Instant

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Less than a minute

Less than a second

Instantaneous.

But what is an instant?

It has to be some time.

Something.

Even a fraction of a second

Can be felt.

So tell me

About instant deaths.

Is it really instant

Or a few seconds

A moments.

When fear flashes fast

Your life flashes slow

Seconds become unbearable.

– writingdilegently

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I snapped at a teacher today….

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Well, to be more clear, I tore her down.

The short story is that in class we were learning about healthy and unhealthy relationships. Now, this teacher has a bad reputation for being difficult and for loosing students’ work. For our assignment, we had to write an essay, poem, or skit based off of certain criteria. I of corse wrote a poem. Simple, yet very deep.

I called her over to read my poem just so that she could see I did work. She started picking apart my grammar. She criticized my use of the word ‘forevermore’ and told me to add a ‘P.S’ at the end. If you could see my face you would understand how stupid this all was to me. I turned to her, looking her in the eye and said….

‘First of all, you are my advisory teacher. Not my english teacher. Second off, this is poetry. Poetry. There are no clear rules for what makes a poem. Most poems like this one are more figurative than literal. Poetry does not have to be grammatically correct. Nor do you have to write in complete sentences.”

All this in a rather monotone voice. At that point she looked at me quietly, then said, ‘Okay.’ I better get an A for that poem.

– writingdilegently

Graffiti

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Never is graffiti bad to me. Never. The graffiti on the walls and streets of New York. The words in the subways…. I love them all. I always have. I like reading the names and seeing the drawings. It’s almost surreal for me. I love to see white vans covered in different words and fonts and images. I feel almost compelled to buy an abandoned building and hiring people to ‘vandalize’ it.

Are you pro or con graffiti?

– writingdilegently

Drawing on my skin

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Sharpie markers in hand

A pen to make my outlines

I doodle my heart out on my skin

Little phrases and words

To reflect my thoughts

Smiles and flowers

Hearts and quotes

Black and white

Full color

Drawing on my skin

Don’t draw on yourself Angelina

Don’t draw on yourself

Don’t draw on myself?

But I am a blank canvas

Is it my fault

That my doodles look better on flesh

That my colors flow better

That my images look more real

You are going to get ink poisoning

Oh yes please tell me again

I didn’t hear you the first time

Just get tattoos

I like having options.

But if I do end up sick

My skin only showing the ink that it’s bled

I’ll smile bright eyed

Don’t ever say I didn’t suffer for my art

– writingdilegently

The hug theory

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‘I wonder what the guy who invented the hug was thinking.” That’s what I heard the other day. So the question was there, naturally, I had to come up with a plausible answer.

This is my hug theory;

It wasn’t a man who invented the hug. Nor any adult for that matter. No, hugs were invented my children, no, infants. Yes, infants. In the beginning of our beginning, we clung to our mothers. We clung, and they held us in their arms. That is where the hug came from. As we grew older, the hug continued to hold strong. We use it to show that we crave affection, or security.

– writingdilegently

Little memories

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Why do we fall so deeply in love?

Be it with a pet

Or lover

Or mother

Or father.

Why do we fall in love?

Why do we love?

Every single one of us

We are afraid of getting hurt

But we let all those little things

Deep inside our hearts.

We know that nothing ever lasts

So who we love is only temporary

But the feelings never dampen.

I think we love

Because of the momentary high

The little memories

Yes

The little memories

– writingdilegently

Words

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The craziest thing

We find meaning in

Isn’t a ‘thing’ at all

But a concept

Sothing we take for granted everyday

Something we think so little on

The one thing we look towards

More than anything else

Are words

– writingdilegently