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This Is Ape Shit

You know, no one ever tells you

that losing control is hard work,

It’s not something you can just do

Because the results can be catastrophic.

Losing control takes a certain skill

To know when it’s okay to let go

Without fucking up your entire life.

But see, that’s not really losing control

When you premeditate WHEN to lose it.

My sister always tells me to loosen up, live a little,

To loosen the bridle once in a while.

To her I ask:

Woman, when is this ‘while’ you speak of?

And where can I find it?

If I find it and don’t stumble across it,

Does it still count as letting go?

Since I went seeking for it?

Does going ape shit count as losing control?

WHAT IS ‘LOSING CONTROL’?!

Like I said losing control is hard work,

(Partially probably because I don’t know what it MEANS exactly)

Even my self control, which has been putting in 24 hours a day

Everyday- religiously, thinks so.

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Literal Rambling, Literally

Wise eyes mean nothing

If in a moment your immaturity shines through.

You talk a great talk and walk a great walk

But bring you something serious

And there lies the panic, painfully plain,

All the polish in the world can’t hide the inner kid.

But still you try,

You polish your face, Till it shines,

You polish your brain,  Till it smarts.

You polish your feelings, Till they numb.

But they don’t numb,

They brood under the surface

Waiting for that first crack

In the polish surface

Through which to seep.

And you know what?

Fucking let it,

Let your face be myriad of emotions

Your brain a jumble of nerves

You feelings an emotional conduit

Cause honestly

Polish is overrated

And the wise eyes

Are wise cause they see

Behind every polished facade

Is a shit storm you can’t wait to meet.

 

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Stuck on you

There’s a room full of people

But I am stuck on you.

And I get it.

I get how you feel now,

Like you’re sorry that you don’t care

But you don’t.

I watch you and I get mad

For not looking away

For still caring.

And I can’t hate you

Because I get it.

I get the feeling of wanting to care

But not caring, the same way.

Such a stupid game we play

Him stuck on me,

Me stuck on you,

You stuck on her

And she stuck on he.

None of us care

But I get it

And wonder for how much longer

Will I be stuck on you.

 

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Playing

We are puzzle pieces

That don’t belong together

But I keep pushing

But I keep losing.

It’s frustrating.

 

You remember

The feeling?

Of trying to put

A circle into a square?

That’s what it

Feels like.

Like I am on the

Wrong side.

For trying to do this.

 

There’s no real reason

For me to keep you.

But it’s like my pride

Has made it

Its mission.

 

My world would be better

If I stop with you.

But I keep playing

I keep saying,

There is something.

When there is nothing.

You aren’t my puzzle piece.

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Rather not

Sometimes I catch a glimpse

Of who I have become

And I hate it.

I hate this part

Where between right and wrong

I stay paralyzed,

Unable to make a choice

Because fear and insecurity plague me.

I don’t want to feel. 

I really don’t want to feel.

Feeling makes me do things

I rather not do,

Be things I rather not be.

And I rather not be

If the person I glimpse in the mirror

Is who I am meant to be.

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Take Care

It hurts for a little, smarts even, when someone throws away your heart. It screams in its ribcage and slams against it, again and again.  Raw and bloody it bleeds, over and over, till it feels like no blood is left. Everything has been drained. Then miraculously, it heals. Scab-covered and beaten it resumes, with heartbeats resolute. The ribcage that restrained it becomes its protector…forever keeping it safe…as long as it remembers not to care.