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kelly-pye
Canadian i stared into the sun looking for answers. never was too good at making decisions eh?
smoke hangs soft in the kitchen like a swimmer's long hair pushed smoothly by currents no one could see there and the sun slips down to sit on my sink as i turn black and blue slowly starting to think: your rhyme is like lime great, after tequila but I know how you feel- a, loner and bitter unstable but strong we had something so real but it didn't take long before we we both cracked and with it the bond but now i obsess on simile and confess to to sad, simple apostrophe when I should have said what you mean to me and described you the way only I can see but I'm probably vain and must have been wrong cause I've felt before that I'd always be alone though while in your arms I felt so at home while we both did sleep window cracked for a breeze with both of our dreams dripping into the streets but it was honey, and warm and safe under the sheets where I listened to your running subconscious spring I could see all your thoughts but can't wear your ring then we watched rising tides break over your head and how i still miss being rocked in your bed
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May 23, 2011
May 23, 2011 at 9:40 PM UTC
black and blue
age has made us bleak always bow down i am your golden hypocritical saint you are sad and frustrated i am a figure of all you trust and i dissolve like rust and here you can stand or like me you can crumble we are beings of earth but we worship to the sky i am skeleton i look in god's eye you won't know heaven until you die but you see by then its too late to get high the words you say softly are the ones to live by so starts the end and the figure will cry listen to Mrs. moon she will teach you to lie worship the earth we don't live in the sky
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Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 9:02 PM UTC
the figurehead
my mask fell victim to the dance floor while he was dancing with drunk blondes so **** dressed as a cop pushing pills three girls grinding on his leg and i bought one and wanted to **** the faces and the tongues of the ***** he ignored me for it would have been very courtney love of me very punk rock but i grabbed their ***** and licked my lips at them because whats his was mine and he knew the painted eyes on my back saw their every move and every dollar from those girls goes to our cigarettes but later i found out that was all we kept in common
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Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 9:09 PM UTC
rave story
brown liquor sorrow drips over your lips draining into the black telephone receiver while white vapours rise up like a fever drifting over the endless oceans in your eyes you get such stormy news over distant lines though i crave your *** soaked laughter you always seem to shatter black waves of sick emotion cascading off into the ocean
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Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 12:14 AM UTC
captain
the agony of endless clocks burning deep red digital hours into equally deep red eyes like coming off hallucinogens time etches into your mind with endless delirious atrophy screaming meaningless words into the blackhole of your thoughts ******* you deeper into realms where the night is ungodly and you are an animal in its midst breathing silently in the silence facing a grinning monsters kiss that will shoot you with adrenaline right as you wish to close your eyes right as you wish to close your eyes the  sandman trips another line in the murky distance a siren cries "degenerating madly on the floor love the ****** we ask for more"
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Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 12:12 AM UTC
love the ******
if not in me then in who if not in me do you put your faith in God? who you know does not exist. if not with me then for no one is it to hear. I am an old soul growing senile and would not mind a story sometimes i feel it my destiny to always be alone and have many loves sometimes i feel i will have to walk this earth 12 times and that ive already gone around 6 though still in my youth still surrounded by those i love I know they will fade and love will be the first passion to fizzle out and then my bedroom will be full of rage and all the other passions which are harder to exhaust
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Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
under stars
On god's paved Earth the holy men are wrong they preach to broken glass buried under flesh and skin and fabric. We should all be crying; mourning the bleeding Earth in the Gulf of Mexico belching out its own poison but. I am concrete. wishing tears would run down my face screaming into the Forest "You are all that is holy" and the holy men are wrong the preach unto each other under money and control and the american dream redefining morality to suit your needs. they ignore a pattern so simple a pattern found in dirt; bred in dirt for intelligent life it is strange that we are the only ones who do not know our meaning. the amoeba knows because Life is simple, and It is simple. do not believe the holy men even if your thoughts are shards of broken glass even if your insides are incased in concrete. like mine it makes me so sick, but i Know and turn to your naked body saying "You are all that is holy"
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Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 11:35 PM UTC
we are not concrete
you know you've gotten away with everything except your mental health the love of the world dies within you and you rely on paranoia and stealth to get away with everything remains the only goal looking for a tomorrow to try and fill the hole you feel within you emptiness within you no one else would live a life like this unless they felt that gnawing that screaming cursing burning, drawing you to the brink loosing your mental health
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Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
HAHAHA.
he walked so well, the fine line: between humour and horror. laughing at the broken people do they not understand? they are alive? it would be easy to leave a man such as this, alone. hardest to keep him safe from himself glowing in his eyes a certain madness is defined giggling. a well refined lack of control i didnt doubt his capability in the sightless dark i was afraid of what those eyes were thinking it was destruction it was madness it was a choice it was a cheshire cat smile and mad hatter speech he was oozing the poison of a snapping mind dropping into the streets at the ungodly hours to wander... remembering there is nowhere to go my friend i cannot do but hope and smile and give you warmth. but im so afraid that love cannot patch the hole... wherever it may be.
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May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 7:08 PM UTC
control is in the eyes
soaked deeply in sunlight's yellow wandering nomad, travelling fellow you follow the dust of another's dream in the gravel crunch and rail yard scream cigarette butts and unwashed hair he's forever too far away to care another sip, another bottle hop a train and be gone tomorrow no subtle emotions made the lines on your face but you know every story has its place following the light, nomad of the sunshine heart wrapped up and your hands entwine
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May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 2:38 PM UTC
merry traveller