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 Dec 2018 Harley Hucof
Theresa
I very well just may be a superhero
Of my own destiny
A ‘Magic Brain’ if you will
That can create any dream
Any fantasy
Any visualization
Into actual lived-out experience
I see the beauty in my own life
Digest its observance in my mind
Translate it into curated eye candy
And in that powerful recycling mechanism
I somehow manifest it
Into breathing moments by me
And I’m met with disbelief of how lucky I am
To receive it
To have done it myself
To be connected to the Universe so strongly
To believe in myself enough to actualize it all
And then a swarm of gratitude rushes in
Towards all those same things
And for the power I behold
In this current vessel
And as I embrace the unfolding movie
That of course always looks different in real life
But in most cases
Finds themselves to be beyond
Magical
Blissful
Organic
Deep
Exhilarating
Warming
Than what I had sketched into color with my cells
I then even take snapshots of those real time marvels
And package the same seeds into more of the
Ditches and crevices of my yearnings
And thus the magic continues

...But with all of our lights,
There is a shadow
And because I’m able to take in such
Beauty and truth
Essence and emotion
To formulate my future in this way
I can’t help but also take in
The ugly and the harm
Stress and deep pain
Which overtakes my body in its holding
And because my mind is unique
In its innocence
And natural draw to positivity
My Magic Brain takes a stand
In not recycling
These same donated difficulties from the outside
And closes up shop on the factory
For that dark magic
Would never get through
In the ways in which this machine was built
And so it sticks in my vessel
Like clogged pipes
And the longer I keep it
Intertwined with my insides
It will hide
Attach
Try to grow
And in time
Needs an absolute relief from the confinement
And so…
It finds it's way
Scratching and scarring through my colon
Blistering out my lips
Slicing itself in tiny shards
And dissolving out the skin
Draining my energy in the fight
Playing tricks and cruel jokes
On my immune system
And telling riddles to my mind
In attempts to manipulate blame
But that does not mean
My gift is gone
It is only the flip side
Of this shiny coin I discovered
As a little girl
And have made it a fun practice
To polish it so often
And I wonder now
If I can use this same superpower
My ‘Magic Brain’
To heal its very own device
To see healing
In order to take it in
To feel it
In order to regenerate it
For future reality
To eventually then become my inevitable present
If I could take these effervescent
Complex textured
And layered colors
Of the sky
Painting these mountains
That hold this ocean
Creating what I perceive with these eyes
In this moment
And somehow ingest it
Or wash over me
Or soak into me
Or consume my breath
To inhale
I think I could repair this machine
Un-barricade this vessel
Heal this body
Re-ignite this spirit
And get back to playing
With my magic powers
As I wish
 Dec 2018 Harley Hucof
chichee
In a sermon, the preacher says:
"The Lord created us in his image,
all who desecrate themselves
too destroy a part of God."


I've murdered pets and
alphabetised people by
sense and style and laughs like
a rack of dresses.
I've kissed girls just because
they said they could never like me
like that
as if their lips were some
sacred maiden's blush and not
a pair of fleshy rims.
As if I couldn't read their
***** little lesbian fantasies
underneath those
angel faces.

Susan from accounting thinks I need
to see a therapist. I think she needs to see
a mirror. We don't really get along, but ****-
maybe if drink enough
these clocks
these blue collars
these billboards with the pearly white teeth
won't look like straightjackets anymore.

I have this thing where
sometimes I'm just so tired
of being a body.
The world's a ******* advertisement,
Everyone with their scripted
good mornings and
chemical feelings
down to the last **** t.

My skin is a cage
and I'll strip it off like
a *****.
Why be happy when you
could be interesting?

Love like a bluejay,
Fists in our stomachs-
The headlights of a car coming
at 80 miles an hour straight at you,
pummeling in a stream of light.
The taste of a cigarette after
it's been on someone else's lips.

Don't you dare tell me you understand.

When I tell her this
my therapist only smiles,
Darling it's only purgatory.

Allen knew. Nietzsche knew. Woolf knew.
In all our hearts-
We've already killed God.
Experimenting with voices, Richard Siken, Frank Bidart, Allen Ginsberg. Title taken from a Hozier song under the same name.
I wake up at noon everyday
Hoping to find a quick getaway
Out of this cellophane
Seranwrapping my brain
And making it stay.
I want to dance with the nobles
And make love to my wife
In the subtle grass,
Passing out hollowed cigars
As we laugh in uproars felt from afar.
Wasn't it better back in those days?

I'm drunk behind the wheel
Of my old car,
Trying to escape but only going
Back home to hell.
This ****** prison cell,
Where demons barge in at any hour
Just to say hello and beat me down.
I miss the days when it was easy to cry,
Now I'm just a hollow shell.

Now I'm in the future
Which is really more of a present.
Don't you see how far we've come?
From writhing in your sleep
To dancing with the stars,
You've made it big.
Lucy's on her way, she's a part of our gig.
Hallucinations await as the sun
Slowly decays,
Decades pass by and my problems
Melt away,
It's me, I'm happy again.
The divines
Gave us the gift
Of happiness
And now you shall
Be happy too.

Ready your pipes
And light your torches,
The blessed flower
Shall bestow upon
The thy virtue
Of serenity.
opportunity knocked;
well
it banged.
awaking me from the sweetest dream of all the things that aren’t,
but could have been.
can they still be?
with hardened dribble on my cheek,
i groaned
“who’s there?
come in.”
hovering over me,
possessing feelings of mere affection
he just stood there.
i felt him
but i never looked up.
see,
i figured
if he wanted my company
he would have made it clear to me.
instead he stood embracing me,
steady mocking the mess i had made of myself.
he didn’t even offer to help.
not a small word or
a shy good luck.
not a simple you’re beautiful,
or demand to get up.
nothing.
he seemed scared.
was i that much of a monster?
a vicious scene to be feared?
I saw a man on a hill
Overlooking a valley that stretched over miles
With tears drenched on his cheeks

I knew by the shovel in his hand
And the mound beside his feet
He was sad

The gravestone was nameless
And when I peered over to see
There was nothing there

That's when I saw a man take his life
Falling thousands of feet into hell
But I thought he was an angel

He wasn't sad,
He was in pain.
And I didn't realize that in time.
So I took myself and stood on a hill
Overlooking a valley that stretched over miles
With tears drenched on my cheeks

I didn't know why but
I held the shovel in my hand
Beside the hole in the ground

I was sad
I wanted to **** myself
I hate myself

They didn't know,
That I was in pain.
And didn't realize that this time.
- SkullsNBones
View more poems on my instagram
www.instagram.com/SkullsNB0nes
 Dec 2018 Harley Hucof
Abby
Not everything needs a poem
Sometimes
it’s already

good enough.
My Little Positive Poem

Positive thinking,
good vibes,
no room for negativity or lies,
affirmations said daily,
hope in the air,
lighter than life,
now I don’t care.

Free from worry,
free from restraints,
abandoning all past mistakes,
affirm and praise your inner self,
you are just as worthy as everyone
else.
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