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untitledI fall at the side lines
I don't have the right mind
I don't have the high time
Chalked in thick and white
But the darkest ink
The darkest sinking
The darkest thinking
A scratch made at the corner is a plea
For some misguidance
Burned my hand
The dusty separation
In my mind
And of my broken joints
My mutilated spine
I am a corrosive artery of your dreams that sets my head on fire in a production of rehearsed escapes and mistakes played out in systematic melodrama for my torture and painful demise of conscious peace.
Freedom is what I want for you in a world where my poisonous essence of desperate television emotion cannot reach out above my encumbered head. I think it's made of tears without blood supply, a hamster wheel of paradoxica that plays the same overheard song again in a silent loop of supersonic screaming, or maybe it's the static of your radio that you never hear due to its unending presence in your beautiful head.
In either sense I a
A Reason to LiveIf only she had the guts to actually do it, to just leap among the cold waves and sink in death among the fish. She breathed in the smell and taste of saltwater, and water sprays hit her face, neck, and chest. She shivered slightly in the breeze from the waves, but she wasn’t really bothered by the chill. What weighed on her mind was something much deeper than the weather.
A pang of apprehension penetrated her heart as she envisioned her body being plunged into the water and weighted down by the strong waves. She thought about what it would be like to gulp in mouthful after mouthful of water, choking and never feeling any relief, b
Do you know the taste of the universe?One day, when you’re five years old and made out of fractured sunlight and mirror shards, you sit down on the bench of the MAX train. You’re dressed in your winter coat and boots that are too big and one of your parents has pulled your hat too close over your ears.
You’re sitting next to your mother, and on the other side is a man that smells like loneliness, something that you’ll later know as cigarettes and alcohol and homelessness. He’s crying quietly into the top of his jacket and you’re scared to look because you’ve never seen an adult cry.
The train ride goes on for five minutes, which is a lo
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More