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My eyes at rest

While my mind sets

Fire

To racing thoughts crowding my brain.

This new desire to write

Has broken normal notions

For I found my way to you

And your point of view.

Each days become endless

As I fight with my conscious

Are these my words or yours?

Two opposites merged within my being.

What the hell am I now feeling?

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War drums

I finally begin to see

The world through a lens besides me

I am looking at a land quite the same

Except the destruction was my own

I’m living inside your brain

Feeling your pain

I see how deadly ill be

I see how you analyzed me

I know the plans of mutinity were much more than only hurting me

I was the monster of our movie

I see now

I feel now

But it’s too late now.

The drums keep beating.

If I were beautiful

If I were beautiful

Then would my insanity be accepted

As a perfect flaw? If my body coukd tempt your mind to wield itself around my heart would the issues make us fall together and not apart?

What does it mean to appreciate another after losing all of yourself?

Within this heart if broken pieces I found a figure to rest my eyes but never will they understand the war my mind must Excercise.

Dont get to close

Don’t have hope

Don’t expect.

Just don’t.

After love it seems so impotent. Y8u want to dial their cell and talk all night. You want to sleep to their YouTube back lit night.

No. Let’s not go there. Lets stay on track.

My heart beats.

under attack from hormones and feromones

Nauseated love scenes unfold. I dont want this image to hold.

I don’t want to know your touch because I dont want to miss it like this air to breathe chokes me in my misery from an unrequited love that broke me.

I dont want to feel soft lips pressed so firmly upon my hips. I can’t tell,in my fingers are mine or yours as I moan your name through closed doors. I cant unsee the things that break me

Yet I want to feel your body melt against me

I yearn for broken things

Please,

Come fix me.

White single mothers

Am I right or am I wrong

To judge my own race so hard?

We believe that white people are the key to the perfect population yet i see these things inside other cultures that i wish I could white people could have bothered

Bothered to see or to feel or speak

To see a family as something you need to keep. To feel a love so deep as a burden lifted from personal streets

Deep within your soul I find white people generally feel old. Tired from their pleated sheets and from babies cutting teeth.

We sit in a struggle of white single mothers. We find a strength within ourselves as the whole world shuts us down. Promised a spoon to feed if only we had aborted their seed. Alone we struggle as mothers

For white mothers

We only can depend upon each otber

Eventually everyone crumbles

When they put their needs behind themselves in a

Hole or a door or a lock or a wall

It all breaks

Eventually

When they break the suilence

They fall to pieces

Piece by piece the puzzle breaks and we see their face

We all have needs

Broken tokens to endless things

We all have fallen

From my knees I pray

That my children

won’t feel these things or see the things that I have seen

Talking to myself

Alright lets start this true

This rant of lies wrapped inside my mind thats telling me

Telling me I’m fine

Therapy ain’t my scene

Bitching about issues only I can see

Show me how to treat my fellow humanity while im returned with apathetic hypocrisies.

Unyielding hunger to cry out for you

Someone to hold and sleep the night next to

I dont need petty things. Just someone who will understand me. Broken souls have kaleidoscope eyes and im lost in colors of forgotten lullabies.

My objective is transparent.

Im a shitty single parent

Meant to bend and wrap my needs.

Born to shape and follow

Im better as a unit

Alone in my struggles

No hand to comfort my aches or sorrows

I judge these things from what I’ve seen

Conversations flying high

Quickly morphing into other things

Tonight the bottle judges me

Conversations with 20 versions of me.

Renewal

I shared a piece of my soul

To a stranger of sorts

I am giving a glimpse behind my closed doors, to a world of my shattered soul, to the raging storm, and to the broken unknown.

Quietly I weep as i strangle my thoughts under these sheets. I’ve written a novel in my mind But vocoalized thoughts never aline.

I’m lost and I’m searching

For a world less unnerving

Paralyzed in memories

While reality carves out my sanity

Alone to see my vanity

Alone to hear my prayers

Alone to write my excuses

Alone I am me

Alone I continue to be

Renew my thoughts on me

Renew my expression to see

I’m hungry for the touch

Yet too angry to act on such…

Its easy to be me

When I push and push my feelings–

Under me I relinquish my needs–

Its easy to Renew me

When I darken beautiful beings

Anger is easy to to swallow

If everyone follows and follows

Deeper and

Deeper

I’ll be

My renewal is a work of sorrow.

Its so easy to be me.

Renwew my hatred as followed:

You can’t hurt me

Lost in my scene

Ill write off each problem

You’ll hate the sarcasm and one-lined numbers

For every tomorrow

I’m finally the version of me

To walled off

For anyone to follow.

A renewal in ashes it seems

So drunk in clarity

I’m

Gone

So alive on prosperity

I’m Gone

Hating me makes tomorrow my only problem

Were madness

Were madness

Complete opposites

And

Total choas

But since when do we settle for a boring kind of love

I want madness if madness means you

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