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sam-chin
American Inspired by the thought of revolution and the fear of living.
I catch the moths between my fingers, and linger as their bodies and my shameless slaughter are both washed down by warm water. Not yet suffocated by my hands sometimes they still flutter but they'll be dead before the taking of bread and butter. "My record is three today", I say to her so she'll pray.
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Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 9:01 AM UTC
28.
I will find you when you are broken like beer bottles in parking lots; collect the pieces so the neighborhood children don't marr their bare feet. We will walk along the highway, on the grass-cracked sidewalk until it is no more. And then I will spread you like ashes because I could never bear to bury you.
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Jun 19, 2011
Jun 19, 2011 at 11:53 AM UTC
29.
I look at you and your **** American family, I wish I could wave a flag and mindless believe for just a moment. Today and tomorrow and all the days before, I'll wait with the ghosts of the civil war. I can tell you your history-- founding fathers to your own but what does that matter when my very own dad left me alone. Pop culture don't matter, they say with a huff, but that's all they talk about these days enough is enough. Culture culture culture, that's all I am good for it overpowers all that I am like the world after rain. Today and all days, I am torn between passion and blood. You can laugh and smile, but my minor school book awards, give me reason sometimes. It's just the way I was raised. I hate the idea of you and your perfect American family. Yet how can I love something so foreign, so far from myself?
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Jun 18, 2011
Jun 18, 2011 at 10:23 PM UTC
27.
Idle prattle left behind on the linoleum, we walk in silence. Sometimes in the humming dinn of the radio, I mouth words hoping you'll hear. But that's all we've become.
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Jun 5, 2011
Jun 5, 2011 at 11:26 PM UTC
26.
Perhaps the best form kind of kindness, is not the ever present support of friends and kind words of parents or even the sweet words of a lover. But rather the simple true thoughtfulness of an aquaintance. Allow me to hold open doors and smile at strangers and leave flowers on graves because the best is unexpected.
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Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 9:18 PM UTC
25.
I think you cryptic, think you wise. Perhaps in that is our demise. A sophomore in the bloom of youth to you I speak, with words uncouth. Apologize f'r my deplorable acts: my unkind gestures, my lack of tact. Intentions mean well, I want nothing but good Show me atonement, and I'll do as I should. Dear acquaintance, not friend nor foe, I'd like to continue, I hope you don't go.
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Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:26 PM UTC
24.
Remove me from existence, please. I no longer wish to be. There is a pleading melody. That I would like to flee. And as the buzz of people, Draw so near and far. I putter down the county road, In my little car. I gaze upon the cattle, The sparkling city lights. I ponder upon sleeping pills, I begin to see blank white. Perhaps I may have overdosed, A mistake I should not make. I cannot hear his mutterings, And I do not partake. Like stepping on intangibles, Or eating blanketed air, I cannot hear the inaudible, love what is not there. And as I creep into a room, Filled with dust and fear, A bit of nostalgia, Falls into my ear. It dances to my brain, you see. And then into my heart. It is a terrible sin, missing such a part. Like a robot armless, Or a flightless dove, I want simplicity and untruth, Human and God above.
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Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:23 PM UTC
23.
My heart leaps up at the smiles of strangers that glance at me on morning trains. A simple nod to my existence and understanding of my pains. Let me not die should no one smile at me, but since I'm young, simply smile and offer up my seat.
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Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:22 PM UTC
22.
My heart leaps up at the smiles of strangers that glance at me on morning trains. A simple nod to my existence and understanding of my pains. Let me not die should no one smile at me, but since I'm young, simply smile and offer up my seat.
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Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:22 PM UTC
21.
Tell me your love in sweet sonnets and confess to me everything, impassioned. I want to be raving, feeling every passing moment with quivering ferocity. What which was so unlimited suddenly become impossibly small. Words too impercise. Motion holds me too tight. Only explosions of myself could make me feel alive. It is too hard to simply be alive.
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Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 4:20 PM UTC
20.