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Hey, guys. I apologize for the lack of posts lately, but I work retail, and this time of year is KILLER. I rarely have the time or energy to sign on here or write. I’ve been continuing my work for Exhaling Catalysts daily, but that’s about it. Things will be back to normal soon, so bear with me!!
Happy Holidays, friends! Hope they are filled with joy!
Jump on this train and take a ride,
glance out the window at the view,
and you will see a heart renewed;
my soul is brightening for you.
You don’t need another human being to make your life complete, but let’s be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn’t see them as disasters in your soul but cracks to put their love into is the most calming thing in this world.
Brief flashes of the winter’s past
are vivid enough to haunt me,
but all the same, they’ve taught me
who I never want to be.
And for the first time in so long,
I welcome frost-filled mornings
with open arms and open heart
to collect all my good dreams.
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They say self-destruction of memory
is nothing short of a tragedy,
but ever since I noticed mine slipping,
I have counted each one of my blessings,
for the recollection of such vivid detail,
while for some it may be enlightening,
for me was a curse in sheep’s clothing.
I never knew what I was missing
until a piece of my mind
turned up missing.
The snow falls signaling
another nuclear winter.
We taste like ashes
and dusty bones
tonight by the television
it is not what you think,
but it is what you see;
reality is cold,
and my love,
has finally frozen.
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My brain is fuzzy
and my foot bones are splintered,
but my soul, she smiles.
i’m not a girl
i’m a storm with skin
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I do not always know how to bleed;
even writers get words caught in their throat.
But we truly have no way to say
some of the things we feel,
so we do our best to tame
our thoughts without a pen
until the words finally come,
or we’re left waiting in the snow.
My hands are stained red from trying to staunch the flow streaming from the gaping wound in my chest. It is not a new wound, though before, it was much smaller, a mere pinprick in comparison. It has only grown in size since the day I first noticed its presence. I wouldn’t leave it alone, poking and prodding at it, a tongue to a cheek bite. And it grew and grew into the hole that occupies my torso today; it grew from not being able to heal. I kept it from stitching itself back together, and now my insides are pouring through my fingers. I am careless, but I don’t know how else to live. And now I’m bleeding to death because of my flawed nature. I’m dying. The blood loss is starting to get to my head, and it’s all I can do to keep my balance so I don’t collapse into the red pool at my feet. I will find a bed to die in, crawling there on slippery hands and knees if need be.
If I must die, I will die comfortably.
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