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we are jonathan, franklin, and leanna. we are writing (this month) along the theme "coward."

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    BACON!

    bacon for breakfast
    my heart swells, both with joy and
    dat cholesterol.

    — 5 months ago

    #[ten]  #bacon 
    bottom feeder.

    i wear a
    smile on my
    face and
    people think i’m
    brave or

    something

    but i
    sit below the
    table, just
    waiting to pick up the
    discards scraps of the
    rich and
    famous

    we call it being “thrifty”
    knowing i’m worth more

    working that 9-5 
    paying the bills on time
    watching love pass me by
    quiet on the sideline
    saying everything’s fine

    i’m fine

    — 5 months ago

    #[ten]  #bacon 
    biologically i do possess a spine

    "you are worthless"
    "you have nothing to offer"
    "you are a spineless coward!" 
    noise travels through the ear canal
    swiftly paddling in the turbulent sea of thoughts
    hitting neurons like boulders
    the mind translates
    the abstract to abuse
    the functional movement
    of arms and legs
    of speech and word formation
    are frozen
    the penetrating reality
    there is truth hidden in the pain
    how is worth measured?
    what can be offered?
    in a world that has access to everything
    biologically possessing a spine
    yet lacking the energy
    strangling the courage
    weakening the vertebrae
    "speak up,
    i cannot hear you”
    admit the defeat
    embrace the self loathing pity party
    a facade of humility
    stitched to the blood on the shirt sleeve
    apathy shrouded in empathy
    pathetically producing the words
    "i am a coward"

    — 5 months ago

    #[mo]  #coward 
    sex object.

    my number’s plastered on the 
    bathroom walls

    and they’re right, i guess. i’m a
    damn good time

    sometimes i feel like it’s all i’m
    good for. but i want to be
    beautiful, i want to be
    someone’s first choice, i want
    to be loved.

    i want you to wake up thinking about me, go to
    sleep thinking about me, your sleep to be
    filled with
    dreams of
    me.

    but i’m not the prettiest or the
    smartest or the
    funniest or
    anything cool like
    that.

    but i guess if i get
    out of my bed and
    into the world, someone might
    see me for me and

    i could have more.

    — 11 months ago

    #[ten]  #coward 
    nonfunctional wings make the best deadweight

    sing a song for me
    a lament for a lifeless life
    for i, a sparrow grounded,
    was taught to fear the wings
    that were given to me

    i was taught to regard
    the expanse of the sky
    my inheritance
    my playground
    with fear of unseen dangers
    my own poisoned imagination
    enclosing me in a tomb of earth

    my wings are chains
    that i will never be rid of
    though neglected,
    they will not atrophy
    but remain in perfect form
    as a testimony of waste
    they will simply hang just as lifeless and i am
    ever-present reminders
    that cowardice is never without cost.

    — 12 months ago

    #[va]  #coward 
    mixed signals.

    fingers intertwined, bodies
    tangled together, lips 
    well acquainted, my
    feelings not so
    reciprocated. still, she
    shows me her
    heart before she
    runs for the
    door.

    and she’s beautiful.

    all my insecurities at the
    forefront of my
    mind.

    will she.
    won’t she.

    a million reasons not to, but i
    just
    don’t
    care.

    no calm.
    no comfort.
    no rationality.
    no rest.

    she won’t let me in and she
    won’t let me be.

    — 12 months ago with 2 notes

    #coward  #[ten] 
    gone.

    i was turning into someone
    beautiful, someone i could
    stand to
    look at in the
    mirror and then you
    were gone and i

    was nothing.

    i am little apart from my
    vices, my
    failures, my endless
    shortcomings and
    fondness for the
    bottle.

    pour me a drink so i can
    forget all this, just
    disappear into
    someone else for
    a spell.

