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The Cabin [Red, Red Rust]All the dirt and the rust of life grows quickly enough four you to watch, if only you'd stand still.
Time holds no power here amongst collections of dusty memories.
The embryo lays hidden:
An unborn child in the placenta of the red, red rust.
The fear of his last moments remain imprinted in the floorboards;
The ghosts of his emotions are left to haunt you.
The crackling rage roars as the flames consume the fear and the hurt of the red, red rust.
If a cabin burns in an empty forest and no one notices,
Will you still be able to find the Ashes?
Letter from LoveI miss you when you're gone. Things aren't that bad here, really. I don't know what it is. I guess something's wrong with me. But I feel so panicked. Like, I'm slipping and I don't know what to do. My fingers are plunged deep into the ground above me, but all I have to grasp is muck and I can't hold on for long. I feel like any day, I'm going to crack. Because I always do. I'm anticipating it so much, I'm nearly ready to push myself into it. To hurt myself so I can get through the pain that I know will somehow find me. Why can't I feel good when you're not around? You think you're messed up? At least you can function. At least you can pretend everything is alright. I'm crumbling and no one's around to see it.
Come back soon,
Words of Heartache"Actions speak louder than words."
While your words are harsh,
Your actions are brutal.
"I like you."
Doesn't mean the same thing as
"I love you."
Your half-hearted attempts are practically worthless.
Can't compare to
"I wish you were here."
But for reasons I can't find or explain,
I miss you...
Not that you were ever around for me to miss.
InsomniaThis fortress was built to keep the world out and lock our happiness in.
But as I lay here, I wonder if we failed.
I curl into myself,
Wrapped in lace and satin.
Waves of black velvet cascade down my back.
I should be happy, I know.
Yet, I can't help but to wonder, as you sleep soundly, if we were wrong.
Laughter and shrieking reside only a chamber away.
Worry and reality pace just outside the door.
Loneliness lurks at the back window.
But we remain in the center, hollow and healing as we desperately try to fool ourselves that we'll be alright.
Here we lay, three broken hearts in a castle;
Stumbling through darkness, nearly crashing every which way.
We put on a brave face, laughing at our mistakes.
But at night, no one can deny such an empty silence.
A Quick [Unintentional] RhymeI want a Christian Slater guy;
One with dark, mischievous eyes
And a smile that's wickedly sly.
Yep, I want a Christian Slater guy.
Malice in Underland: IntroductionAlice's hair fell about her as a chilling wind bit harshly at her cheeks. Cautiously, she wrapped the bundle in her arms tighter and continued down the quiet, empty London streets. She was little more than a dark mass, blending evenly with the shadows of the night. Perhaps it was for this reason that no one seemed to notice this bustling young woman as she proceeded hastily down the street. Perhaps, no one cared to bother with the unknown figure, and simply continued with their blissful lives. Either way, no one cast a single glance; not even when she slowed beneath a flickering street light and climbed the stoop to a dark building.
As the bundle in her arms began to whimper in protest, Alice smiled sadly and began to sing a soft lullaby to the infant child.
"Speak roughly to your little boy and beat him when he sneezes,
He only does it to annoy because he knows it teases.
Wow! Wow! Wow!
Wow! Wow! Wow!
He only does it to annoy because he knows it teases," she practically whispered. It
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
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.
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.
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.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
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
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 --
Myself as Alice [Poem about a Dream]I dreamt I was Alice, white and pure,
And I was trapped in a Wonderland of ideas and thoughts so obscure.
I had a lover whom I'd never met but was soon stolen due to my naiveity,
As I mourned this loss, the earth slowly began to feed off my insecurities.
It's populace was plagued for centuries with tricks and treachery.
They all tried vainly to reshape me, mold me into their Evil Queen.
Amongst the chaos and cruelty, I lost sight of what was real.
Worst of all, I realized, I'd grown too numb to feel.
I managed to escape with nothing but a gown of shame left to wear,
And scars containing stories of hatred and spite I am forever damned to bear.
Now, I'll aimlessly wander these empty, majestic fields all alone;
Calling out desperately as I search for a lover I've never known.
For, with myself as Alice, I've never seen a future so sad.
But as a nightmare, it wasn't half bad.
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