Week 9 - Mr. J (5-3) vs. NYCSPITZ (3-3) - NYCSPITZ WINS 8-0

NYCSPITZ · 11-19-2013, 11:17 PM

Emily Dickinson incarnate. School whiz slash opiate fiend
Ceramic vase sullenly shines as petals float to the clean
brown tile.
These racing thoughts can kill your hopes as a teen...
Dope lean, exegesis of bible quotes was her thing
like "FUCK GOD...he's probably why I'm morose and serene
I wish I was pretty - prime Marilyn coasting in scenes..."
Witness this tornado soul's fiery militant zen,
weaponized words unleashed with unlimited ken
She found her truth in book piles, an ink quill and a pen
...but she'd deny things too. Like the feel of regret
The man who raped her for the first time was Billy Dufresne.
"What bruises...oh these scars?" It was silly to blame
Sometimes she'd shoot dope up just to kill all the pain...
in her Milky Way spiral edge's villainous lane
Floating trailer park home, soul tattered inside
At school sometimes she'd get ass-slapped, a pat on the side
To uproarious laughter....
Secret diary with an atom inscribed
on the cover, screaming at every single daemon with rants
but super secret. In her mind the fucking pages were blank
Panic mode, rectangle xanny tabs staving attacks
GABA receptors at peace, then brain waves would collapse
an old heart and young spirit, genius in nascency wrapped
She could pack for the midnight train or stay and collapse
but writing was an escape. It was her blizzard controlled
sought meaning, through every single summer's winter and snow
Every day in her room lonely, scripting her soul
reading short stories at the table, timid and bold
when one line popped out at her and whispered - so cold...
In a rage she flung books, flowers and sinister bowl,
it read:
"---that girl's like a devil lost, drifting to home..."
insight stiffens repose;
one creative child of blistering prose
Julie Dufresne - fetal position, holds a withering rose...

.

11-19-2013, 11:17 PM	#2
NYCSPITZ SYRACUSE Join Date: Jan 2013 Posts: 4,031 Battle Record: 31-37 Champed - Write Night II - Alias Topical Tournament Rep Power: 4743547	Emily Dickinson incarnate. School whiz slash opiate fiend Ceramic vase sullenly shines as petals float to the clean brown tile. These racing thoughts can kill your hopes as a teen... Dope lean, exegesis of bible quotes was her thing like "FUCK GOD...he's probably why I'm morose and serene I wish I was pretty - prime Marilyn coasting in scenes..." Witness this tornado soul's fiery militant zen, weaponized words unleashed with unlimited ken She found her truth in book piles, an ink quill and a pen ...but she'd deny things too. Like the feel of regret The man who raped her for the first time was Billy Dufresne. "What bruises...oh these scars?" It was silly to blame Sometimes she'd shoot dope up just to kill all the pain... in her Milky Way spiral edge's villainous lane Floating trailer park home, soul tattered inside At school sometimes she'd get ass-slapped, a pat on the side To uproarious laughter.... Secret diary with an atom inscribed on the cover, screaming at every single daemon with rants but super secret. In her mind the fucking pages were blank Panic mode, rectangle xanny tabs staving attacks GABA receptors at peace, then brain waves would collapse an old heart and young spirit, genius in nascency wrapped She could pack for the midnight train or stay and collapse but writing was an escape. It was her blizzard controlled sought meaning, through every single summer's winter and snow Every day in her room lonely, scripting her soul reading short stories at the table, timid and bold when one line popped out at her and whispered - so cold... In a rage she flung books, flowers and sinister bowl, it read: "---that girl's like a devil lost, drifting to home..." insight stiffens repose; one creative child of blistering prose Julie Dufresne - fetal position, holds a withering rose... . Last edited by NYCSPITZ; 11-22-2013 at 10:24 AM.