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I want someone to slap me
And chop off my head
I hope it's painful
And that it will continue to be painful for the few minutes before I am dead
My friend is mad at me and so I wanna die so bad rn. Just sitting in the car unable to breathe or stop crying. What the **** is wrong with me?
“have there been any safety concerns
since last week?”
“no,” i lie,
hoping she doesn’t
see the truth
sitting heavy in my eyes.

“have there been urges?”
“yes,” i say,
truthfully,
but like i’m afraid she’ll flinch.

“why don’t you act on them?”
“because i’m not allowed to anymore.”
it was the truth,
just wrapped in a lie.

she smiles.
“that’s adorable.”
~
Enter the lair

Of a cloudless grenadine

Misty branches of sun

On the outer marker

And in their place

A strawberry moon

~
Ill watch the bees in the clover and my daughter play in the sand,
Ill play music with my friends and
bask in the sun-
I might even let myself have a little fun
But the moon will rise and
night will quiet
I'll reset my house and
my heart will riot
She wants to say things and
express her emotions,
while yes I too want to feel love-
I'm tired of drowning in it's oceans
It's my fault for being so restrained
The day’s hours were worn down and a sudden sunset, that
resembled a master’s painted glimpse of Valhalla was upon
us, its majesty of deepest blue, blood red and black.

From our tenth-floor skew, the river looked, for all,
like a wrinkled sea expecting a storm. Boats moved
to tie up before the dark body of windswept clouds arrived
trailing a wall of downpour and flickering, electric thunder.

Our study group had run over, as they tend to do. Most of the
members urgently moved to pack up (they’d be campus bound).
An unpropitious rumble and fierce flare of light, revealed that mild
twilight had swiftly faded to a darkest stormy night.

My pinched-pleated curtains thrashed before this tempest for
the almanacs, feigning a life they do not possess, like twin ghosts
stured to wrath.
“I can order in,” I offered, waving a menu from the downstairs bistro,
as I closed my glass doors. “Why not eat here and wait it out?”
I shrugged, “My treat,” and offered, “and I have wine.”

A pleasant embracement of relief and consent followed. What held
more power, I wondered, the society, natures coerce or the gratis fare?

Later. as we parted, a young man paltered, repaying me with a quick hug and cheeky kiss. The valueless touch, was itself rewarded with a small smile, but the sin did not overset the mood.
.
.
Songs for this:
Riders on the storm by the doors
Stormy by Classics IV
A man, dejected
with a broken heart,
snapped all the ties
from his world,
roamed about places
one to the next
in search of peace.

One day he found himself
in a distant Fairy Land.
The fairies were surprised
to find him amongst them.
One fairy asked him
what he wanted.
Taken aback by the question
he said ,"A new heart."
The fairy said,"Don't worry, we do have a heart shop."
She took him there.
There he saw all kinds of hearts-
Some made of gold, some of silver,
and some normal too.

In another corner he saw
a collection of broken hearts
beautifully kept.
Out of curiosity he asked the fairy
why they kept those broken hearts.
She smiled and said,
"They are the epic story tellers."
Amazed by her words,
he left with his broken heart
back to his world.
One day, I was sitting idle,
feeling so lost, so lonely,
wishing for a friend
who would sit by me,
listen to me and make me smile.

A thought crossed my mind-
why not create a new friend?
So I decided to create one.

I took out my paints, brushes,
and a pristine canvas.
I painted a portrait of a girl.

Flowing hair, gentle eyes and
a beautiful calming smile.
I named her Ayliz (The Moon).

Now, every time I feel
lonely and sad,
I speak to her,
and she silently listens.
Her smile has healing power -
it makes me feel better.
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