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Something tells me that
If you knew I was there
You wouldn't have done
All those amazing things
And if you knew just how
Amazing you really are
The world would cease moving
For just one second
You inspire more
Than you'd like to admit
And it scares you how
So many people are moved
By simple words than actions
Acknowldege your greatness
So the world will end
And begin anew
So I can see your words
For the first time
Rhyme yourself out of this one
It hurts, doesn't it?
"You're going to get poisoned that way." she warned half-heartedly as I chewed on the HB pencil in my hand.
"What kind of poisoning? Lead? Wood? It's all the same to me. Death is inevitable, so why not rush the trip?" I replied.
"What's your damage anyhow? You weren't like this before."
"I think you mean to say 'What's NOT my damage?', darling." I glanced over at her, standing over me. Her green sweater and plaid skirt blended well, almost camouflaging her as normal. I couldn't help but glance up at her chest and then back down to the paper in front of me.
"Skeletons." I muttered and jabbed at the sketch lightly.
"Skeletons, they're just skeletons until I make them something else."
"Sort of like us, eh?" she chuckled, and as she did, I noticed her eyes for the first time in a long while, a bright hazel. They were usually behind her glasses and I'd never cared to look at them as I always had my nose either in a book or over a picture I was drawing.
"What do you mean?"
Do You Ever Feel This Way?
He sat there in his chair, calm and in deep thought, clutching his instruments, tapping them on his teeth. The clicking echoed throughout the dankness.
"What to do with a pretty like you..." he said softly, almost mute.
She couldn't hear him, and even if she could, what good would it do her? She couldn't escape, she was his now, to do with as he pleased.
"I could cut you into little pieces." he murmured and smiled as the word 'pieces' exited, arousing him a bit, he breathed in the scent of the room, stale and a bit musty.
Her predecessors lay around, mangled, maimed, and in various states of decay. One lay in the corner, her spine bent in half and twisted out of shape. Another, drenched by the water dripping from the ceiling's pipes, most only had bits and pieces left behind, a testament to those who came after. A warning of sorts.
"I'm at a loss." he whispered, as he rubbed his temples slowly, trying to ease the pain behind his eyes. It stung and he just wanted it to go away, but he k
He woke up, blurry eyed and dry mouthed, like he was re-born. He scratched his dark brown hair, and glared blindly at the clock in front of him, it was half past seven in the evening.
"Dammit." he mumbled, his voice scratching his throat.
He reached down to the floor and pulled his cel phone from his pocket of his faded blue jeans. The antenna was caught, he furiously pulled and yanked until one of the two objects gave in. He checked his messages, and turned to look behind him. She was gone. She had either left during the early afternoon or late morning, at any rate, he didn't care. She was just another girl, another notch in his belt. The phone rang, vibrating in his hand, he took it and put it under his pillow, he felt like talking to nobody. He had spent the last of his paycheck on a bottle of rum and a pack of cigarettes, both of which, were almost empty.
"Fuck." he shouted, at the half of his lungs, as he searched for his missing sock, fumbling beneath his bed.
He heard cars pass
Harry Sanders was a quiet fellow of low regard. His socks were always mismatched. His tie always had stains of mustard and gravy on them. He made it a point to wear sneakers to office meetings, and on 'Casual Friday' he wore his pyjamas. His hair, a dull grey, was always greased back, making the creases on his forehead more noticable. His glasses were always slung around, what appeared to be, his neck. His nose, which was his most prominent feature, was always stuck behind either a handkerchief, a file, or a book. His beady, sunken, brown eyes never seemed to move from their forward position, except to catch a glimpse of the temporary secretary bending over to pick up arrant paperclips.
Harry was by no means a deviant, or by no means normal. He was just Harry.
One warm and quiet Sunday afternoon, Harry took his dog, Mortimer, to the park. It had been a very busy week at the office, and Harry had, not so much avoided, but forgot, about poor, old Mortimer. Mortimer was a daschund, ten ye
Elevator by -Senor-
James stood in the corner of the elevator, chewing on one of his many unsharpened pencils. He felt rather warm in his charcoal suit, and nearly strangled by the navy blue neck tie. His hair was gelled down to keep the rooster tail from flying up, and his chocolate brown eyes were focused on nothing. The HB rolled on his tongue, the lead seeping into his system, and the paint, chipping ever so slightly, managed to make it's presence known on his tongue. He had always ridden the elevator to calm his nerves after a service, especially since this one, would be his last.
The thought had crossed his mind over the week leading up to his final eulogy. He found many similarities in the job he did and his eulogies. He constantly spoke of being in a better place, moving on, remembering fondly, and of course, that you'll never be forgotten. He always said that, and though you believed it, to him, it was just routine. The words had begun to lose meaning, like when he first said 'I love you.' But,
You Make Me
You Make Me
I wake up and think
Of all the things you've done for me
You've made the world a better place
For us to live in
And though your day
Might not have gone exactly like you planned
I'm tired of gettin' all the time
So I'll start givin'
It's time I told you
All the things you make me do
You make me
You make me feel like it's always spring
You make me
You make me wanna give up everything
Sure it may sound
Kind of cliche but honey
That's how you make me feel
And I ain't ever gonna stop
I feel like
The World's at my command
I've got you by my side and
We're standing up on top
You wanna know, just what you can do
Bring a man down, make him worship you
You make me
You make me think of you all day long
You make me write stupid love songs
Although I really can't complain
You've got my heart, my soul, my brain
You make me wanna run around the world
You make me wanna make you my girl
You make me feel like I'm on cloud nine
You make me f
for Nyssi by Senor
So I may not be there
But I am in a way
I'm there in your heart
And it's there that I'll stay
The memories of you two
Though the thought of it all
Causes you so much pain
I want to help you
Get rid of the hurt
Pick the shards up
From the love stained dirt
Glue it together,
It will feel all anew
But a piece is still missing
It was taken from you
Though it can't be put back
You can try, fill the space
You'll not feel the same
With that piece out of place
I'll help fill it,
So will others too
Your friends and family
Here, to love you
Though you heart may be broken,
And life seems like a bitch
You'll never be poor
All your friends, make you rich
They Arent The Same
I'd only known you a few days
But it's felt like an eternity
And it shocks me that someone would care
Especially you, of all people
But you said 'Hello.' You started it.
Ever since that day, that time I said it.
'I Love You.'
Well, maybe I didn't say those exact words,
But what I said was close, and that's all
It's been said, and now, I feel better.
Life is grand, I can't stop smiling
You've done this to me, and I can't complain
Because this feeling I have, I've never felt
So it must be love, or misguided lust.
At any rate, I love you, and you know.
But, you told me you don't feel the same
You hurt inside, you don't want to love
So, it's not me, but still, I feel it's my fault
I don't regret saying it, but you...
I've never said it to anyone else before.
No words so pure were uttered, so innocent
My love for you is still alive, but it's changed
I still love you, but as a friend, and I'll take that
I'd rather you a friend, than never entering my life
But now, the words don't mean the sa
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
I am a Dante in a world of Shannen Hamiltons
And though I'm not supposed to be here today
I'm trying to see a sailboat, blinded by chocolate pretzels
And I'm a tracer
I trace the past to make myself a future prophet
I am an ungifted muse
And the angels and demons play hockey with my heart on the roof
While the stench of shoe polish lingers like a dense fog
And I search
I search for a stolen monkey that's neither mine or hers
What to do? Where to go?
When did my Alyssa become a Caitlin Bree?
The topless psychic didn't tell me this would happen
What do you think Silent Bob?
And I thought "callow" was a good thing...
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