother; maybe itās
because heād laugh every time mama put me in a dress? Gah, I hated them!
[Janelle walks into a dimly lit room, aligned with empty wooden chairs, and
she slowly approaches a softly lit stage. She peers down toward a beautifully
black lacquered box.]
Janelle: Hey Joel, see?, I finally wore a dress, and mama didnāt even have to
fight to get me in it! Do you like it?Ā
[She twirls happily in front of the
beautiful black box.]Ā
Mama helped me pick it out, and I know you canāt quite
see my shoes, but theyāre so perfect, and they match the lacy stuff on the
dress. The lace kind of itches, but itās worth it...youāre worth it. Iām sorry it
took me so long; I just wanted your day to be extra special. Oh, and Auntie
Peg is supposed to be here to. I hope she doesnāt wear that horrible
perfume she always puts on; that woman would gag an entire family of
elephants!Ā
[Janelle chuckles softly to herself]Ā
Donāt worry though, I think
mama is gonna have her seated next to the back doors.
[Peering down at Joel, suited so handsomely in his new shiny black box, she smiles softly.]
Janelle: Youāre gonna be okay now, Joel, youāll see.
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Flirting with Eternity
How many times have you died, while I cried you that ocean; never reaching the bottom, choking on sour emotion. When did you realize, my tailor made despise for your silence; listening close with bated breath, and tear streaked penance? Just lie down where Iāve been, until I wake up from the sin in my head; always searching for that glory, in the words that you said.
Iām flirting with eternity, each time you scream. Iām basking in disasterās light, with no right; going up and crashing down. When will you share, your nightmare; Iām flirting with eternity, entirely in your dream!Ā
Where did you learn to bend reality, that subtle specialty with grace; playing the saint in sinnerās clothes, stomping hearts with thundered pace. Who taught you to laugh, at the better half of my futureās mistake?; catching glimpses of my madness, just to see me break. Wonāt you walk in my shoes, while my blistered feet lose ground; running away from that song, I canāt stand the sound!
Iām flirting with eternity, each time you scream. Iām basking in disasterās light, with no right; going up and crashing down. When will you share, your nightmare; Iām flirting with eternity, entirely in your dream!
Take me down, one more time; make the pain be okay. Take me down, one more time; just one more time...eternity is on itās way!
#words that will never be sung#poems that will never be songs#flirting with eternity#dancing with disaster#poetry
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When your mind is so heavy, you can't catch your breath.
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Reblog if you're not homophobic
Every url that reblogās will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad.Ā
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