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 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Jack Gladstone
we were just two more methland residents, dreams floating in our heads.
we were hoping to prove the american dream was not quite really dead.

but times sure change and so do dreams.

i guess.

We're not the next Spielbergs
We're not the next Mansons
we're too Fu^&ed; up for that.

but maybe some of our dreams won't die.
you and I can keep some alive.

We're not the next Clintons
We're not the next Tolstoys
we're not skilled enough for that.

I'll carry the 2.5 kids if you will buy the house.
They will paint the picket fence white and we'll hide
quiet as mice but acting like rabbits.

I'm not Ward and you're not June
but this will work out anyway.

we're not the next Cleavers
we're not the next Bradys
We're at least better than that.
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Jack Gladstone
Always thinkin' bout somethin
Always talkin' bout nothin'
Always doin nothin'

quit talkin' bout it

Just keep sing sing sing sing sing sing singin along

don't make no decisions.
counter productive tunnel vision.

we're spinnin wheels, never shiftin gears, diggin ourselves deeper in the rut.
trying to escape the black hole still covered in regional sludge.

but what are ya gonna do?
the last line is a cop out as i found this in an old notebook unfinished and lazily added that... my apologies.
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Geli A
I started the habit of falling inlove with boys
who have second names, when I was fifteen years old.
Half drunk at a party and seeing you at a corner.
Smoldering in the fire of a deep dark secret.
And here I am, dying to take the flame between my lips,
so it may scorch every inch of my being.
I watch you take a cigarette,
cradle the burn between your lungs.
It made me want to reach inside your chest.
To feel the smoke between your ribs, pass my fingers
So I ran out of my perfectly still house
into the hearth of your heart
Only to run inside the chaos of a burning city.
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Geli A
They have turned us over their tongues a thousand times
And scattered us all over the world until we are dust
No one would believe us and even if they did,
The world does not need another love story
Men are dying in Gaza
Men are dying in our backyards
So it doesn’t matter if I am dying inside
There are bigger things to fight for
I cannot even win the war against myself
There is nothing worse than the guilt
Of not being able to live outside of my head
But you still calmly make tea in the kitchen,
Quietly covering up sharp edges
Until I’m ready to throw up the pills
I know I am not a worthy cause
But you take time to keep my demons at bay
Until one day I could join you in a demonstration
Taking on actual demons like the capitalist pigs and imperialist America
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Stellar
9 Words
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Stellar
I**  Miss  You
in bloodshot eyes
and
splintered regrets
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Jake Griffith
Let's never talk again,
because if we do
we'll both fall apart
in each others arms
and when that happens,
we can never be held again.
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
gmg
Dead Flowers
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
gmg
There's a garden full of flowers that no one gives a second look too. The only reason no one stops to gaze at the beauty of them or take a picture to share with friends is because the garden is full of dead flowers. No one notes the beauty of the wilted petals of them or how they're still partially standing even though they've long lost their color. No matter how much love and care these flowers get they will never be the same again because they already died and you can't change something like that. In this garden there's still some living flowers, but they're one step away from dying, and no one would care anyway. The garden is overrun with weeds taking any life still showing in the flowers destroying them even more. But these dead flowers are still beautiful through the death they have gone through. Dead flowers make me sad, they remind me of funerals, and the way we mark our favorite bible verses, our favorite pages, with a certain type, they remind me of sadness, like they no longer want to bow down to the sun, they just want to die off and be forgotten, kind of like me. You see, you weren't so much a green thumb, you made everything wilt, instead of strong and tall. You know how dead flowers are weak and brittle?¿ well, you made my body decompose while I was still much alive, it's like you liked to feel my body break. I hoped for rescue, I hope you'd take my hands out of my pockets, and tell me I wouldn't be stuck in this **** town forever, and we'd run away together. Definition of safe was sitting still, but how was I supposed to when this silence was destroying me?¿ you left me, and I became an abandoned hospital, wanting to help others from feeling the way I do, like a vacant amusement park, but how was I supposed to help them when I couldn't even help myself?¿ flowers must feel the same way after you teased them for so long, telling them they'd end up on some pretty girls doorstep, but they eventually got tired of waiting, tired of your *******, tired of your unfulfilled promises. I walk into this garden of dead flowers, maybe because I just want somewhere I can fit in because god knows I don't belong anywhere. I take some flowers with me, to remind me of myself, but mostly to remind me of you. The garden is now behind me because I can't bear to look at this death and pain anymore. I drop the flowers at your door, maybe you'll think of me when you see the way they're wilted and broken. Maybe you'll put them in a vase to try and keep them alive even though they're long past their expiration date and nothing you can do will bring them back to life. Just like the way you killed me and tried to fix your mistakes with some flowers that were soon to die like everything you touch does. I guess most things I find are already dead too so we must not be that different, you **** things and everything I know is being killed. I guess I should stop thinking about dead things and you because that does nothing but make me sad. My flowers are now in a glass cup, but with no water because no amount of care can make them survive, but I guess I couldn't leave them there because I can never leave dead things alone no matter what I do, even dead things need to be loved by someone. I hope when these dead flowers see the light, they go to heaven, and I know they're just flowers, but how come I'm doing the "polite" thing and pulling them out one by one, kissing them and laying them out to sundry?¿ if god won't accept them, well I'll just have to give him my hands, it won't be enough, but he can have them anyway. This is who I'm supposed to be, I'm supposed to be the bigger person here... I'm going to bury our memories and see what re-grows, and if rusty nails with pointy heads pop up, pointy enough to cut my index finger on and cause me to get a tetanus shot, well I know we weren't worth it, but we tried, we tried...
writing collab with twitter user @xlachrymose
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Liz
Show care
 Jul 2014 CM Cain
Liz
Show care for yourself
Your thoughts and your soul
Your neighbor as well
Avoid the black hole

You will be grateful
He as well
That you cared enough
You are not in Hell
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