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brokensoul
There was a silence, That I could not miss, in my head, in my heart, in his sweet kiss. Said the wind to me, as I walked home, But isn't this better, Than being alone? I had no answer, but a blank-eyed stare. With pursed lips, I wished I could care. Leaves changed and turned, But I hung around, Waiting to be plucked, Hoping to be found. And on a low branch I sat, Watching life pass me by, Blowing further away, With each passing sigh. I wandered on the wind, With no end in sight, Sleeping where I was lain, each dreary night. The sun rose gracefully, with her morning rays, A new day she hearkened, and yesterday's grave.
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Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
Time
They say, what goes up must come down, They don't, what goes down must come up. Is the potential limitless then, of the depth of lowliness of your obscurity? Until at last they forget, you Were once on the planes of the masses.
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
What goes up
Windswept locks on end, tugging at my mind. Stretching from my soul, a welded tube strains. A bird in a cage, wearing away bars. Reams of coiled rope squirm flapping at my sides. Thin sticks move in pairs and poke at the dark. The dark that ne'er leaves, my side nor inside. It clings with purpose. Is it worse when the pressure comes from inside? Is it worse when you can't escape and implode? Oh!
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May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Is it worse
A little pressure's good, makes me feel alive. A spurt, a ******* a gasp for air. Notice what it's like to draw breath on a glasspane, a fleeting sign of life. Disappears, rises into the sky or falls to the ground, who knows, unstuck from the tangible, an invisible mist, particles from a soul, drifting unhinged. Do they come back? I don't know. Do we lose a little of our soul with every exhalation every sigh of sadness of elation. Something drawn in, openmouthed, gaping. A little fear, of something unknown? All our lives: give a little of ourselves, take a little something else.
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Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
Breathe
Sometimes I want to speak. But it's like the words are caught on something, feels like fear. Tastes like warmth filling up, squeezing out space. My breath catches. Entangled in nerves, veins, arteries and rigid bone. A mesh. Fear's web. Words try to come out but nothing. not even a gasp for air.
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Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
Choke
A caress. Like none other. Fibery fingers on my neck. Coarse, but strong. These fingers knew. Knew what they were doing. Snug, around my neck. Supporting my head. My heavy head Felt so heavy. I rested it against the fingers So soothing. Trusting. It felt right. This intimate embrace. Between my friend and I my noose and I.
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Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 11:21 AM UTC
My noose and I