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Submitted on
February 18, 2009
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4 (who?)
im peeling the soles off my feet but
everything is still strange and absent and
imaginary when im walking all over it. these
things fingers are all blood and
loose telling you, these things
happen and they're are always watching you through
a peephole with the kind of eyeballs that
turn into a doorknob and lock you in before
you know it.this is irrelevant and it
makes me poetic.


this morning i was in the
toilet, singing and imagining that im
at a party with all your friends watching me.
none of them was taking pictures of me. no one
told me i remind them of someone famous.i was ugly
with tufts of hair missing and no one was getting me a
drink and they were staring as though im a tortured
polar bear and they're copious amounts
of greenhouse gases. these things happen and


they make me a little crazy, a little edgy and suicidal but
all of it it also makes me majorly i start seeing
stars all over my body and the walls and the bedsheet and i
start trying to lick them off and i dont know what
the hell is going on so i decide to write about it.
but i cant, and it makes me feel like my heart
needs to piss. like i'm walking into a
new city with no wind, no sun, no plants and
nothing to grow into.


when you were talking about
edges and love and perfectness and love and flames
and love, i thanked you because you wouldnt have
me talking about it too. you dont care. im a huge big black
box of garbage and eagles swoop down to snip the last of
my words. this makes you happy and you leave.these


things happen and then we start
writing about how the world must be a peephole
into something huger,more sinister, with
more of a menstrual sense of humour.about how
large amounts of illegal drugs and some
amount of real death would really help. about how
being alone actually makes us stretch our limbs as far as
they'd go, and not just curl up and die. about how
nothing can be salvaged once we start doing this- we
start touching everything as though we're some dusty old
memory,the athlete's foot, or a shard of broken glass.
title:these things happen and they make me poetic.

BECAUSE IM JUST VERY PRETENTIOUS AND NOT EVEN REMOTELY POETIC and also because my board exams are coming to get me but thats irrelevant.
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vespera Featured By Owner May 27, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
none of them was = none of them were

it makes me feel like my heart
needs to piss.

I like this part a lot
weevilgirl Featured By Owner May 27, 2009  Student General Artist
designed-devil Featured By Owner May 1, 2009  Professional Filmographer
that much cynicism would've killed
me if you hadn't slapped me
with those kisses of humour...
but these things happen.

That much love would've killed
you if you hadn't chanced me
in the silence of your pain...
but like you say,
these things happen on a sunny day,
in the orange of the night,
with Test O 'Sterone in a cat fight.

These things happen when,
inspiration strikes an unconditioned mind,
during an eclipse in a dreamers den,
while the pretends to be blind.

'Tis true...
these things happen,
when the mind wanders.

Thank you for the inspiration. my :heart: and this lil' attempt goes out to you. :hug:
weevilgirl Featured By Owner May 5, 2009  Student General Artist
oh my. :)

im glad i could inspire something like this at all :heart:
designed-devil Featured By Owner May 5, 2009  Professional Filmographer
i'm glad you're an inspiration. been looking for it for very long. :lonely:
but thanks :heart:
weevilgirl Featured By Owner May 5, 2009  Student General Artist
i've lost mine somehow :(
designed-devil Featured By Owner May 5, 2009  Professional Filmographer
lets not go on about loosing inspirations. its not been a very peaceful day for me. :(
synapticriot Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2009
After treading on volatile hormones and vague societal obligations, I found the giant leap into the third stanza the most impressive.

You gaze at the sky, long enough for your vision to burn out and then you tap your feet and shoot into a distant twinkle.

LOVED the peephole-pupil-doorknob analog in the first stanza.

Invent a box, so you can think outside of it.
fragilesilence Featured By Owner Feb 19, 2009  Hobbyist Photographer
weevilgirl Featured By Owner Feb 20, 2009  Student General Artist
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