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Anyone can write in their own language. And anyone can take a greyscale photograph of the side of their face. And if anyone can do anything then anything is nothing. "If everyone is special then no one is" and all that.
I have gashes on the side of my tongue from trying to talk when I'm not supposed to and sties on the inside of my eyelids that seemed to come to me overnight while I thought about someone somewhere else. If I am someone and anyone can be someone then I am no one. I'm really not much at all.
I smell cookies over smoke and wonder why I can't put charcoal on paper and everyone else can. And why my media is so unappealing to the eye, so black and white and lacking any kind of shade. Anyone can write in my language. And if anyone can then no one can. I'll make sure of it.
Maybe I should try being anti-climactic. Or just wish bitter, mean things on everyone else, hoping they won't succeed so that I might. Selfish, but reasonable, yes. Hopefully everyone will break their pencil sharpeners so I won't have to worry about them anymore. If no one does anything then I can do something. If no one does anything then I can be something.
Maybe.
I have gashes on the side of my tongue from trying to talk when I'm not supposed to and sties on the inside of my eyelids that seemed to come to me overnight while I thought about someone somewhere else. If I am someone and anyone can be someone then I am no one. I'm really not much at all.
I smell cookies over smoke and wonder why I can't put charcoal on paper and everyone else can. And why my media is so unappealing to the eye, so black and white and lacking any kind of shade. Anyone can write in my language. And if anyone can then no one can. I'll make sure of it.
Maybe I should try being anti-climactic. Or just wish bitter, mean things on everyone else, hoping they won't succeed so that I might. Selfish, but reasonable, yes. Hopefully everyone will break their pencil sharpeners so I won't have to worry about them anymore. If no one does anything then I can do something. If no one does anything then I can be something.
Maybe.
Literature
photographs of us.
one.
the first thing i noticed about you was your smile. it pulled me in, and i was a fool for not resisting.
i guess you could say i loved your smile more than i loved you.
two.
we watched a thunderstorm from your porch, leaves and rain falling down, wind howling, thunder roaring.
you said the flashes of lightning were beautiful, and you watched them with your eyes closed.
but i couldn't bring myself to close my eyes, not even for a second.
i was too busy staring at you.
three.
we were standing on a bridge, watching the water run run run beneath us. fireflies danced in the air, playing a game of tag that i could only watch; never jo
Literature
find one real bit of feeling
do me a favor
no more love, no more later
this time, just stay gone
Literature
I woke up
July 10, 2000
I woke up
after passing out
after smoking up
after coming down
from the wa-wa sound
induced by nitrous filled punch balloons
I woke up
after snorting lines of ketamine
coupled with hits of acid and ecstasy
I woke up
after seven people died
from shooting heroin into their veins
I woke up
in a folding camp chair
with a hand wrapped around
a bag of weed
stuffed in my pocket
to a booming voice
telling me I was going to jail.
and I thanked god when they put on the cuffs
that I was one of the lucky ones that woke up.
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I'm not like them, but I can pretend.
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Comments15
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this is amazing..absolutely love it.