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my mind in poems

42 posts

Sinking, SlippingWhy Do I Always Plop Right Down Into What Sucks Me Up And Absorbs Any Remnant Of Joy?My

Sinking, slipping Why do I always plop right down into what sucks me up and absorbs any remnant of joy? My bed is a monster, it eats me up every day It pulls me down like a magnet, I can’t resist it like iron can’t resist metal I’m sick of it, hate it, wish I could burn it Never need it again But why do I choose it over everything every time? When I’m driving I’m flying But the whole time I’m looking forward to the sweet, sweet relief of my bed I don’t need to try anymore, there’s nothing I need to give It’s a problem, a compulsion, an addiction I riddle my mind with tasks so the dependency is less important Who cares if you’re creating, if you’re producing? But I know it’s not normal to be horizontal more often than straight I need to toughen up, strengthen up, get a stronger back, thicker skin But I cozy up in my bed with the promise of another day Another time I try But it’s haunted, my bed My thoughts are never worse than when I’m in its sheets Coaxed into my personal hell I’m sick of it, sick of it forever It needs to be burned, exorcised From every nightmare, every ghost That plagues my thoughts and jeers at my passions I just want a reset. A point where I don’t have to feel. A place where I don’t have to exist. But it turns out not existing is painful and exhausting. I must keep existing, keep doing, all day, every day. I must keep moving. Faster and faster. I have to stay ahead.

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masculinity is the same thing that hurt me and that will protect me

it splintered off bone and it’s what will piece me back togetherΒ 

it’s what tattered my envelope and what will hide me in the rain

because the wrong men hurt me, the wrong men cut me

but the right men heal me, the right men love me

the right men shelter me

like i never could

and i am safeΒ 

in their arms


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