Year II - Issue XX
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ConfusionA conversation, left awkward and hollow
A laugh, strained and porcelain
So shamed are we by our scars
We hide ourselves from view
Until we're so confused
"Who am I anymore?"
Words echo in the dark of our minds
Who are you, who am I?
Blinded by the tears in our eyes
I still feel the inevitable break..
And it's love, hate
The essence of war
A battle between friends
Fought with bound hands
And who are we to judge
Lives we have not lived
Who am I to judge anyone else
Lives so brittle it's un-fair
Am I breaking, its hard to tell what with all these scars
And I am so confused
All of these memories are melting away
Leaving an ugly stain
In our hearts
Who are we anymore
Once so strong now we stand
Walls of pride built up so high
We can't see the rising sun...
So we sit alone with our tears wondering "Why?"
We are so confused
nobody heard themthe satin skin
provoked her in--
she couldn't help but try to resist;
his eyes, his thousand lies,
his apple-cherry scent;
how on earth, this brown-green earth,
did her and him ever come to be?
one day at sunset, this was the beginning,
that evening, together, they climbed a tree,
and forever did they remember
the kiss that burned as fiercely
as the sun that yellow-licked the leaves.
lapsedyou've eaten my clairvoyance
and I've nowhere left to turn;
vermin stray like fingers
down my gullet.
"I do not love you"
are five words fit to kill:
I close my teeth over my tongue.
Dear D.You speak with your eyes, telling glimpses of the emotions you're hiding underneath,:thumb336437891:
Your hands you turn into instruments, over-manipulating them until you give in, give up,
Letting them fall back down, settling back in place, as your thoughts and words scatter,
And your smile is the ornament of it all; the ever-bright upwards tug of those two lips.
You lose yourself, get lost in your memories and thoughts like a boy trying to get back home,
It adds to the intrigue, losing me too, making me want to unravel the yesterday's with you.
For someone with guilty hands, responsible for so very much, your caramel eyes glow,
seeming to radiate an innocence, a tender goodness that, I like to believe, outweighs all else.
CacklesSunset on black silhouette mountains,
a breeze bending tall corn stalks as if the world
didn't screech to a halt three hours ago.
I remember the weight of your claws
and the onyx of your gaze, Cackles.
You used to laugh at the plaid of my shirt,
the straw sticking from my sleeves,
the sightless look to my button eyes.
Hell, you used to laugh at everything.
I loved that about you, you know?
I loved you, Cackles,
but I hated how you played chicken
in the middle of the road.
I told you so, once...
but you laughed at me for it
and I started to hate
the dip of your head into roadkill,
the clasp of your nails around your food,
the sheen of black feathers in August's breeze.
I warned you about Farmer Ted's son
and his love of squishing things
beneath the rubber of his tires...
and you laughed at that, too.
Maybe fate decided
you'd pressed your luck
for too long.
Maybe I was never meant to be anything
but the stuffed doll
you were never afraid to sit on and leave...
but I miss your laug
04 - Remember MeThink not of decay when reapers lay claim,
Nor of sharp loss in following mourning;
On that day let hushed pleasantries acclaim.
And kiss the life from dulled eyes, unseeing.
Find not thy feet above flower-laid stones:
‘Neath earthly linen I shan’t rouse for thee.
So whether memories make new or old:
Beloved love, remember me fondly.
Sell thy sorrows to swift merchanting winds,
Be stolen by thy existence and time.
Overlook me for sanity’s defense,
But discard me not to the undefined.
My life doth re-begin through memory,
So my beloved love: remember me.
of course you doi remember the
trees evading liquid swords,
sinking into flesh,
of jolly hordes, and
soil-songs: roots, and endless nerves,
not quite gleaming eyes,
like rubies buried
under years, and lengthy beards,
back when pupils saw.
beautiful melancholythe dreams left a bitter aftertaste
that stained my day
like smoke making eyes water
long after the fire is put out.
sometimes i miss riding on trains,
when things were simple
and all i had to pay attention to
was the voice naming stations,
and all i had to listen to
was the clang of metal on metal
and all i had to look at
were the fields blurring in the windows
like the watercolor paintings i did as a kid.
because it was easier then,
traveling at a hundred miles-per-hour,
surrounded by suitcases
and people who averted their eyes and
turned up their ipods.
i think my DNA could have unraveled,
my atoms disintegrated,
my hipbones snapped and my spine shattered until
i turned into a pile of stardust,
and no one would have even glanced up;
i could have drifted out the window
into the mess of fields and sky without anyone
and this thought filled me with a beautiful sort of melancholy
that would last throughout the day.
but i don't ride the train anymore.
i'm just a me
Empty ClosetI finally filled that closet.:thumb336699659:
You know the one.
