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creations

  • heterodox domain
    new words in old styles tracked on a canvas of brick scribbled by artists  who failed at art school. a presentation of names  ...
  • why hurricanes are named after people
    fear was quiet, she kept to herself.  she was the type of girl people read books about.  fear wore a cross necklace every day but she d...
  • until daylight apologizes
    we've managed to connect stars into constellations and feelings into words and we've memorized the night sky  based upon the l...
  • tribute to rosyln
    i apologize mother maybe you've only seen black and white but god is the best artist   because hideous dangers are ...
  • dictionary
    in fifth grade english class we had to bring books to school. i always forgot mine so my teacher made me read the dictionary words on w...
  • symphony no. 18
    at four years old my fingers touched the keys for the first time and i wondered why the only song i could play was called "chops...
  • because we are anchored in bones
  • ..and so i just kept writing to myself
    january 12th, 2014 : i haven't slept through the night in probably a year  january 19th, 2014 : alright. story time.  february 2nd, ...
  • what about track two?
    you know those songs in the middle of the album, the ones that people don't know about.  the ones where you really have to try to f...
  • a letter to myself.
    days are going by faster now, the nights are longer, the morning breeze is colder. the wind blows on my newly showered ears, stic...

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agnes obel
"don't feel stupid if you don't like what everybody else pretends to love."
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agnes obel

[brooklyn chase]

18 months.
540 days.
32,400 minutes.
1,944,000 seconds.

created from debris.

only with the leftovers.
the rebounds.

the side we see is bright,
white.

but the surface is dark,
with only a reflectance to make her pretty.

showing the same face, 
never changing. 

when it kisses the light,

only then do we get a glimpse,

only every 18 months.
540 days.
32,400 minutes.
1,944,000 seconds.


don't wait that long. 


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this year has been the hardest,
the suckiest.

fine is the suckiest word,
its the opposite of here.

here is the only place left on the map,
where you feel safe.

you can feel your past, so present

so present that you can feel your baby teeth,
and you can feel the air just above the ground
because your feet can't touch the floor.

your pain has taken up the horizon and you feel
like you're taking up too much space.

but darling let yourself be the milky way


don't worry, alone is the last place you'll ever be,

and everybody's survival looks a little bit like death. 

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one. your dad's gonna be there when no one else is.

two. do not fear to lose what needs to be lost.

three. you can't be fixed by the same person who broke you. 

four. letting people in is a good thing. 

five. broken hearts still beat.

six. broken crayons still color. 

seven. go for it. whether it ends good or bad, it was an experience.

eight. answers don't come easy. 

nine. don't expect people to understand your words, when not even you can. 



ten. not all battles are meant to be won.
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i open my palm and my lifelines look like branches from an aspen tree,
and there are songbirds perched on the tips of my fingers,
and i wonder if beethoven held his breath
the first time his fingers touched the keys
the same way a soldier holds his breath
the first time his finger clicks the trigger.

we all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe. 


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why are we always waiting for the big changes?

why do we hang on to the blacks?

the whites?

why not get excited about the greys.

get excited about the little things.
the small details.

get excited about
the new outfit you're gonna wear for the first time,
the thursday fourth period roxberry runs,
when you get to the last page,
the penny you find by your tire,
make it lucky.

get excited about 
the new cute guy in your class,
or the new cute girl,
the meal you've been waiting for your mom to make,
the text back. 



get excited about anything that makes you remotely happy because as you grow up, passions fade and enthusiasm gets mistaken for foolishness.  



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i miss it. 
i miss not caring.

but i don't have to care.

sure, yeah, it's easier as a child.
it's easier to fall and scrape your knee,
get food all over your face,
color outside of the lines,
when you're a kid.

easier to imagine yourself as the next batman,
or a firefighter,
or an astronaut. 


easier not to care what you get on your math test,
or vocabulary quiz,
or who you sit by at lunch.

easier to color the skies yellow, 
the faces blue, 
the grass purple. 

we are all given a box of crayons in kindergarten.

but now we have to buy ball point pens and mechanical pencils.

go get yourself some crayons.

not highlighters.

not sharpies.

crayons. 

treat yourself to a sixty four pack. 



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when i see hats,
i see bardering.

bardering for tourist hats on the side of the road,
they're all the same.

just different colors.

when i see different colors,
i see rainbows.

trails in the sky for the lucky ones.

but only for the lucky ones.

when i think lucky,
i think march seventeenth.  

when i see march seventeenth i see green,
and green is her favorite color.

when i see her favorite color,
i see her eyes.



the eyes that sting of her youth,
and stretching her neck,
just to see mine.

but mine don't have color.
mine don't have youth.

mine don't have the hope of the future,
the warmth of the past.

my eyes are towards the ground,
and my feet are to the sky.

but for her sake,

i hope her eyes are always pointed toward the stars,
and her feet on the ground.

i hope for her sake,

that innocence never becomes experience.












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those teachers will never teach you about heartbreak.
they won't teach you how to earn money,
 they won't prepare you to move out. 


you'll have to figure it out by yourself. 

they won't teach you how to be patient,
with the girl that spreads rumors.
they won't tell you how to gain the confidence,
to talk to the kid by himself. 

you'll have to figure it out by yourself. 

they won't teach you that when you have hiccups,
eat some peanut butter.
nobody will teach you that when that song is stuck in your head,
listen to it. 
put your headphones on,
and blast it. 

you'll have to figure it out by yourself. 

they won't teach you that when he leaves,
it'll feel like food poisoning,
 when you haven't eaten in days.

you'll have to figure it out by yourself. 








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