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freewrites, dreams, memories...

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(no subject) [Dec. 16th, 2014|10:50 am]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

nnylrac
[mood |calmcalm]

I am Echo, speaking with other people's voices,
Singing other people's songs.
Forged from the radiance of other people's feelings.
Intoxicated by intensity,
I spin it all back until it becomes a resonance of nothing.
Then...
I am Empty, retreating into silence until someone has words for me again.
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Strangers in Motion [Dec. 15th, 2014|02:45 am]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

bruten_ensamhet
I fell for the promise
of a happy ever after
All I got in return
was echoing silence
I fell down,
bruised and broken
And now that's that;
strangers in motion
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Where is the justice? [Dec. 8th, 2014|09:34 am]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

bruten_ensamhet
I'm a tortured, broken soul
Everyone takes what they need, and then they go
But you. You took my dreams, my favourite things
You took them away, and then shared them with another
Six years on, I was doing so well
Getting revenge by building my success
And then I fell apart. And all the memories came back. And I still can't get up.
You broke my sense of self, my ribs, my soul
But you never faltered. Continued to grow. From a monster into a man.
I still suffer. Where is the justice?
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(no subject) [Dec. 2nd, 2014|10:24 pm]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

connectedmorons
What do I do with
a broken
heart?

Nobody seems to want
to buy it
from
me.

Come back come back?
I'll give you
my heart
free of charge
again.
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(no subject) [Nov. 27th, 2014|10:45 pm]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

connectedmorons
It's not as if you're the first person who had their heart broken.
It's not as if you're the first person who spewed
the contents of their broken hopes
in an ungainly sprawl against the unforgiving white
of the computer screen.

Half your words
are trite and
spongier
than your mother's sponge cake.

You're
crying into the stuffiness
of your favourite blanket
(so favourite it's gone unwashed for three months, Christ's sake, sister. Don't you have no hygiene?)
and your heart constricts against the
white bones of your ribcage
and you think
"fuck everybody I'm out of love I'm in pain oh god I'm going to be so lonely so lonely sO LONELY"
and half your tweets are rife with
regret anger regret anger regret anger.

Fuck's sake, sister.
Aren't you tired?

"no," screech you, your lips dry from too much red lipstick
"i'm not sad enough, i'm gonna be sad enough to fill up a whale's belly so
FUCK YOU"

Monsoon season's passing by soon, but
the tears drooling from the corners of your red eyes
will send the streets panicking hordes again.

Write your little shrivelled heart out,
the sun will come again.

Until then,
learn how to swim.
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(no subject) [Nov. 13th, 2014|02:42 pm]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

bruten_ensamhet
I am not what you think I am; not WHO you think I am. Please pass no judgement and I will tell you no lies. Except for my name.

Men who go to war – they will never be the same. The Autumn breeze, the beating heart. An empty soul forged from a cold death march.

Tragic is beauty. Love, sex, death. Promise yourself peace, wrapped up in another’s body. Lies. Until the last breath.

Let it be. It will come. A knife waiting in the dark. Intangible suffering, caused by the one you called home.

“I love you,” she thought. “I lust for you,” he said.
Mirror image of confusion. Two lives separated by glass.
“I want it,” you said. “But I need it,” I wept.

Where do we go from here?
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(no subject) [Nov. 4th, 2014|08:53 am]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

nnylrac
It's funny...
I don't even think this is a feeling anymore
It's a memory of a memory
As substantial and alive as a pressed flower
In a book I'm not reading anymore.

I could open it up,
flip to that page
and let it enter my senses again.
But it wouldn't be the same.
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(no subject) [Nov. 4th, 2014|02:22 am]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

bruten_ensamhet
Jett Aldaine, Jett Aldaine - It's my new name.
It flows and ebs and breaks at the circle. Thick ink and a scorched note on the tongue.
This is my introduction.
Madness is reality, just like your reality is my madness. A certain type of soul it takes, takes and breaks. Then never wakes.
We're the only ones left alive.
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(no subject) [Nov. 2nd, 2014|05:54 pm]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

connectedmorons
Yesterday, I rolled a dice, and it came up sixes.
I ate the numbers to fill my belly,
drank Coke to wash it down and washed my face
with the stinging of bees.

But still my eyes weep red,
and my throat still groan blue,
and neither the
rumble of an earthquake, nor
the stifle of a pillow
would quit these colours.

Today,
I walked three miles and fifty in
seven-league boots.
(They sold them cheap; there were defects.)
I ate ice born in the electrical cradle of the fridge,
and I wept red into my bowl.

I dyed my lips in poison,
there were lines blooming from the corners of my eyes.

Today,
I wept red.
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(no subject) [Oct. 13th, 2014|09:21 am]
freewrites, dreams, memories...

nnylrac
if I had a word
for what I'm feeling
I'd say it.
But there are no words
Nothing that can be said in the face
of confused dreaming
should I fly?
These wings have been clipped
and caged and cut off
only to grow again
in the heartbeat of sounds
that we are creating.

It's complicatedly simple
And simply complicated
that I'm even having this conversation
with myself.

Because, when it comes down to it,
who am I talking to?
A dead language is on the tip of my tongue
with no rosetta stone in sight.
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