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I'm so far behind this month! Eek! Blunt is a word that I know well. And somehow I'm shit at executing it at will. It simply spills out of me like a spell, to exact a spiritual wound on the one who dared to cross me. I find myself holding back a lot of the time. I'm a people pleaser to the point of taking abuse and seething silently in mental distress until it's too late. I explode and somehow I'm always the one left looking like the fool even if it's justified. It's the cross that I bear every…

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Chopping up a creative nonfiction essay, visually. Hope you like it! this is a story about how pop music gave me life Photo by Kym MacKinnon on Unsplash get ur kicks on route 66 For as long as I can remember, music has been the driving force in the development of my identity as I know it. When reflecting on why music had such a death grip on me over the years is because I realized that I literally had no identity of my own. I never really came into understanding who I was and where I was meant to…

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Playing around with visual poetry today. Enjoy! heartache in verse Trade we go marching one by one into this world of man's creation who demands that we trade our time for cash but not to support our hopes, dreams no, no don't take the pennies from him, he earned it, not you simply by being on top Photo by Visual Stories || Micheile on Unsplash Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash Photo by Lukas Blazek on Unsplash that house you dream of sits waiting for capital a mortgage so you can say it's yours but you're drowning under paper from…

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"It doesn't matter what it costs," he said, smiling broadly. "You deserve it." He returned the smile but the feelings of warmth couldn't keep his brain from cringing. He couldn't quite place why he felt that way. This gorgeous man wanted to spoil him. Why was he so averse to it? He deserved happiness, did he not? "I'm tempted to ask you what's wrong, but I know you won't tell me the truth," he said, peering at the menu. "How did you know?" he asked. "Bill, I could cut the waves of tension coming from you with a lightsaber." "I'm…

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She had mental tasks to knock off her list before she left the house with her Golden retriever, Chester. Garage door opener in case the keypad didn't open. A spare poop bag. Her cell phone. Her earbuds. The walking leash with the attached fanny pack cinched to her thick waist. Her old-school Asian grandma would appreciate the meat on her bones. Meant they were well-off in their culture. Too bad it didn't attract anyone cuter than a seven. The weather was cool. That meant a light hoodie. Slim-fit black sweatpants. She hated the feeling of cold ears so she had…

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You feel like home to me / when I feel invisible / when I have nothing left to give I would do anything / to strengthen your smile / let me carry you Embrace you, my sweet / we can take on the world / they ain't ready Wish I knew you / when i was young / shenanigans we'd perpetrate From New York / to San Francisco / and back again.

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I'm a few days behind, my bad. It's been one of those weekends where time doesn't exist and the next thing you know, it's Monday. Elizabeth Olsen as Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch saying "just a case of the Mondays" (credit: I type out a forward slash para to activate the paragraph block in WordPress, only to realize that today is Monday though I was supposed to submit this for Saturday. The weekend. Forty-eight hours. The length of time that we've outgrown, the days determined by our ancestors as fair when kids were a viable source of labor in…

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"You don't look so good," she stated. The sweat pooled in the small of his back, warming the tailbone he nearly broke last year. "Yeah?" he asked. His tone was light, passive. Every sinew in his body was demanding that he become confrontational. "Yeah, you feeling okay?" "Maybe I could just take a seat; my heart's a little," he offered. He mimed the erratic rhythm of the ventricles in his barreled chest with his left hand. "Ooh yeah, go ahead, we don't need you right now," she said, shooing him back. He stared blankly at the space between his present…

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Perfect timing Blank spots Blink, blink Sorrowful pound Downtown underground Flounder Bloodstream Outside meaning Tip-tap Cold snap Closing time Appropriate manner Centered verse Mystery spot Embraceable you Expungeable me Hummingbird breath Morpheme Express yourself

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Here I am, you say Here you go, I say Here's to you, they say Easy like Sunday morning Electromagnetic, drawn to truth Extraordinarily prim This is how it goes This is why you do you Thanks to love Ready for the world Ready for the bounce Ready for the needle A lark A spark A disembark Don't say you believe me Don't say you cherish me Don't admit it's the underlying thread

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I'm keeping this prompt thing going in February! Only this time, my writing exercises are influenced by the Writer. I feel like more stuff comes gushing out of me when I do prompts. As long as someone lays it out for me, I'll do it! This is what it meant to decay like a child with consumption in a Victorian novel set on the moors of England. Her entire world was crumbling beneath her feet, and she wasn't sure where else to go. He hadn't said a word since yesterday. How can someone act so nonchalantly with the venom of…

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How do you feel when you look at the stars?

Writers tend to get emotional when we talk about looking at stars, right? In that vein, I feel small when I look at stars. I wonder how many people have made a wish on the same star that I have. And if their wishes came true for them. And if theirs came true, is there room enough for me to have my mine come true? Or is there some hard and fast rule that if you wish on a star, it can only grant a wish for one person in all of history? That's when their light get snuffed out.…

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