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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Fist Full of Pillsdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rev.jpfadeproof
    ASL Info:    27/m/nyc
    Elite Ratio:    6.23 - 366/349/146
    Words: 430
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 297
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2547



    Description:
       I made a couple corrections since I wrote this in rage and jealousy last night. I don't care to change it anymore. It's raw and really, I just don't care at the moment.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsFist Full of Pillsdots
    -------------------------------------------




    Here’s to a fist full of pills! Tizanadine will have to do! These muscle relaxers with some vodka should go well together.

    I once heard Bukowski describe love as a mad dog from hell? That love has its own torments and pain. It’s odd to me that at this moment Bukowski would come to me as a spirit walking on the waters, my sort of poetic messiah. Our styles couldn’t be more different. Mine in the verbose, grandiose style and his being seething and crude at best.

    My publisher says I need to tear into my raw emotions like Bukowski, as the vicious dog he was; that I should explore the angst form with no restrain as to language, anger and pain…

    FUCK!

    I nearly convinced myself that she actually returned my love. Can you believe that shit? I’m nothing but a filthy bull; a carcass being slowly eaten by maggots; by reality, by that GOD-DAMN Instagram story of her dancing and slithering like a fucking snake, like a fucking teenage GROUPIE! Now that instagram story with the, “I just got plowed” sex hair makes sense. It was the band! That explains the distance and all the apologies. She has been hiding this to protect me… what a pathetic cocksucker I am!

    I guess poets really are suckers. They are pussy’s writing and hoping, hoping and writing, that certain women would return their tender affections. I’m sure the ocean loves the shore, every moment he washes up against her only to be pushed away; time and time again; but for fuck’s sake, I’m no pussy! I’m no ocean! I’m a raging FUCKING MAN! Only a poetess like Sarah Kay would come to the conclusion of the sea’s devotion to the rejecting shore. She’s beautiful and can never understand…

    It’s time to ship out! - I’ve been playing, “she loves me, she loves me lots” for too long. Its time to stare the sun in the face and pack! I’m a master at this shit by now. I’ve stared into the barrenness of this suitcase before; its tattered and tobacco yellow form is all too familiar. This mother fucking heart throbbing is all I’ve fucking known. REJECTION after REJECTION after REJECTION! All the others hurt just a bit, just a while, but this girl? I FUCKING LOVED HER. I truly cared for her.

    AH!

    Fuck it all.
    Here’s to a fist of pills and a long voyage!

    D.C.





    Submitted on 2016-11-19 05:13:54     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      oh yeah..Im not at all suicidal and never have been, but last not i was enraged with jealousy and wrote this and part II in 15 minutes. I wish all poetry can flow so powerfully, at all times like last night.

    Fist full of pills was just coin term and not an attempt to off myself.

    thanx for the comment and concern, but I'm back to my jovial self.

    Btw, I was completely wrong. There's jealousy for you.


    JP
    | Posted on 2016-11-19 00:00:00 | by rev.jpfadeproof | [ Reply to This ]
      That was brutal. Now that it's out of your system (at least in this form) you need to step away and take a deep week long breath. Don't be too hard on yourself; sometimes life bites. Hard. No pills or booze or suicide attempts for you. Just healing. Calm and healing.
    | Posted on 2016-11-19 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]


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