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Autumn Jun 2016
the troll beneath my bed has been in hibernation,
every night, the heavy breathing assures me.

God forbid it ever awakens,
it wreaked havoc on my chest for months.

without warning, its claws would reach into my eyes,
slash down my throat, and tear apart my rib cage.

over

and over

and over

and over again

teeth marks of blush pink scar my thin wrist,
forever a reminder.

for months, I felt the weight of this troll's body,
pinning me to my soft blue foam mattress.

at one point, the fairy of my body finally released her power,
she casted a sleeping curse, for it can't be killed.

its been stagnant for a while,
allowing me to dance as loud as I please!

lately, though

the breathing has been less heavy,
I hear it wake up sometimes, but just for an instant.

the spell is wearing off

soon, I will find more teeth marks on my wrist
  May 2016 Autumn
Owlycat
human life is so weird,
you wake up to an empty bed,
you make a half *** of coffee
because there is no one there to share
it with you,
you stare out the window
and imagine all the couples
sharing the news paper and
a morning cigarette,
you shower,
you get dressed,
you go to a mundane job
that you wish wouldn't **** you,
you come home to a messy flat,
you take off your shoes,
you go to the bathroom mirror
and look at your city filled pores,
you eat dinner,
you go to an unmade bed
that has more pillows than you need
just so it seems like someone else is
sleeping beside you,
you read the book thats been
sitting on your bedside table for
3 months because you just stare
at the word filled pages,
and then, out of nowhere,
you're asleep, dreaming of a different life.
i dont even know if what i write is good. it just comes out of my fingers... and then i decide to post it without even rereading it.... let me know what you think!
  Mar 2016 Autumn
JL
I retreat into myself
Into the corridors of me
I lounge on the well worn flagstones
Gazing on the marble columns
Arranging tapestries and paintings in
A more perfect order
I stalk down old hallways and explore unnamed galleries with a
Single candle to push back the deep
Sometimes rooms are filled with old Furniture
Sometimes entirely empty
Once feeling brave I held onto
The threshold of such a room and
Stretching out I hold the candle aloft in the chasm. Nothingness, darkness complete the light puddles at my feet pitiful.
When I recall that yawning abyss the silence of
It persists.
In ballrooms I play Chopin's waltzs' for no one  in particular
Yet I take my bow and my place at the head of a table set for a score of kings
I lay on marble steps trying to guess the riddles that my echo whispers
I climb the  towers and the spires to dizzying heights and many weeks I was lost in the labyrinth of cellars of basements of tombs beneath
I have seen strange things lately: a chair upturned or
Bed unmade, quills still wet, and doors open and shut of their own volition in the inky black
I swear I have seen before
A tall figure in a hooded cloak dart
Into the shadows, and it did not seem
Altogether human

I read for years inside my library  
And have spoken at length to Shakespeare and Plato
I have seen Yggdrasil and the seven hells
And sped through time with
H.G Wells. Of death and moon, of birds and galaxies I am enamored.
Tea with Julius Ceaser, chess with Captain Hook.
Breakfast with The Buddah
Coffee with The Christ
Did you know that Captain Ahab takes His water with a squeeze of lime? No Ice. Abraham Lincoln and Mark Twain know me by my first name, I have fenced with the Gods of Olympus and of Asgard and I remain undefeated. The divine crowd my hearth and many nights have been passed here in quiet conversation, with Confucius, with Archimedes, with Epictetus, Davinci, and the brothers Grimm
I have lived ten thousand lives and Will live another ten

-Without a single thought of you-

I wander
To my garden
Gently lit by paper lanterns
The path is smooth and heady
The amber blossoms
And weathered sculptures
Make my eyelids heavy
Monuments with fists clenched beat my
Ego ******
New flowers sprout from the ivy throat
Always things are grown but never overgrowing
I steal through the hedge maze that only I know
To the secret center where no plant grows
Pavilion and pond
Where no bird sings year long
In that quiet I endeavor
To look without fear
Into the pupil of forever
Some say writing is a good outlet
Some say writting is a good inlet
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