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  Apr 2017 Dead Lock
One thing I learned
in my long college career
is that
I don't know a thing

I cannot read minds
nor fix this world
I still fall back to
this broken poetry

The place to be
we thought as youth
though in this life
it's a choice we choose

where you desire to be
is a figment of reality
a plan so mismal
to the burning sun

What faith you lack,
oh guilty one
on this track of life
you chose death!

In this college degree
I learned to see
not through intellect
but through emptiness

Poetry flows like gentle tides
before a hurricane
her sandy shores

Three jumps left
and two jumps right
the lord speaks
and I follow

Milk moonlight of divine delight
silky sheets of satin rose
nerves underneath
emit electricity
and birth

Lovers in my past
don't leave my mind
their faces exist
etched in time

Sink like a stone
through deep waters
fall to her blackness
and the dark sea's wonders

thin skin, a lighted hook
neon guppies glitter
in florescent
store light

Take heed when he calls
for the depressed ones
in your life

Always help
those in need
for you never know
when you, it could be

Solomon wrote
songs and poetry
they flowed from thought
as divine symphony
of what does this teach you of women?
Solomon had the most
of any man

Be true to yourself
and your dreams will come
not the dreams you've planned
but the one's- you stumble upon
A gentle tickle, a sudden pulse of electric energy
Dead Lock Mar 2017
I haven't been sleeping a lot lately

The world's been awfully rough lately

My decisions are a little


Old friendships have long since rusted

I'm not liked and I'm never trusted

Yet I'm okay with being hated

Then at least I know where I stand
Dead Lock Mar 2017
The old habit returns sometimes

It shows up at the door

Maybe it expects a handshake

Or a hug

An "I miss you" as I fall back into it

It entices me

Waves around the pain and blood

The 3 o'clock in the morning trips to the bathroom

Were I had nothing better to do

And no idea how I should really treat

The temple of a body I have

And the catacom that is my mind

And how not to listen to its rotting words
Stop self harming, you'll regret it.
Dead Lock Mar 2017
"Woe is us of the 60s and 70s.

Technology is ruining our lives.

Millennials don't talk to eachother but to screens.

Change is bad.

Thomas Edison was a witch."

Let us enjoy our commodities,

Our youth,

Our technologies,

And our expression,

As you do yours.

Dead Lock Feb 2017
My head is a tangled mass of string and wire

They don't connect

They don't lead into something greater

I am full of yarn and old embroidery thread
Dead Lock Feb 2017
She used to write poems about slitting her wrists

About monsters that did but did not exist

About band aids and stained paper towels

About grubby toilet seats and empty bowels

And well, now

She regret the scars

Fishing line trails out of them

Transparent until noticed

Then tangled and messy

Catching on hot sweaters in the summer

On the eyes of friends

Of her grandparents

She found them to no longer be the uneven lines of art she loved

She'd stick to colored pens
Don't self harm. It leads to lots of regret.
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