Unclassified

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the night walk to the slaughterhouse

I walked down elegant avenues late at night, with heart beats beating in the sole of my feet as I crushed the heart a little more, each step further each time the rubber hit the tarmac

My name is Jimmy

My name is Abigail I eat eggs for breakfast I wear a dar red, on both my lips and a thick black line on my eyelid I know the meaning of hurt, and grief thus my eyes are lined

Relapse

She walked into the kitchen Her eyes set on the scale The monster that had been slowly defeating her for weeks She was doing good this week Eating Exercising Sleeping The urge had gone away

How I feel

This is how I feel.

Time Wasted

What the hell am I doing? Why do I feel like a freaking criminal? Can I be legally punished for this?

Poem

When will the summer come our way then stay till late September. Winter clothes in attic's and summer dress's down. When will our boots be out with heels and flip flops in.
Cherry

Boatman

He smokes his pipe Next to a yellow light He can see his reflection On the brass ornament He reads an old tale From a tired book As he strokes the lines On a travelled face

Thunderstorm

Angry and calming all at once

Unnamed

You got a lot uglier up close.

Oral

There is a dull ache in the back of my jaw, on the left side, so dull that I sometimes doubt its reality, but it manages to occupy my mind with annoying persistence.