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Posts Tagged ‘insignifcance’

I hear the whispers

Baby I hear them speaking the truth

To fall for you

I’ve heard your words fall from a thousand lips

From faces no longer clear

You can’t have me

Pay no mind to my consent

Pay me no mind

There is nothing good left between

 

Glacier passion devoid

If it makes you less sad

Consider me a broken thing

Beyond emotional recovery

Still fit to ride

Past investment

Holding fast and whittling away

 

When the light falls

And I become a still, solitary shadow

Don’t turn it into something it’s not

You took all I have

Frozen cunt

Disengaged gag reflex

The place where I feel home

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You can take my mind on an adventure

Show it the world, let it sin and stain

Until it becomes static

A head on the shoulders

Of age

Pain

Fearful living and failure of oblivion

It is so easy to remember the sweet

Drowning of the mind

The quiet

Now the volume is a solitary mute

You changed

I did not change

You grew

I grew stunted

And looking into your eyes, I see the climate change

Further away from you

My bruises show

My

Allegiance to the static

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Small music on my mind

Brings me to you

In a haze of humiliation and bemusement

I remember those drowning days

Of pained misery

Here I am, standing the way I am supposed to be, stilled and silent

Inert for that few moments of relief from the paralysed blood sluggishly driving me away from reality

My mind whispers, an explosion in the silence

I just really want to fucking feel anything but this absence of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

My body is battle worn, scarred and no longer up to the challenge of a fluttered eyelash

Without the body, the walls are a thousand years in standing, a thousand ships launched and dashed like hope

This body is cleaved, deformed and moulded now to a fearsome sight

The mind is a bear chewing off its own leg

Absent and running on instinct

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I lost count of the number at that cold, calculating age of eighteen

And some months

As another slightly shrivelled disappointment

Pumped the last of its vigour

Into the empty receptacle at three in the morning

Behind the NCCP car park near that little club with the sofas

Before comfort became a necessity in nightclubs

And excess was a necessary outlet for madness

That beautiful insanity that accompanies the absoluteness of that cold, calculating age of eighteen and some months

The number rose, the incessant pounding wearing the walls smooth

Worn, weary, a thousand years of subtle change, to evolve

Lackluster, listless passion dissipating into resignation

Once I was indignant, with the world at my feet and the bay at my mercy

Until I stopped counting the numbers

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I can’t make you stay

Drinking, to keep this sane

It’s the end of love

Faded looks starve the romance

Here I am crushed

Here you are a loathe memory

You were at my mercy

And for one brief moment we composed a melody

Of sorts

Minor and major crescendo

Dusted from my mind

This space, stale sweat burning holes

I fill up on wine and you fill up on wine

I need to find a part of me

To be my saving grace

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You make me feel, that’s why I am happier without you

I’m always played out on the down days

Watch me leave

Your life goes on

Mine shrivels a little more

Someday, you find the real thing

I find the isolation lying next to you

Would it be me you are thinking about

Each time you slide wetly into another her

Who doesn’t quite fuck with such desperation?

Who dances to your beat?

Has a warmer touch, a deserving fuck

Dresses to please you, puts on the whole show

You find the real thing

I find the isolation lying next to you

Waiting for you

Waiting for you to watch me leave

Waiting for you to wait for me to stand still

In the dirt, and call you my own

To be washed away

Inside out I leave, you watch

Someday you find the real thing

I come back for a little more

Your life goes on

A pulse where I belong

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This is a story, a pained sigh in the housing of a page.

A hundred pair of rolled eyes have bound this.

Left it sealed as tight as that hidden box of intellect that small girls pack away with the sound of the plastic rustling on their first padded bra.

It’s a stark view, the female mind to the outside

What do you contribute?

Encasing your mind in concrete, lest it be discovered and picked clean.

Ten words

Ten short moments

Ten ways to not be raped

Ten ways not be beaten beyond what you deserve

Ten ways to ensure that you are, after the age of ten, alive, dialled down, functioning and fully integrated.

Fucktoy                                Appreciative                      Pretty                   Muted                  Hesitant                               Chattel                 Accepting                            Sacrificing                            Forgiving                                                              Capitulating

From pigtails to rohypnol

This is the story of ten words to help you navigate, to fly under the dominating radar

To be the girl that is to be owned with a veil and a hymen intact, or at the very least a count under seven of previous owners.

A tale of ten small words to keep you small

To differentiate between Dolly and Doxie

Ho’ and Her.

Ten words preferable being fucked up the ass in an alleyway by a faceless stranger because he can and you can’t do a single thing to prevent it because you lost your way.

Distracted amongst the millions of words in the English language.

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