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brett-cooper
American
i'msorrythere'sgottabeabetterwaytodothisbutyougottaknowit'sjustthat when i wrote you that letter, all scribbles and nothings i kissed every page although i knew that you'd never know i was all kinds of ****** up and i don't mean i was on some thing this time just that you make me feel nervous and cautious, like i want you to think i'm smart think i'm charming and worthwhile and you see i'm not so used to that because for me it's so easy to tell them it means nothing tell them i'm not looking and that's what i want what i wanted where i was but then i lifted my gaze that day from my thoughts to the way your laugh would follow up from the words off my tongue and noticed i could not care less bout anything else else else so then we kept it all going and you know how it happens one look sticks too long and there lies the problem, so so you push and you push and i get pushed a way but i'll just keep on talking i'll just keep on crossing my digits that there's something there's something there's something there's something cause the way i see it i think you're just scared i think that you're scared of the things i could make you feel maybe it's because of what they did to you be fore we met but for one reason or another that's just the way that it is but i will not be okay with that be just fine with it 'cause i see through your **** so i push and i push and you feel pushed away but that's the opposite effect i'd like my ac tions to take so what do i say what can i do i get out the bottles i get out the dealers i play through charades and i smile and smile and i wait and all of the while there's this thought floating a round in the back of my head and it's just your name how it would feel so nice to say feel so nice to feel like it was my name to say was my name to hold onto but then i get pulled back to present timing and it floats all the way back to the back of my head then i pick up old ways then i sigh old habits to replace what i want what i want and i get lost and get lost and get lost and get lost til i'm found but til then i get lost and get lost and get lost and get lost and well when i wrote you that let ter i was all kinds of ****** up and when i read it i burned it and when i burned it i saw your name at the top turn to ash and blow away and it killed me it killed me it did
0
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 1:08 AM UTC
Happendings
i'msorrythere'sgottabeabetterwaytodothisbutyougottaknowit'sjustthat when i wrote you that letter, all scribbles and nothings i kissed every page although i knew that you'd never know i was all kinds of ****** up and i don't mean i was on some thing this time just that you make me feel nervous and cautious, like i want you to think i'm smart think i'm charming and worthwhile and you see i'm not so used to that because for me it's so easy to tell them it means nothing tell them i'm not looking and that's what i want what i wanted where i was but then i lifted my gaze that day from my thoughts to the way your laugh would follow up from the words off my tongue and noticed i could not care less bout anything else else else so then we kept it all going and you know how it happens one look sticks too long and there lies the problem, so so you push and you push and i get pushed a way but i'll just keep on talking i'll just keep on crossing my digits that there's something there's something there's something there's something cause the way i see it i think you're just scared i think that you're scared of the things i could make you feel maybe it's because of what they did to you be fore we met but for one reason or another that's just the way that it is but i will not be okay with that be just fine with it 'cause i see through your **** so i push and i push and you feel pushed away but that's the opposite effect i'd like my ac tions to take so what do i say what can i do i get out the bottles i get out the dealers i play through charades and i smile and smile and i wait and all of the while there's this thought floating a round in the back of my head and it's just your name how it would feel so nice to say feel so nice to feel like it was my name to say was my name to hold onto but then i get pulled back to present timing and it floats all the way back to the back of my head then i pick up old ways then i sigh old habits to replace what i want what i want and i get lost and get lost and get lost and get lost til i'm found but til then i get lost and get lost and get lost and get lost and well when i wrote you that let ter i was all kinds of ****** up and when i read it i burned it and when i burned it i saw your name at the top turn to ash and blow away and it killed me it killed me it did
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182
there's a strange symmetry to the words we speak, because i see the twinkling waves your mouth has formed. yes, i'd be your albatross if you let me but not to weigh you down. no, let me show you where i sleep among the stars and thinning air. you see, i'm tired of flying alone or with birds too weak to follow, but i've spotted you sailing thrice beneath me, and the shake of your scent still stings my senses. and though my beak just wants to speak quite clearly "hello, young maiden, care to join me?" my tongue only fumbles and sings my song. listen, listen, can't you hear it? then i awoke. cold and alone, with the sheets still wrapped 'round me. oh, where had i been? only moments ago i could've sworn i was out to sea but what of my dreams? so vivid and sleek, yet intangible to the core. more bitter than sweet, still stumbling through sleep, i can't help but think that i've seen this before in the back of my mind lies an albatross dead, adrift in the ocean's spray. just a memory told to no one at all, before it quietly slipped away. i feel it slipping away.
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Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 5:28 PM UTC
The Only Language I Know
i thought of you this morning when i was stood up for lunch and i drove by your neighborhood but that house is emptier than even my stomach now churning, and up to no good and it's not from the food (or the lack of it all) but a process now picking up pace a cancerous longing, a wish left to waste a silence a rage now taking it's place well, i've been spendin my time just walkin the streets and making friends with all the dumb insects i meet and the moths have been asking me for a light and i know i'll oblige them, it's not worth the fight and they're swarming around me, every which way and just blocking my visions, aiding decay and their suckers make shapes, yeah they pierce like a knife and it kills me to tell em you're not part of my life anymore.