    — 2 years ago with 1 note

    #[ten]  #relapse 
    physician, wound thyself.

    in the night
    when all watching eyes are
    fast asleep
    in the corners of the
    deepest night i am
    finally exposed

    i am the celebrity train wreck
    in the making
    i am the beast
    a burden unto myself
    i am the architect
    of self-sabotage
    i cannot prevent
    my own bleed-out

    but you wouldn’t know it
    i make myself
    up so shiny
    when you’re watching
    all smiles and handshakes
    to distract you from
    the soaking bandages as
    i steer you away from
    the blood trail

    you see, i’m
    trying to fix
    myself
    because nothing has ever seemed quite
    right
    or true or holy or clean
    enough

    but somehow
    i keep fooling myself that
    i can make a
    newer, better
    me
    that i can doctor enough
    miracle cures
    to finally be the perfect
    me

    but you don’t see
    the relapse
    behind the velvet curtains

    you don’t see
    the habits
    that won’t bleed
    out of me

    and i scrub
    and i scrub and
    i scrub and i
    just can’t get
    this stench off of me

    and i don’t know what to do

    because we all know by now
    that, if i am left
    to my own devises,
    i will, in fact,
    make myself into
    a version of myself
    that is twice the son of hell
    as before

    — 2 years ago with 1 note

    #[va]  #relapse 
    affair.
    the forbidden kind of
    fruit is so
    much sweeter, so
    alluring

    scandal masked by
    pleasure, just
    a fling, an
    affair

    i want so
    badly for there to be a
    next time, my
    body next to your
    body, hands intertwined
    your lips meet
    mine, so

    intoxicating, so

    very wrong, still
    feels so
    right

    saying goodbye feels so unfair

    i hope i pass you on the street and i
    hope you have found happiness with her and we
    can look at one another with
    smiles in our eyes and
    on our faces, remembering the
    night we shared and

    walk on.

    — 2 years ago

    #[ten]  #relapse 
    i am my own best wrecking ball

    here we go again

    it seems despite my best efforts
    and because of my best efforts

    i have relapsed
    again and again and again

    the view from square one
    so familiar

    every single promise
    vow
    prayer
    petition
    whisper
    is just another link in the chain

    in the catalog of my
    consistent inconsistency
    one thing holds truth to it:

    i am my own best wrecking ball
    my own short-circuit
    walking overload
    stumbling burn out

    and at the end of the day
    i think i move past the start
    just to get the failure over with

    — 2 years ago with 1 note

    #[va]  #relapse 
    everything seems to fall just out of reach.

    for twenty
    seven
    years, i

    waited.

    for you, for something
    real, something
    strong and true and
    lasting

    and it was
    over before it
    began

    leaving me feeling an
    utter failure

    jaded and
    disappointed and
    occasionally angry and
    shattered and
    divorced

    forever might be out there, maybe it’s
    just not for someone like
    me

    — 2 years ago

    #[ten]  #WTF 
    pieces.

    things can fall
    apart so
    quickly

    i have those
    raccoon eyes and i’m
    down ten pounds but they
    say it all gets
    better with time

    please! be as great a healer as
    they all say, because i’ve
    never hurt like this before and i
    need a brighter future to
    look forward to

    — 2 years ago

    #[ten]  #time 
    the dignity of time.

    we’re all so frantic
    so aching and desperate
    strutting and stumbling
    trying to keep
    ourselves from
    falling apart

    we all look after our own
    self-made men and women
    unmade and unraveling
    but keeping up appearances

    because maybe
    just maybe
    if we all run fast enough
    we’ll outpace the pain
    and the sight of
    how hollow we’ve become

    at least that’s what we tell ourselves

    we’re all just trying to
    build up velocity
    to break away
    from the inner world
    of seething hurt
    that festering wound

    but the reality is this
    as we run
    so desperately
    to escape our inner agony
    we’re recklessly trampling
    each other
    in the process
    bumping and pushing
    shoving and abandoning
    it is insanity
    and our hearts display the
    aftermath

    if we’re moving
    so fast
    how can we see
    that we are all
    every one of us
    with no exceptions
    collateral damage
    shattered
    by a spiritual war?

    and how can we see
    that there is a Mender
    who uses all of us
    in the Mending
    of all of us?

    we are comforted
    so that we can comfort
    with the comfort
    we have received
    from the Comforter

    but in our guarded
    scheduled
    perfectly polished
    desperately lonely
    american lives
    that just takes too much time

    because healing is patience
    it is the hug that will stay in place
    long after the tears fall
    it is the silence when words
    are just not enough
    it is hands clasped together
    firmly with resolution
    the reassurance of touch
    that proclaims a heart
    willing to remain for the long haul
    because deep down we know
    we really know
    the consolation we give
    is the consolation we need

    healing is the dignity of time
    for ourselves and for each other
    but it can only happen
    when we stop running
    from ourselves and from each other

    — 2 years ago with 1 note

    #[va]  #time 
    a lengthy train of thoughts on time.

