Ceramic Dreams

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My skin is porcelain, ceramic dreams draped in white that find themselves hanging from my back weighing in on my spine and a pool of downward spiraling self-confidence glued under my eyes/dark circles personified.

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Stand By The Soda Machine

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Darling we have been killing brain cells for way too long, blowing clouds of feelings unfiltered and so raw yet we still find ourselves blinded by the concept of better days and a reality in which we are less likely to end up burning out like cigarettes or worse we face the inevitable completely sober. Continue reading

I Built A Home Between Airplane Rides Across The World

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By the age of thirteen I had been in six different schools, staying in each for up to three years at the most. It wasn’t because I was bullied or because I couldn’t make any friends but it was rather because my family just moved around a lot. Along with every school that changed so did the house we lived in and the street I had grown familiar to or the neighbors that were always nice. Continue reading