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I mean, I just wanna party


Delta flight 193, JFK to DEN | Ken Arkind

babybirch:

1.
I still have naked pictures of you.
I want you to know that.
I want to start this off right.

2.
As I am writing this, the cat that you hate is peeing on the bed.
that is what will be waiting for me instead of you.

3.
I keep asking the same questions because I always get drunk right after we talk,
and I can’t remember any of your answers.

4.
I could decide not to drink,
but you know how I feel about not drinking.

5.
I miss your moan.
it was one of my 3 favorite things about you.

6.
You broke up with me the night before the national poetry slam finals.
It’s sad how few people understand how shitty that is.

7.
When you start to cry,
I know that you’re feeling something,
which makes me like you again.

8.
Dream:
Climbing through endless bodies,
sweaty and writhing and inside of each other,
I can see,
but not the source of light,
just the skin it’s reflecting off of,
we find each other,
ignore the rest,
clinging to each other,
the bodies straighten beneath us,
go slick from the sweat,
like a bowling lane,
we make love till I wake up.

9.
I keep trying to find out if you cheated on me.

10.
I never cheated on you.

11.
I think the guy sitting next to me on the plane is sleeping with you,
that’s why he doesn’t like me.

12.
So is the stewardess,
you guys are going to have a threesome tonight.

13.
Every time I am not looking directly at you
you are having a threesome.

14.
When we talk on the phone,
your other hand is holding a penis.

15.
The penis is bigger than my penis.

16.
All of your previous lovers cheated on you because you made them feel this way.

17.
I never cheated on you.

18.
I’m sorry I yelled at you.

19.
You deserved it.

20.
Dream:
looking from the outside in to my bedroom at my grandparent’s house,
the one I was always scared to sleep in,
the room is dark,
I can hear your moan,
not the rustle of the sheets or bodies slapping together or voices talking,
just your moan,
I can’t move,
there is no light,
just the open door and your moan.

21.
This airplane is not bringing me home,
it is simply dropping me off somewhere else.

22.
When I get to the apartment,
I will look that cat dead in the eye,
and tell him that he is the reason why mommy left daddy.

23.
Some of my friends pretend to hate you now,
that’s why I love my friends.

24.
When the plane lands this will all be my fault.

25.
In New York,
the sun sets like the sun should set.
in Denver,
it takes far too long.
The glow is unbearable,
like the whole sky is covered in sheets,
the day threatening to start with or without you.


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bodiesmakehomes:

"This…is my story. So read me. Because all I have left to give you boy, are these leftover pieces of ugly.”

So at night…when you cry, I hold my ear to your belly and pretend that I am listening to the sounds of the ocean.

Ken Arkind- For Wes

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An Experiment in Noise in A Sharp Major - Ken Arkind

grumpyfemme:

This is not a heart,
it’s a volume knob.
You turn it one way when you wish to scream,
you turn it one way when you wish to whisper.
It is a gift,
and carries much weight with it,
your chest can feel as heavy as an ocean,
there is more than enough silence beneath the surface for you to drown in.

Be careful,
it is a weapon and can hurt people,
their ears will not be ready for your anthem.
Speak with purpose,
sound without shape is static,
and you were not born a dead channel.

You,
were born screaming.
Does music belong to the instrument or the ears that hear it?
If one receives a gift it belongs to them and not the gift giver,
so when you tell someone your name,
does it still belong to you?

Branches
Violin strings,
The wind
A bow.
Music notes
Hummingbirds,
Ear drums
Flowers.
Epithets
Shotguns,
Humans
Targets.

This is not a heart,
it’s a volume knob.
That makes your veins wires.
If your veins are wires,
then your limbs are speakers,
if your limbs are speakers,
then movement is a song.

Running,
Song.
Dancing,
Song.
Kissing,
Song.
Fighting,
Song.

So choir many many choirs,
holy holy little fists.
Leave the world dancing in your headphone dust,
drenched in speaker sweat,
covered in eardrum graffiti,
and invite them all into your sonic temple.

alone.
you.
are.
just.
one.
word.
Together you make a sentence.
Together you have purpose.

This is not a heart,
it’s a volume knob.
With it you can sing (many many) songs.

Joy.
Acceptance.
Humility.
Forgiveness.
Fear.
Loneliness.
Pride.
Hate.
Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.

Remember that refrain when the waves come,
(they will come)
they will try and mute you,
they will try and drown you with their,
talking
talking
talking
talking
talking.

They will try to sharpen your bones.
They will try to sharpen your shoulder blades.
They will try to convince you to cleave off your wings,
by shrugging from the weight of them.
That the burden is too much to carry,
that you deserve silence.
They will try and deafen you,
They will try and deafen you by firing their,
guns
guns
guns
guns
guns.

Put your guns away our weapon’s in our chests.
Your body is an arsenal.
Your gut a foxhole.
Your lungs magazines.
(to carry the ammunition of your breath)
Your throat is a barrel.
Your tongue is a trigger.

Click against the war drum of your jaw,
and echo the sound:No.
No.
You will not touch me.
No.
You will not call me that word.
No.
I will not move.

A bullet cannot hurt an ocean,
and waves are just static atop its depth.
You are louder than this.
(bloody experiment in noise)
A transmission,
sent straight through bullhorn of tongue,
by the soapbox that got lodged in your throat,
on the day they told you to swallow your pride.

You are louder than this.
You are ruckus.
You are opus.
So shatter the silence and proclaim yourself,
turn up your melody so loudly that they never forget,
and hand the world your name,
like it was a gift. 

Spine,
straighter than a ship’s mast.
Chin,
held higher than full sails.
Static,
crashing like waves breaking against your bow.
The bullets of their lips firing,
but missing,
with every,
shot.

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(via cuntinued)

daxnorman:

quick change
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daxnorman:

quick change

(via buddhabrot)

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Running Up That Hill - Kate Bush

(Source: musicisaprincess, via combdesgarcons)

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euo:

Truth will set your free but not until it is finished with you.David Foster Wallace  Mikko Kourinki
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euo:

Truth will set your free but not until it is finished with you.
David Foster Wallace  
Mikko Kourinki

(via flannel)

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(Source: afterthecups, via fleuries)

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(Source: yebbi-gongju, via flannel)

What screws us up the most in life is the picture in your heads of how it’s supposed to be.
written by Anonymous  (via c-oquetry)

(Source: realizes, via radicalteen)

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(Source: goddess-river, via radicalteen)