    Do you remember drinking water from the hose on a hot summer day, while running around the neighborhood with your friends? Man those were the days! Summer never seemed to end. The days lasted for months and everything was important yet nothing mattered. Playing G.I. Joe in the back yard. Building with Lego’s past your bedtime cause you have an idea. Drawing the creatures from our imaginations. Dreaming big about becoming a firefighter, astronaut or president, no one told us we couldn’t, they encouraged us. The simple joy of childhood. As kids we had fun, I don’t have very many sad memories as from my childhood.

    Then we transform like the Autobots we used to play with. We gain self-awareness, we care about the dumbest things like clothes and hair and gadgets. We form groups and forget about some of our childhood friends. The teenage years seem to last forever, but not the way they did when we were kids. We just want to become adults and drive cars and have sex. Funny how I seem to only remember the bad things from these years.

    Next stage is different for people, so much so that some people never grow out of the post-high school slump. Adulthood comes and we don’t know what to do. Some go off to college and become doctors and lawyers, others start families and still others just continue to crave becoming an adult and sex and waste away years acting like sixteen. The problem with my generation is that most of us are stuck here. This stage should only last from eighteen until about twenty two or so, but some of my generation are twenty seven and still lost. An insecure teenager stuck in the body of an adult.

    The problem here is that the stage of twenty five to fifty is the stage of adulthood. When we become society. We will get elected to Washington, we will discover new medicines and scientific breakthroughs that will make our child and grandchild’s lives easier. Yet we don’t know how to be adults. Maybe I’m speaking to the boys out there, but I would surmise that even the girls out there have a similar problem. We grew up in single parent homes. We had to teach ourselves stuff we didn’t even know we had to learn.

    As little kids we didn’t know the world was horrible so we lived in bliss, never realizing it would ever end. I honestly believe I had a happy childhood, yet why is it that when I think of my youth I want to cry? I guess because I want to go back and just enjoy the simplicity of those years. Then again when I think of my teenage years I want to cry as well, but it is for regret of lost years. I wish I could go back and make more wise choices. And now here I am in that middle stage between teenager and adult. I feel stuck in limbo, I’m sure once I get out of this stage I’ll look back on it and want to cry and probably out of regret. I know I could have used these years much more efficiently.

    I am concerned for the children of my generation. I have a young son, and when I think about him I want to cry. He is a beautiful creature, wild and free and living ignorant to the pains of life. The problem is, I don’t know how to capitalize on his youth and make it the best for him. I don’t know how to be a father, no one taught me. I feel like a failure most days, yet the funny thing is my son keeps smiling and asking me to play with him. He loves me unconditionally, even though I keep screwing up. And he keeps growing up and I keep feeling like I’m wasting time doing other things than spending it with him. Sure when he looks back at his childhood he’ll probably be like me and think it was happy and good. I know when I look back on his childhood I’ll cry and wish I could have my little boy back. I say this as he is still a little boy who just wants me to tell him stories before he goes to bed. He’s my best friend.

    It amazes me how short life is and also how simple it is. It is a series of cycles, a bunch of choices that when put together make up our lives. I for one make mostly bad decisions and then regret them later. But we can’t go back in time, so maybe regret is a useless trait of humans. Like many have said, just learn from your mistakes and your past. Yet I tend to repeat my history, and I am not very good at planning my future. Life is just a few short years on earth, maybe between 70-80 years or more if your lucky. You struggle for thing and wish and plan for that. I forget sometimes that right now is my life! Life wont begin when I get the nice house and car one day, these hard times are also my life. The other thing is that as we grow old and die our child are entering the world and beginning to discover who they are and what they want to do to occupy their time on earth. And then they will be us and their children will be them and we will be dead.

