| In my gallery, my photography is in a separate folder. Most people like my poetry better, but I didn't want to completely get rid of my photos. |


I do not exist.I spend most of my life committing actions to which I feel distinctly separated from. Moments beyond their completion, I have already not done them. The actions belong to someone else promptly after completion. I touch my skin to align my senses with my sense of self, staring at my reflection, pulling at my skin as fake eye contact is held. I rip and tear and bite and pull and tug all with the illusion that I can see myself committing these acts that, within moments, I will not have committed at all.I do not exist.
I walk walk walk and smoke smoke smoke and make a phone call and my arms are cold and my breath is visible, but I didn't do that.


Meet me in New YorkMeet me in New York and help me find a shithole apartment. I just want it to have a kitchen sink; the rest I can make up for. I want a fire escape and stained walls. I want to meet a skinny photographer with a casual heroin addiction. We'll cover my dirty walls up with her photos and I'll cover her chaos with my calm.Meet me in New York
We'd make love on cold winter days to keep warm and I'd make tea afterward, standing cold in my kitchen in a button down and shorts. She'd curl up by the window and smoke a cigarette, the smoke escaping through the opening. The scream of the kettle drawing me near as I prepare to sweeten my cup, I'd whisper old son


To BrakhageHere I am, crying for the grandfather I never knew Education is drawing aspirations of becoming him My admirations to a man apart from, I grew His light in me shines, albeit shines so dimTo Brakhage
To grow to be a tenth of him, my dream's success His power and contention with the art of my time My lineage, unknown to me, does my heart undress Of only a fraction of him, a ladder I intend to climb


CreditsAs a freshman in college, majoring in Film production, I have been faced several times with the realization that my decision may not be entirely practical. It is no secret to me that many of my friends and family members would prefer that I pursue a more conservative career. They wish to see me in front of a chalk board, teaching high school students proper grammar and how to write exquisite pieces. They wish to see me behind a mirror, cutting the hair of middle aged soccer moms. They wish to see me doing nearly anything besides film, a ghastly agenda that will lead straight to a life of penniless hunger.Credits
For a short while, I in
| In my gallery, my photography is in a separate folder. Most people like my poetry better, but I didn't want to completely get rid of my photos. |
by £deviantWEAR
by ~Psychosomaticc| My mouth is a word faucet spilling Rhymes and rhythms pouring out Into your head, my words still drilling But, love, you don't know what this is about If I meant my poetry to be honesty I would address them directly to you I should post a disclaimer with my poetry I write because it doesn't have to be true. |
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idol <3
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i'm the calmest hue of purple
and the dullest shade of gray
~~EmoSunshineMuffin
but very well, nonetheless
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i'm the calmest hue of purple
and the dullest shade of gray
~~EmoSunshineMuffin
Have a pretty heart. Just wanted to say Thank you for your support! Have a nice day,
Jenna x
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