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Rachel Mar 13
You are acid laced gumdrops
You are a lie behind every smile
A caveat without caution
The ephemeralness of a dream

I am the fading of ventricles
Scrawling on chamber walls
A conspiracy of cohesive illusion
A dementia of endless reveries

We are the crossing of golden twilight
Apropos to tangents and parallels
A prism of algorithms and extrapolated differences
What abstract sequence of patterns could decipher the correlation of our two functions
Rachel Mar 2017
Me: I should move on. I should change. Be a new (better) person.
Aslo me: *hides in my memory palace
Rachel Mar 2017
Funny how you could spend a colossal amount of time stuck in the recesses of your mind. Lost on delicate thoughts about growing a herb garden or mulling over fictional characters.

Yea, me too.
Rachel Mar 2017
I need a buffer, a misdirect
To deflect from the imperfect
                                                       ­              The crucible of my life
                                                            ­         A taxidermy in disguise

My comforter, my safety blanket
Return me to the cul de sac

                                                            ­        An invalid, a nondescript
                                                            Thes­e are the traits of a misanthropist

I pacified, I toed the line
Sotto voce under pewter skies

                                                          ­         It'll run its course, I say in resolve
                                                         ­          This is how I  improv
                                                       ­             

                              My logic is not founded in reality
                                 This is the life of an escapist
Read it stand alone, top down or zig zag. Up to you. Whichever makes the most sense.
Rachel Dec 2016
In your drunken stupor, your head seemed to be straddling between your hamartia and unshakable fears.
You just sit and watch the lacerations with dilated pupils, internalizing everything.
You abide to this disillusioned joyride and wish for the dust to settle.
Only, nothing you said seemed to make an iota of difference.
Rachel Sep 2016
He slowly asphyxiate himself
His faith is seated in the back, while his despair rides shotgun
His bones had been replaced with steel, yet they gave way under the weight

He lighted another
The trail of little white puffs acted as smoke signal, a cry for help
He watched as she laid in silk lined with flowers
The stench of death clogged his brain, while verity sank into the apertures of his heart

He came back again, flowers in hand this time
He was far from glad that he no longer feels sad
He function fine now
Waiting for the color to return
Rachel Jun 2016
There was once a bunch of snobbish fools
Who acted like they were in preschool
They joined a club
Beat a guy up
But still the board overruled
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