• spilled poetry •
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Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
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Another weekend wasted Alone in my room And I don’t think It’s possible To be Any more Dead Than I am Right now.
Slam poetry. Yelling. Angry. Waving my hands a lot. Specific point of view on things. Cynthia. Cyn-thi-a. Jesus died for our Cynthia’s...
Hast du schon mal das Gefühl gehabt an der Liebe zu jemandem zu zerbrechen?
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Sometimes I Wish I Never Took a Women's Studies Class
Sometimes I wish I never took a women’s studies class. How, once I saw the war against us, I could not unsee it. How aware I became of the billboards and their slow twist of my arm. The lipsticks I used to collect, and love, suddenly many-hued bullets. Walking out from the midnight of a movie theatr...
I slit my wrists and ate a bunch of pills, hoping that I’d see you again, but a few days later I woke up in a hospital bed with a head...
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