    I’m not an old man yet, I’m barely twenty six, so I have no clue what it’s like to be old. I imagine it will be interesting. You know you only have a few years left to live, and yet you have all the wisdom you’ve acquired throughout your life. You are really just then getting started. I am just guessing this, but if I look at my dad who has a wealth of knowledge yet probably only a few years left, he could write a book and we could all learn a thing or two from him. But he is just enjoying his remaining years with his wife and I don’t blame him, just saying it would be an interesting place to be. At least I know I have a few more years to screw up and try to get it right. When you’re an old man you don’t have much time to make mistakes.

    When I think of growing old I get sad and want to cry. I think about my parents and miss my childhood when I could just ask them to kiss my scratched knee to make me feel better. When they were my strength and comfort. As an adult I have to be my son’s strength, but sometimes I still wish someone were mine. I also think about how one day they will die and know I will miss them. I will miss the nights we sat around as a family and played games and laughed, the memories I will never forget yet wish I could remember better. I love to look at old pictures yet I hate that they are just a frozen time capsule that can never be returned to, except for in our minds and our minds distort things.

    We all want a happy life, but I don’t think that is possible. We get the life we live. The one based on the choices of our parents and then on the choices we make thereafter. There are moments of happiness and sadness. There are times of great joy and of great sorrow. But all we have is the moment we are in, right now. At some point in our lives we will stop breathing and absolutely nothing we owned or said will matter, we will die and those living will miss us. Our children will cry and remember us the way they will. And they will continue with their life and choices and they too will one day die and at this point we will be but a name to our grandchildren and great grandchildren.

    I think the more you analyze life you more simple it becomes. Death is what is complicated, because we don’t know anyone who is dead. Every religion and ideology has an idea about what happens after death. Atheists believe there is no God therefore we just disappear and nothing happens when we die. Yet if this is true than I see no point in living, because it means that everything is completely pointless, that there is no reason to do anything. I have always believed a Christian version of the afterlife. If I have that wrong than I hope it is at least some form of heaven, although every version of heaven is different depending on the religion. I like the Christian idea of eternity with God.

    Eternity is a scary thought and has always made me emotional. It is because I simply am a human and cannot fathom anything that isn’t measured by something. And the beauty of the Christian eternity is that it gives our human lives a purpose. It isn’t so much that we get our slot in heaven and then do whatever we please, it is about being a good person and sharing this joy and peace with others. If you knew how to get a million dollars for free from a source that was willing to give it to anyone who asked, wouldn’t you tell everyone you knew? That is a bad example because eternity with God will be much better than a million dollars.

    I wish I could be a kid again and it makes me sad. I just want to cuddle with my mom and dad and live a simplistic life again, let them worry about all the grown up stuff. But who knows, they might wish they could be kids again too. I wish I could go back to my teenage years knowing what I know now and prepare myself better for adulthood. I wish I could go back to my child’s birth and be a better father from the beginning. I wish for a lot but I don’t have a magic genie and even if I did my list is longer than just three.

    I hope that from this day forward I will live my life more productive. I hope to be a better father and I hope to be a strong man when I finally become an adult one day. I hope when I’m an old man I will look upon my life as being a success. I hope to not have too many regrets. I hope for a lot of things, but the only hope I have that I know to be true is that when I die I will spend my afterlife with my Creator. As much as I love my parents, they are just screw ups like me and everyone else. But my Creator fashioned me the way I am because that is how He wanted me to be.

    [mo]

    — 2 years ago

    #[mo]  #time 
    for the want of a broken clock.

    i am spent
    utterly completely
    totally absolutely
    at my end
    with a lap full
    of prayers
    whose cost
    i cannot afford

    all i have is time,
    that fickle, fleeting
    friend
    that foe
    who speeds up
    to send joy away
    quickly
    then slows to
    prolong
    despair

    what i would give
    to break the hands
    of the clock
    to stop and breathe
    to live in a moment
    of silence
    to squeeze out
    the contentment
    in a moment of quiet
    of calm
    and be centered
    and rooted
    in the blink of an eye
    where no tear emerges
    from the pain
    of a broken heart

    [va]

    — 2 years ago with 1 note

    #[va]  #time