Ride Or Die, Baby

Ride Or Die, Baby

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In And Over Losing Ourselves

In And Over Losing Ourselves

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My soul is the bottle dripping, succumber liquid gaining temper'ture Can't find no obvious holes nowhere; no breaks, no sights of fissure, And in its featurelessness and failure, its efficiency raised tenfold before But I have no use now for broken things rotting and ruining my kitchen table Should it join the bag, all black and dirty? Tell if you, too, should you find tape Maybe it's not too late yet, for my sanity's sake, I hope it's not too late My turf, my rules, my killing I'm a describable indistinguishable dark soul, only desperate for the more desperate To dominate and forclose ...Read more

play catch up

play catch up

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For someone who says he never puts importance to the past, I sure as hell am spending all my little coins clinging to it. Rehashes of trauma, merry-go-rounds and go-get-happies, go-get-betters, And drowning unsuspecting rooms under tub light of my disgraced charm. That's because I'm a manic pixie dream gay, –Y'know, like, in the movies, Maybe we hit up, and we have A blast of a time and for the times, and you think That I perhaps realigned or redefined your insights and in-flights, and inside The low-ceilinged hipster club you hang at, your friends start talking about me Really coo ...Read more

The Plight of The Gardener

The Plight of The Gardener

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"I am tending to my heart," Lon said. "Let me tend to it," he groaned and groaned. "They come as the dance fatigued. "Onto merry, onto sunshine, onto the that he so little have owned. "I walked past a breakthrough in reverse– Ka-re-eu! Turns out committedly playing vict' Is plentiful in Rewards." Lon turned to the flower and the mute bird with skin like a cow. "I have kept you within the spit of the sun, have I not?" "You have." "I have let the rain not ravage at your legs, have I not?" "You have." "Am I your home?" "You are part of it." "A-ha! Don't you dare take that away from ...Read more

Last Flare (An Old Constellation's Love Letter)

Last Flare (An Old Constellation’s Love Letter)

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i need a man who would fight for me to whichever length the lengths provide and lengths require life progresses and spins and flies, but at what cost you told me through phone calls and through subtext with your brow broken, endowed with yer panic, that we may not be able to provide what the other needs in the long run but fuck all the needs and fuck all the long runs tell me now, tell me now, you without hesitation without the sorriest pieces of gums in soles what do i need when i've exhausted it all get your heart broken get it broken a lot lock it up and out and away even from ...Read more

You won't find solace here

You won’t find solace here

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you spent an entire four months in an apartment ten stories high, living in the eight floor, surviving with cheap noodle sticks and beer and cigarettes and knock-off biscuits the elevator was broken, so most of the time you had to climb up and bring up your own furniture till you started giving up on comforts like a good sofa and new flatscreens, and your neighbors, they were no friends of yours, you didn't have yours they had lives built before you became a sorry tenant, a busy tenant just another, just another so many had lived and left there before they no longer need t ...Read more

Quod erat faciendum

Quod erat faciendum

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i took what he humbly offered and flushed them down the toilet. all of them, down and down. i didn’t care for him at all, or maybe too much. i bet he was nothing to me and he was using me, too. that's fine. but i should have gone with the good Sweaty Hours 'stead of not budging, bulging from these perforated sweatless caskets, peeking, peaking. i wonder if the clock checks on me, too, and all that we despise about ourselves. doth it keep notes of early ruin? will it count down or calm back to days i apologized to his knuckles and the knuckles of his friends? his mistake was ...Read more

Allegorica

Allegorica

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1. I think I forgot. I am a writer weak without a good editor, But let me tour you through out My mansion of storms. Don't get yourselves lost, The shelves are pretty much All sirens here. They will eat you up here, gnaw you up, Spit you up, and, here Never trust what you remember. 'Member all that are lost are all that are deserving of it. Child, are there merits to your meritocracy? Isn't that the way we dreamt about, fixing the world? How foolish were the sardines judged by the anglers and angels for their fins? I have learned to make empty threats from my parents. They are ...Read more

Gimlet

Gimlet

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"could you turn down the lights? i'm trying not to be seen here" no answer, there is just me and the barkeep and he's busy, polishing some old bottle but new to the new pub i guess he looked kind of good, i may have had fifty or five, but he looked good and all tall, and penguin-like, busy as a man should be busy built as a man should be built the tables behind me already have names on them already who would reserve them this early? i never understood how people point at their days, say which time is for which i have never done that with mine O', order? but i am so ha ...Read more

Vassalage

Vassalage

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I once conversed with a woman so difficultly soulful, that even Her breath smelled like incense. (The kind that monks use to honor Their deceased gods, calling them back in endless Effects and seamless attempts.) That, too, is how she mourned at her dorm room, all alone, With nothing but fog for company, some times the moon-glow, Nothing but sorrow to share, and sorrow to impart. When she sings, she puts all the world's divides to rest. All the frostbites burning her insides calm by simple Clawing at the audience. Closes her tunes into the restless, Subjugates with a kind of devilish ...Read more

Esteem

Esteem

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Glory be to gods at their highest– I am most high when on top of you. I have doubts, too– millions of them, more than I can count in three lifetimes. I couldn't. Struggled 'gainst the wall and the paintings hung– they seem to bleach the world with their visage. Lurk the iron where works combust, and battleships, they Sailed right throughout– quite quietly magnifico, taking breaths 'n talkative fuss. I wish I were as expensive as these scrapped works of our auteurs, Even dolls, they are auctioned at higher rates, Even memoirs, even vass– even decorative plates. Do we all equal ...Read more

6 P.M. Dawn

6 P.M. Dawn

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a reply to Kei's 6 A.M. Dusk, which you can read via this link. Yes, #Keithan, rise. RIIIISE. 🙌🏾 💛💚🏾 We are undeniable but you feel like a headache. Jesus Christ! Ease down on them seasonal metaphors, man! You put me down like I'm some sort of forecast, but I am swollen, legged, encased and embalmed, feet concrete and metric of spades. We're all just semi-adults trying to fucking function but I can't stop thinking about you and I don't know what to do with it. I imagine your days more eventful than they actually are, while I I danced with the dragons, and mighty we ...Read more

Boys of the Dirty Summer

Boys of the Dirty Summer

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The everards and statuettes are shorter and the blackness bright Being this cozy made me think everything in the worlds again was right, even sight As I whine on wine by the hot tub, the anatomy of flight Ne'r been confident in relationships, sure, am just fearing what you'll find Tell the beach all the sorrows, tell the beach all your kind –Ness and nest next by the terrace with printed shorts and shirts on the fly The dust settles 'yond the crevice, pref'rring chairs and tuxes dry As lavenders filth the room like gas'line, moss and kite ignite As I I beg to be wrong, as I beg in th ...Read more

My Summer At The Neverlands

My Summer At The Neverlands

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Take Aim

Take Aim

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Talking is futile 'cause talking is cornering. We reward petty behaviors with claps, showy 'nd steady. We like the good things but we like the bads as well. Act as rebels, as modern day bohemians, and dandyists on Wednesdays. We make our own caricatures because now we know ourselves and how can we not? Stress-obsessed on the plink tobaccuzzi, and it bubbles at the hoops of our trunks. If only we could love ourselves like we love our talkie box and our voyeur veneers. Loving ourselves is cool but hating ourselves is cool, too. It's normal now. Because we are all aware about it, yes? Lo ...Read more

 
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