I cleared it out for you,
Since you spent so much time at my place.
I almost kept your passport out of spite.
I should’ve given it all away.
Instead I threw it into boxes,
Not in neat, precise piles,
Like the clothes and towels I folded time and time again,
After you left them on the floor.
I did however, keep all the records you left by the bands I liked,
And I don’t even own a record player.
Nor do I have a GameCube or a Wii,
But I kept the Zelda games I found you thought you lost.
And the closet once previously yours,
That held your incense,
And the paper flowers you used to make for me,
Now belongs to my cat,
And his litter box.
My LoveI still see you in my reflections
Bones left from your love
The side hasn't been slept in
Your smile is gone
My heart's on a string
Please don't cut it
Sew me back together
The same pattern as before
Unique like a web
Be my spider that spun it
You left early one frosty day
At least I thought it was cold
When I woke up to the shadow of you
A note left on the dresser
"I'm sorry" simply written on it
"The Only Exception" still playing softly
You were like a butterfly
Unable to see your true beauty
No matter how many times I told you
You wouldn't believe me
I'm out of questions and in the need of answers
Then my eyes open to the beautiful sight of you next to me
It was only a dream
More like a nightmare to me
I hold you closer and close my eyes once again
Knowing my "nightmare" will not reappear
Sensual TortureSensual Torture:
You are but a simple pawn;
Caught in a maelstrom of ill feelings and turmoil.
You were not meant to be here -
But unfortunately, here you are my friend...
Now then, I do not wish to drag this out;
There is no purpose in badgering someone who knows so little.
However - without your confession - I'm afraid that
I would not know whom I should share my - pleasures with...
Though I'm certain that you will be sharing plenty...
Of course, it will probably be a poor idea to make you scream,
At least not while I'm still enjoying your fear.
Instead we'll begin with a simple agony;
A quick taste of your pain to whet my appetite...
We'll begin with just a thin incision,
One that is made in the center of both your eyelids.
And then, then we'll make another cut - this one just above the eyes...
Ah, I will adore the feeling of watching your skin peel apart
As the scalpel bites in and draws it aside; much like the curtain
Set upon a theatre stage. It is the
October EyesSuch gentle colors drip across your freckled shoulder blades.
A quilt of puddled watercolors soaked in auburn shades.
Spun of golden rivulets and rinsed in autumn skies,
So many endless currents swimming through your lonesome eyes.
Brushing under fingertips and over shattered songs,
Unraveling like morning glaze against my paling palms.
With beauty like October hills and hollow as the skies,
The water drops against the earth will be our lullaby.
upcoverpardon in advance this declaration
apologizing with an alibi
but i need your bleaching acquit
for i'm vindicated within reasons
which are easily exonerated
to confirm my account
of stalling songs and dance
to be forgiven free off the hook
explaining with airtight assurance
the relieve of my liberation
in my profession of justification
LithiumOh how I crave the bare minimum of feeling
How much I need the emotional peeling
Somehow somewhere I would say no
But willpower I don’t have now I’m so low
They warn me against taking off the edge
I’m scared the edge may push me off the ledge
Not scared of loosing something I can’t recall
Not now when I’m just about to fall
the setting of sleeplessness
Your shirt moves with you,
directed by your figure,
shaded by the quick hand
of an unseen artist
and I thought to draw you
but I have no practice:
my fingers shaking,
palms never dry
Under the sheet,
you twist and murmur,
your eyes darting open,
daybreak on the horizon
but I've been awake
since the empty street.
You fall back, ask the time,
and dizzy the subject
"It's too early," you tell me,
"too early and too hot.
Let's sleep a little longer"
shaded in stripes,
daybreak on the horizon.
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