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Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 8:46 PM UTC
Persounds
I want to know what goes on behind those pretty little eyes before the night has won you over yet again. I want to know where you sleep and if there's room enough for me Is that so bad? I'm sorry. I just don't quite know how to say what's been on my mind. It's no longer the scent of you, but the idea of something swift enough to knock the wind up out of me Released like a dandelion's spores to the sun, forever drifting, never certain. Signals displayed like a backwards highway road sign. Reduced speed ahead. Icy Conditions. Stop. I get it. Don't think this is linear. This is as open ended as a tired maze. a lazy labyrinth. I've got options. I've got options! Not a should have, but a would have. As I float upon the stream of consciousness, it happens. Your face in a photo. My hand through your hair. Glimpses of images I'll never remember when I need to. Your breath was hot. My pupils were huge. Silence. Everlasting Silence. Forever in fifteen. Beauty in my presence. You always were quiet just right. Lost sandals. Walking with purpose. Parties. Empty kids at the table. ******** Rainy Days. Political ******** A monologue of copied words with meanings applied. Over music The soft staccato, the quickening pulse, the minor key trying to be major, to prove that he's changed, but he just needs a chance. The song ends diminished, and everyone walks off. Dejected. Distraught. Dying to know why.
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Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 1:00 PM UTC
The Sound of Present Tense
ha-hahaa you lost it, didn'tcha? dintcha? your shooting stars were bombs but at least you got your wish through out fr*m th&se; wh~spered he%d tunes ahhh yeah, but it's not always like that breathe breathe breathe sigh a heave heave heave sleep a dream dream dream and open all the little senses among the trees you helped to weather the light cubes drip inside, and dip and glide each time you feel the heat, reach out and ohhhhhh~~ and then just go wellll yeah, but it's cant quite be like that remember now? do ya? do ya? so electrons stopped their shuffling i mean, that's how it happens and lordy, how the time passed and how nothing ever reminded anything.
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Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 1:16 PM UTC
what if we all saw in different colors?
now, every time, it's like looking a complete stranger in the eye and saying "I want to know everything about you," only to have them reply "I'm not sure we've met." and so you cut your hair and so you take your walk and so you have the same conversation over and over and over and over and over and over and over until you can't anymore, because you can't anymore. one way or another, you'll just keep starting over (and over) (and over) (and over)
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Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 9:11 PM UTC
It Sounded Better When You Said It
Calloused fingers trace their intentions upon the smoothest silk of skin, like waves reflecting the moon's light back to a sunless state of day. We've braved the trenches of social interactions, the jungles of communications, and have reached the plateau, contently entwined in one another. But the bell curve proved too willing to be true. In a moment, I am that same boy falling from the sidewalk, draped in misconception, losing vision to a passing stranger and sheer coincidence. But this is no trauma of the head! I fear it is much more vital, much more fleeting. Much more needed, much more weary Much more lethal, much more guarded My mouth runs on empty when my heart stops supplying and I expect only the worst. But the feeling's so appealing to just let go and lift up, exhaust your ambiguities and leave fate to sift through it all. Because I'm better than that. Because You're better than that. Because, at the end of it all, we're all better than that. The wind will blow and the earth will spin. Wars will be fought and men I'll never meet will demand obedience. There will be new names, and legends continued. Things will change, and things will never change. This is not important. I wrote this poem because I wanted you to know I think some things are. I wrote this poem because I move too fast for my own good. I wrote this poem because I am hopelessly hopeful. I wrote this poem because you destroyed a black hole, and you don't even know it. However, Thisisnotimportant.
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Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 8:43 AM UTC
Only Natural
Calloused fingers trace their intentions upon the smoothest silk of skin, like waves reflecting the moon's light back to a sunless state of day. We've braved the trenches of social interactions, the jungles of communications, and have reached the plateau, contently entwined in one another. But the bell curve proved too willing to be true. In a moment, I am that same boy falling from the sidewalk, draped in misconception, losing vision to a passing stranger and sheer coincidence. But this is no trauma of the head! I fear it is much more vital, much more fleeting. Much more needed, much more weary Much more lethal, much more guarded My mouth runs on empty when my heart stops supplying and I expect only the worst. But the feeling's so appealing to just let go and lift up, exhaust your ambiguities and leave fate to sift through it all. Because I'm better than that. Because You're better than that. Because, at the end of it all, we're all better than that. The wind will blow and the earth will spin. Wars will be fought and men I'll never meet will demand obedience. There will be new names, and legends continued. Things will change, and things will never change. This is not important. I wrote this poem because I wanted you to know I think some things are. I wrote this poem because I move too fast for my own good. I wrote this poem because I am hopelessly hopeful. I wrote this poem because you destroyed a black hole, and you don't even know it. However, Thisisnotimportant.
