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long hair (09/06/2024)

sometimes I feel like my long hair
what hides and reveals 
what some version
small and soft 
lives tangled in the unkempt locks
where it takes work to get to my mother's eyes
her cheekbones
a hair's breadth between. 
it's the distance between being looked at 
and being seen. 

shorn, I feel the shame of nakedness 
rather than it's splendor 

I feel the parts of me worth hiding 
in t...

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imstilllearninga lotwritinglong hairbecausei needto

Hoop Jumping Writers

Hoop Jumping Writers
The writers have to jump thru hoops
Like trained pet dogs for a biscuit
The biscuit is a publishing deal
Or poem in print or online story
The publisher says jump
The writers ask how high?
Have you ever seen jumping writers?
The funniest sight you’ll see
All jumping together jump jump jump!
Jumping thru hoops to get in print
Doing anything for a deal
Some even leap ...

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satirewritingdifficultpublishing

what's that word again?

I've been in my feelings
and in my head for years.
I've built walls and
called them boundaries only
to wake up one day and realize
that I've boxed myself in

and that's the tragedy in it all;

in keeping myself safe
I've locked everything out.
and what a sad way to live,
peaceful and
picking my own muse 
to pieces until the only thing
left is
a bloody pile of 
everything I used to...

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poetrysadlongingwritingdualityluggageshadow

Rust

I'm afraid I'll lose my edge
if I don't cut myself with it

afraid there's no proof
of my life
if it isn't pouring crimson

afraid that 
I'm living in vain if
I'm not
living in vein

Im afraid I'll lose my edge
if I don't cut myself with it

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existentialpoetrybleedwriting

I am at a loss to write

There are times I sit with pen in hand,
staring into the blank heart of the unmarked page,
as if it were a pond and I—a boy with no fish to show.

Words won’t come, as stubborn as a mule,
having wandered off to some far corner of the farm.
I am left with the rustle of the wind,
the idle chatter of the keyboard ticking time away.

Yes, in an old-world style I toy with rhymes,
abab or some...

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self criticalcommunicationprosewriting

They all come out the Same!

 

I see you here, I see you there
You sit upon my shoulder.
Biting thoughts, psychosis.
My voice it grows much colder.

Do I need to hear, I've failed this time,
You whisper in my ear
Clouded thoughts, depression
"You'll never be a seer"

"Your words they have no place
There nothing on their own"
Darkened verse, bipolar
Deep seeds of doubt are sown

Words are getting easier,
thi...

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Self-doubtmental warwriting

one day i'll be a star

told you about all my hopes and dreams

I wanna be a writer and teacher,

the only things I feel like i'd be good at

you ask to see my work and I refuse to show you

 

a few months later I joke about how funny I am 

you say I should become a comedian

to be honest I've thought about it

why not dump all my trauma onto people and merely laugh it off?

 

after we broke up I t...

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🌷(3)

starfamoussongsongwritingwriterwritingcomedy

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