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Love is like water

It ebbs and flows to the currents of emotions

It can wash over you like a baptism

It can pelt you like a waterfall

And sometimes leave you drained and dry

Love is like water

Lets take a drink
Pour that Whiskey Girl...
Pour it down on me...
Down over the gaping hole in my chest.
Let me feel the burn. Feel the rage of fire run through me.
That burning desire to both hate and love you.
The rush of emotions I dare not feel again.
Not now.
Not yet.
That fire was extinguished.
Maybe it'll come back.
not as a full flame
but as a spark that never goes out.
Hopefully one day...
You'll fuel that spark.
Help it become a fire again...
Until then it will stay here.
Locked in a jar
with holes in the lid.
Waiting for you to open it.
My Heart of Glass

It lays there's safe on a pillow of feathers

Laying there cold

Cracked and full of holes

But where is the Glassmith?

The one who can fix this fragile heart

Where is she to close the cracks

To fill in the holes

Who will mend my glass heart?

Laying cold among the feathers
Youre nothing sick and sad
Eyes dark as old blood
Skin pale and cracked
Breath of vomite and bile
a voice that makes ears bleed
Skin and bones is all you are
Disgusting and vile
Others may not see it
I know its true
Remember when I loved you
Love can be painful
The neighbors are having a party.
Young women are seduced by young men
and the cycle of life has evolved into this
degradation of humanity in the 21st century.
I have taken a large part myself.
Now, however, I sit a room away
with this keyboard, a case of beer
and this pack of cigarettes,
bullying this keyboard as I
punch words out of thin air.

I would take my party over theirs any day.
Wispy threads of sticky string,
Floating, shining, glistening,
Hung between, around, and under
When disturbed they’re torn asunder.

Arachnid dancers casting lines
Swinging softly from silver vines
Spinning patterns, weaving nets
Trapping, eating small insects.

Wrapping meals which to devour
Waiting patient by the hour
Stealthy death by poison sting
Awaits the prey of a spiders string.
Rivulets of milky stars
shimmer in the void
crackling blinding likenesses
on gurgling waters devoid

Rippling mirrors wrinkly smooth
tipped with liquid light
refreshed and ever moving
while natures subject remains in sight

The canvas of the fluid earth
absorbs the heavenly art
while babbling notes of calmness
in its naturally aesthetic part.
My melancholy temperament left the stench of death
upon my lovers hands and all the places that we went
Her lips were poison
The flower that bled venom
now coursed through my veins
I was off!
"to hell and back," I said.
But now I cant quite seem to find my way back
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