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29
your voice was some kind of faint afterthought drifting around in the ether. i reached with fingertips stretched only barely to graze what had left as swiftly as it came in that moment, in that perfectly fleeting instant, i felt whole and brave. but the whole turned to half and the brave didn’t catch. sure, it’s a thorn in my side (more like a mark on my hide), but my lungs will still fill with every drop of air they could ever care to hold and breathe, i shall. you see, my mistakes have led me down a path and my life has given me a past and i've known forevers that don't last and i've mixed my treasures with my trash for, you see, some things don't happen (though i wish they would) but it's all the bad that makes us good
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Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 8:37 AM UTC
All the Bad that makes us Good
each beam broke through the blanket of clouds streaming past the mountain's edge on it all to come crashing to ground to emblazon its promise to each tree extending its arms because they've prayed for years to stop being thirsty and scared of what they don't know and can't see so when the light set it off and cried "never fear, we still want you to live! and to die! and to breathe!" they all danced in the wind and went to great lengths to send all their expressions of joy and release. and that's the story i told you when you wondered how it was i came to see you again the light never left us no, there were just clouds refusing to break or to bend
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Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 8:35 AM UTC
Valeez
Heavy sleep. Alarm clock blaring. The bus I missed. The way you looked at me when I sat down. How you liked the shirt I was wearing. My awkward compliment on your outfit. Your number in my phone. Paying for the first date with you. For the third. The incredible *** Paying for the twentieth date. Months passing. Two Anniversaries and one ring. The apartment we bought. The bed we shared. The things we said. The moments we had together. Overwhelmed by my feelings for you. Wrestling in the kitchen. Quiet nights at home. Pet names. A sense of comfort. The time that went by. The stress from your job. My overtime at work. Not tonight dear, I have a headache. Arguing over directions. Nothing to worry about, just a rough patch. Silence at dinner. The big fight. The divorce papers. Your confession that you never loved me. The hole where my heart used to be. All the alcohol I drank. All the women I ****** Convincing myself that I’m past you. Time at the gym. Wave to the cute girl at the bar. Get a haircut. Start a diet. Smile at strangers. Buy a new car. Just fine, never better. See you with him at the grocery store. My silent indignation. His hand with yours. The tears on the way home. Grinding my teeth. I'm too good for you anyway. The beer I consumed. The tree I drove into. The meetings I went to. The way I hated myself. The way I hated you. The way I still loved you. The way I knew I always would. The way I hated realizing that. The depression. The ************ Still sleeping on the right side of the bed. The volunteer hours I completed. The charity worker I met. The mediocre *** The way she said she understood me. My guard coming down. Forgetting the way you looked. Deleting the messages I saved. Sighing. My second marriage. The kids she had with me. The years that melted together. Hearing you moved a while back from an old neighbor. Long walks by myself. Everyday seeming the same. Never feeling right. All the years I woke up cold, alone, still wishing you were next to me.
0
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 8:34 AM UTC
The Science of Love
Heavy sleep. Alarm clock blaring. The bus I missed. The way you looked at me when I sat down. How you liked the shirt I was wearing. My awkward compliment on your outfit. Your number in my phone. Paying for the first date with you. For the third. The incredible *** Paying for the twentieth date. Months passing. Two Anniversaries and one ring. The apartment we bought. The bed we shared. The things we said. The moments we had together. Overwhelmed by my feelings for you. Wrestling in the kitchen. Quiet nights at home. Pet names. A sense of comfort. The time that went by. The stress from your job. My overtime at work. Not tonight dear, I have a headache. Arguing over directions. Nothing to worry about, just a rough patch. Silence at dinner. The big fight. The divorce papers. Your confession that you never loved me. The hole where my heart used to be. All the alcohol I drank. All the women I ****** Convincing myself that I’m past you. Time at the gym. Wave to the cute girl at the bar. Get a haircut. Start a diet. Smile at strangers. Buy a new car. Just fine, never better. See you with him at the grocery store. My silent indignation. His hand with yours. The tears on the way home. Grinding my teeth. I'm too good for you anyway. The beer I consumed. The tree I drove into. The meetings I went to. The way I hated myself. The way I hated you. The way I still loved you. The way I knew I always would. The way I hated realizing that. The depression. The ************ Still sleeping on the right side of the bed. The volunteer hours I completed. The charity worker I met. The mediocre *** The way she said she understood me. My guard coming down. Forgetting the way you looked. Deleting the messages I saved. Sighing. My second marriage. The kids she had with me. The years that melted together. Hearing you moved a while back from an old neighbor. Long walks by myself. Everyday seeming the same. Never feeling right. All the years I woke up cold, alone, still wishing you were next to me.
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