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About rawknuckledlove

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  1. T O P 40

    We’ll sit together On couch cushions Listening to throwbacks Of old lovers’ voicemails Crying on lipsticked mixtapes and you got your back against her pillows. As if these 1998 top 40’s will make her hips dance with yours again. Wanting her to pull off the headphones and start singing to you. The knob pulled so your ears can only hear ringing until it sounds like she picked up. Wishing in the livingroom that she’ll wrap her arms around you like a mantelpiece and make it sound like we got our record player back.
  2. Do you talk much?

  3. Anyone You Ever Loved

    When you get home to the promise land send me a postcard from the graveyard where you buried that friendship bracelet of ours back when we were in grade school. Back when we were so happy that you didn't think you had to write journals to keep your head from eating your heart.
  4. G R A C E

    He began playing the harp and I said, “Jesus, can’t you tell my heart hurts enough?” Snapping cords within his fist until beautiful music starts sounding like our banging doors. It’s like that time I loved you so much I promised to never love you again. Had me begging on my knees looking up asking, “Jesus, you have got to let me be for awhile because my grace isn’t holding up down here right now.” Wondering how many strings we can retether before the whole instrument falls apart and we’ll start praying for a new one. Watch the it pour over The sink to the tiled floor and Ask just one more time if harps Are supposed to sound like falling angels
  5. B P D

    That voice filling the room Telling you to imagine Any negative thoughts Floating away with the clouds The vacuum sky turning the sun inside out making you want to sing a lullaby to your heart so it can take the day off. Hiding away in your room playing tic-tac-toe with yourself to decide whether eating today is a want or a need. After losing three times in a row you decide an empty stomach needs help so you climb down to feel the concrete carpeted floor lead to your reflection. There’s sticky-notes all over the mirror promising that whatever is behind them isn’t worth looking at right now and when you pull them off they all start reading your worth aloud to a room full of vacancies while the clock makes a 180. You try to touch the doorknob until the voices from behind apologize by kissing your feet so you feel that you can stop feeling again. Suddenly you’re at your desk conducting a symphony of love letters to your friends telling them that maybe stars put you both here so they can learn to hate without making you feel bad. They all start calling you saying they sent mail back, but now your address changed and the clouds have started spelling your own name again.
  6. T R E N C H E S

    I keep falling in Love with strangers On the sidewalk because They all look like you I crawl through the sewers to escape the déjà vus. Getting covered in your sight and have to cleanse myself in the trenches. I’m hoping the morning light will shine through overhead storm drains so I don’t have to worry about the streetlights playing tricks on me. Every so often I peak my head out to find you playing hopscotch with my childhood friends and my feet slip off the ladder ending in murk again.
  7. Clean Pages

    Help me clean the pages. Maybe it can come with us to the Heavens.
  8. Are we alone.

    Gray grass takes root in the scalp of the earth. Pale moonlight casts a burnt shadow beyond your chapped fists. The tired ground lifts you up just high enough to kiss nighttime with shredded palms rubbed raw from holding hands with rocks as if that'd crack the puzzle called "500 Pieces of Are You Alone In The Woods?"
  9. E X H I B I T I O N

    I’m tired of waking up against the wall feeling like another piece of your gallery. My bruised canvas isn’t fading and these nails holding me down are stuck in paint. I keep hoping this exhibition ends and I go with it. I want someone to pick me up and paint their self portrait on my landscape. To wash their paintbrushes between every stroke and thin out my fields. Build a city atop my skin with more than a bent wrist. Make me the mural above your bed and the thoughts in your heart. Recreate me in your image and pretend it was my idea. Love me like the Shelves fell off in Your room but you still Want to find a place for me
  10. H O T W A T E R

    Rinse your poor hands This is nothing new Only time will absolve What hot water can’t You’ll wake up one morning with more than a devil on your shoulder and love in the basement. You’ve got hope shining through the window, but the damn shades closed. You shower in the dark with the faucet handle pulled until your skin is the only thing glowing anymore and it’s peeling away like everything else. So you step out, dry off, and write until your flesh turns to callous and you fall asleep while an angel washes your hair.

    He got on and turned to look There she stood With his suitcases He didn't go back to get them The doors shut