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  1. Someone please help me subscribe I'm illegally blind poet who submitted something but can't figure out where the boxes to check off that I would like to subscribe. Respectfully thankful for the help of it on the tears or mediator site

  2. I wrote and submitted this :
    ,I’m not helpless
    I can help this
    Was all weakness
    Til i felt this
    Then it came to me
    the treasure
    Of this measure
    i have wealth in.
    to explain to
    someone else
    (Is hard)
    They gotta flex
    I their mental health
    (In part)
    To recognize
    the stealth
    that diving to
    the bottom sells us

    I'm not helpless

    the separation
    seems as if
    Had been rendered
    Id surrendered
    Certain Id been
    Crafted tender
    What countered
    This distruction
    was an inner
    Mass eruption
    Of my logic
    I’m no prophet
    Yet I’m past
    such repercussions
    I call others
    Join discussion
    In the path passed
    past destruction

    I’m not helpless
    Never felt this
    Gonna tell this
    Never helpless

    Was on bottom
    Was out numbered
    Kearned a lot
    not going under
    i didnt lose
    Instead life taught 'em
    Yea that got em
    Who'd have thought?
    When reconsidered,
    I'm no quitter
    whatever those were
    Out to get we were
    Not what brothers,
    Sisters, mothers,
    Are about
    That's one another
    I casted doubt out
    To discover
    Only this:

    I'm not Helpless.
    we can help this
    im not helpless.
    Time to sell this
    Never helpless

  3. impressionable .

    Max, you dont understand the impact you have had on me. It feels like you pressed your entire existance into my putty like skin, with the pressure equivellent to a million mens strength. You didnt give me enough time to be complacent with your decision because as quick as you made this extraordinary imprint you neglected this imprint, fully aware the my former skin was virtually smooth, undisturbed, almost virgin. My skin wasnt used to this much movement, pushing, poking, prodding. All i had ever been allowed before was a few dents visable on my well kept exterior, a divet here and there from past relationships that had touched my impressivly soft, imprestionable skin, despite them appying pressure for ten times longer than you had ever allowed the weight of your touch to press into me, yet your mark was much more prominamnt and empty than any other imprint almost splitting my non existant seams, although some of my skins dents and dimples were growing and deepening as pressure was still being applied, pressure that had remained on my skin since i could remember due to my family members. but your pressure? your pressure had completely distorted my figure, your pressure was beyond intense just like the mark it left completely different the the pressure any of my family volentered to my form, the distortion you left on my body not only changed my exterior but it had also warped my insides, my instincts, the way i thought, how i perceived myself. My warmth had fled as quickly as your desire to mold and scupt me. But my skin has not, will not reform nearly as much as i beg of it everyday. your pressure had disturbed my insides so much that my skin cannot remember what its original form had been, you had completely changed my system making the original nothing but an unwanted ghost taking the form of a painful lesson. the intense pressure you forced onto my skin was addictive, pressure so intense is unmatched to any other thing the universe may offer when you have so few volenteers to shape your skin. Everyday i witness peoples skin being pushed and squezed making me long for your pressure. making me chase the feelings your existence forced me to feel. But you have dismorphed me so extremely that when any outsider witnessed the shape of my being would avoid giving me any form of pressure. As they must have belived i was so damaged and condenced by the pressure you had provided me that they wouldnt have even a chance to change my form, that their pressure would go un noticed by me. the worst thing about that thought others would often experience is thats its true, completely valid. I am so focused on your marks that another mark any other could give me would be reduced to a needles point against a mighty oak. Max you have ruined my body, my interior as well as my exterior, like a dog marking his territory. But your not here to admire the abstract sculpture you have turned me into. im a masterpeice wrapped in miles of paper, ribbons and labels with your name on them. i have no other choice to think of you when im admiring my metaphorical sculptural form, until you rediscover the thing that inspired you to turn me into this form or until i find another designer greater than you willing to work unknowingly long and hard on reinventing my physical non physical form. until the uncomprehend-able answer to that heavy anxiety provoking question is given to me, ill think of you everyday i have to live with this form.