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poetrybyjames · 6 months
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i'll be sleepwalking in my boots till i'm like this forever. a dream of a boy in my bed, or maybe just a whisper of him, and a sky full of stars. maybe being content happens when you you stop wanting something deeper, but i never figured out how to do that without stopping trying too. in the summer's sunset we are sleepy and sore. darling, how could you ever stop wanting something more?
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poetrybyjames · 7 months
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poetrybyjames · 10 months
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a beer on an empty stomach, then a walk through foreign streets. i don't even know if i would want his body against mine, really, but i love it in the way one loves precious ornaments that break.
another city, my same round face. i could be someone different here, or i could be even sadder. something to push against always got me going, what to do when there's nothing idyllic about a haven?
i'll smash you, crash you. i'm trying like i did a couple times before. there's birds on these streets, starting to swarm.
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poetrybyjames · 2 years
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why won't you have sex already
reality is sticky
and hard to touch.
you dream of shouting,
cutting red lines into your arms, and betrayal,
and do laundry when you wake in an attempt to forget.
small songs you hum, tattoos that you love/hate. sewing up the fractures then ripping them open.
you're in the belly of the beast, but see, without it you're nothing
no
thing
but
a cat that'll eventually die, a friend that'll eventually change
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poetrybyjames · 2 years
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weekend by james stewart
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poetrybyjames · 2 years
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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oh, let’s try being alive in the morning for a while
it could make you feel good for real this time
it could heal
the grasshopper cracks, the
paper cuts
the silly words he shouted
but listen-
i didn’t sleep and i’d do it again
all for the three of us, and that carpet
‘cause it stitched together these insignificant rips i’ve been carrying ‘round
and here i am, crying,
cause i’m the same
when everything else has changed
but if you let me on your porch for another summer
i’ll be alright,
and i know
i’ll feel nostalgia for this pain too, some day soon
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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the dream state has hit so now i come alive
no more feeling empty inside
how many ghosts did it take for you to understand you were thirsty
understand you were aching
tattoo a dime into your skin & keep reading
things hurt
things feel like growing up
a million times
puking your guts out until you feel numb
asking for more understanding
and then some
sense of purpose
god you're worthless
no-good stoner loser anxious freak
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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a couple sleepless nights, time enough for me to sketch out the faces that have been haunting me and then return to numbing myself. just a few more days and it'll be over, i kept saying, all year long, until the flowers on the balcony rotted and everyone else moved on from being nineteen. i'd just like the atmosphere to feel right, so drive me to the sea side, and drown me in the salt-water spray.
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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and yet
it hurts so badly that
i lie in bed for three days
i want to hurt everyone who ever tried loving me
i implode, explode, just to see the smashed up pieces (a result)
i make myself nauseous & deny myself water
because, because, because
and yet
i get out of bed on the the third day and make it
i give myself water
i stand in a shower with my eyes squeezed shut
i read a little, do the dishes, text back one or two of the people who love me
(and yet)
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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bang!
you are a man
and these are things, just things
made for you to vanquish, and lord over, and cry over, and fail at
after a while i freaked out because she had no idea the effect that girl had on me
and maybe i was just a monotone, selfish teenager
only living for my drugs
but fuck her! fuck them! fuck the system!
that was easier, after all
easy and smooth, rivers of secondhand smoke and blaring music
running fast as you can, tv shows with sex, lying on the floor & texting dealer boys
we are not okay; we’re fine.
my youth has been a brilliant stereotype and i’m sorry yours wasn’t
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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sorry by james stewart
in other times
i’ll treat myself like somebody’s son,
like a prince
microwave the pasta bowl and
eat in on a placemat
stir the matcha into the milk
tenderly, with love
trying to say sorry for
everything i did to myself before
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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email god, church is closed by james stewart
how will we react when we come across judgement day in a computer screen
neon highlights and virtual memories that feel like dreams
a capitalist disconnect full of light, sex and colour
what if we met god there, would you falter
because we all want it to look right, we all want to feel lighter
when prayer becomes digital
will you falter, will you falter
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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little brother by james stewart
so i’ve got my big brother’s old duvet now
just like i used to wear
his old hoodies, hood up real cool, to school
but no amount
of childlike innocence
will make me my mother’s son
so i’ll spend another night alone, traversing galaxies in my bedroom, feel small and scared, but safe, at least this time.
the solar system is just a place for little boys to wonder, and i never got to go.
i got thrust into the adult desires of manhood, drugs and sex, shining lights and feelings of entitlement and ambition
the duvet is getting ripped up, but i want my head underneath one last time,
chasing the feeling of a solar system
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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⋆ all poetry by james stewart
⋆ reblog, don’t repost
⋆ main blog
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poetrybyjames · 3 years
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oh honey i’ll
do for you what i did for me
turn the oven on in winter so we’re warm
bathe you when you’ve been in bed for days
draw hearts on your to-do lists so you feel like
there’s love behind the obligations
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