Del Antonio

a writer of emotions

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We all get 24 hours a day. We have to manage it. When you lose someone close to your heart it’s so easy to see how many available slots you actually had for a person. I’m glad I have no regrets about my relationship with my grandmother before she passed. However, I don’t take people for granted. I respect time and I’m clear about how to make the most of it. I could easily get lost in me and my world however there are people I actually do really care about, there are relationships I want to build- so I Make Time- when I see I’m not made time for 👋 - and it’s cool. But I check out before I allow someone make me second guess who I am. Everyone doesn’t value things of good value but that doesn’t mean it isn’t valuable. Same for me you may not value me but I know I’m valuable.
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#tbt - I took this 15 minutes ago 😐 #beard #bearded #beardedmen #beardgang #beardnation #postbadbeards
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Developing friendships, networking, and dating(getting to know) requires communication. It amazes me how many multiple ways are available to us to communicate, yet we don’t. I value those who do and for those who don’t - I check out because what’s the point? When it comes to getting to know someone - your communication tells me a lot.
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My tattoo and the painting I did of it 💉🎨
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Painted this last night. Sold my original one and decides to do another for my place
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He couldn’t fill the blade
Or the cut
Over burdened with pain
He carried too much
He carried too long
Crying out for something
But everything was gone
The way he saw it
This was the only way
He couldn’t feel the blade
People flashed before his eyes
And he began to cry
Reminiscing on sweet things
Before they turned bitterly
He can’t feel a thing
The blade is inside him
A quick turn
The first time it burned 
When his cousin raped him
Trafficked him
He remembers blood
He remembers pain
He remember more than once
Why this price he had to pay
He couldn’t feel the cut
Never knew what it was 
Love
Growing up 
Abused 
No one gave a fuck
His sexuality
And his religion
They said he’s going to hell
They sad he had a demon
Even though he didn’t believe it
He received it
Out of his mind
Because of his pain
Too much sadness 
No smiles remain
The cut goes deeper
But no sign of physical pain
The look on his face like a porcelain doll
There’s not really a look
Or an expression at all
Too many chances of hope
Came now gone
Too many looks on the bright side
That only darkness roams
He couldn’t even feel the blade 
Or the cut
As he dug away
Ending his life 
He couldn’t fight
He chose suicide
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Pit Stop
©Del Antonio
We use to fuck
Now we don’t speak
But the sex was never sweet 
U were always bitter
I guess u had been hurt too many times
What was once Ur gateway to love
Spread often like the peace sign 
But nothing was peaceful about u
U were violent inside
So many questions why
And I was there for a reason of one
I kept u numb
I kept Ur eyes rolled back in Ur head
I kept u out of Ur head
From thinking too much
About why u wasn’t loved
And I felt sorry for u
But I wasn’t here to save u
I was here to medicate u
Captain dope dick
We play doctor 
And every Tuesday night 
You were always sick
And needed to be checked out
Dugged out
And I was the doctor on call
We never talked about Ur bullshit
But I wasn’t dumb 
Nor naive
From what u needed from me
And what lied beneath
The moaning
And cumming 
Your longing
For what was never coming
What had never came
Love written in just your name 
You felt shame
Decided to play the game 
Of nut and just nut
You thought this gay life
Could never result
In love 
For you 
Or any men in the number of solely two
So when it starts bleeding in your mind
You begin to want love
Knowing you’ll never find
You spread your legs like the peace sign 
Taking as many fucks
As you can it get numb
So you forget 
The place you use to share for love 
Is now just a pit stop for many dicks