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 Dec 2012 Haley
Jeremy Duff
Oh you're face,
oh so full of beauty and so full of grace,
and oh how i hate your graceful ******* face.

I once heard a man say
If i don't go to hell when i die then i might go to heaven,
but probably not

and it has always stuck with me.

And i have made it a habit of mine to not capitalize my i's.
Because really, what's so important about me that i should be capitalized?
And what's so important about God that "He" may be capitalized?
And what's so important about Jesus that he should have a book written about him?
It's not like Jesus even had a biological father, anyway.

And why are we here?
And why does Santa live in the North Pole?
It's so inconvenient.
Why would the man who gives toys to all the kids in the world live in one of the few places on Earth that has no kids?

The word that really should be capitalized is Earth.
Earth is everything.
And Stars should be capitalized as well.
After all, we are all made of Stars.

And just one final thought, before i click save poem and shot my laptop and try to get some sleep,
why do people say The Universe?
As if they aren't more.
Why does ours get to be called "The" Universe with a capitalized T and U?
And one final thought (I promise this is the final thought) what's so important about capitalizing anyway?
 Dec 2012 Haley
bobby burns
i don't
even know him.
i only recognize his vitals
rapidly diminishing on
the screen before me.

i'm wrong, this is wrong,
everything is wrong.
i'm trespassing on
vulnerability.

he knows;
he gets it --
how this place
can make you
feel like hell
without even
trying.

if belief were among
my faults, indeed
it would **** me to
scroll again  
        (and again)
through artificial
papyrus, through
reeds and lights
and electronics;

because every
new click
brings another
wrench.
tug at the
heartstrings;
what heartstrings?
these leave nothing behind.

because of you,
i am destroyed.
i am assimilated,
i am protein.
because of you,
i am denatured.

turn down your flame, nolan,
there isn't enough fuel
for you to burn so
brightly
for so
long.
 Dec 2012 Haley
Jeremy Duff
E.L.C.
 Dec 2012 Haley
Jeremy Duff
Today, I had an urge to tell you that I will write a poem about you.
I told you and you embraced me. I held you tight, careful to not get my burning cigarette in your hair.

You make me happy, which is something I haven't been able to say to anybody in a long time.
And it's constant, it's everlasting. It's beautiful.
I'll giggle and I feel like I'm high.
I am high, but I have not smoked.
Yeah, that's corny and I do not give a single care.
But I give two cares about you.
And I give three cares about holding your hand, not squeezing it too hard.
And I give four cares about holding your body close to mine.
And I give five cares about kissing you.
And I give six cares about us.
And I give seven cares about your hair, not lighting it on fire, or touching it too much.
And I give eight cares about nothing. I'm just not capable.
But if I could, I think they would be about you.
I'm not used to being happy, and I guess it shows in my writing. Sorry but not sorry.
 Dec 2012 Haley
Jeremy Duff
If someone wrote a book about me,
about my life,
it would be boring.
It would be the same thing everyday with occasional flare ups of happiness and love.
The ending would be good though.
The part where the main character kills himself, that will make the book.
Up until the final chapter it will be boring but you have to read it.
You have to understand.
You have to understand why the book must end.
 Dec 2012 Haley
bobby burns
because i always notice
the little changes in
my twos and capital As,
the slant replacing a
deceptive curve in the
final letter of my name,
the necessary angles
and perpendicular
attitude of my things,
seeking control in
unconventional
places, because i
can't seem to get
a firm handle on
anything else.
incomplete people
with little habits
of a partner
to smooth out
their edges and
fill in their flaws
are luckier than
those who have
to do it themselves.
 Dec 2012 Haley
bobby burns
how i forget to cherish
these little moments
of our togetherness;
making an early meal
of sauteed vegetables
and eggs, "froached"
like i used to call them
when i was your little
chef and would bring
you breakfast on
special occasions,
and sometimes on
sundays, just because
it was sunday and dad
didn't have to leave
for work long before
the crack of dawn
even set its alarm.

we'd all sit in bed
together, squished
into sharing a cozy
comfort, sandwiched
between you two
and my old buddy
gladly the bear who
still sits on your bed
upstairs in his pink-
and-green striped
shirt.

but then i guess
somewhere along
the way i grew up;
the move happened--
i didn't visit gladly
anymore, or you
for that matter.

today you asked
me to get the big
jar -- the carnation
                      (top)
jar, from the
shelf of the kitchen
   cabinet while i
    explained my
oddly convoluted
thought process,
and we talked
about how my
granddad danced
you down the aisle
to django on a whim
of a kooky family friend,
and how i finally
realized how little
i actually know of you--
but that's normal.

i might be growing
up now, and i
might not visit
that little bear
anymore, but
what i never
really told you,
or anyone,
is that i have
my own now,
a blue one who
used to be called
blueberry, renamed
as joseph stalin,
because i'm a
big boy now,
and my sense
of humor dried
out long ago.

i may not be
your little chef
anymore, but
i can still make
you breakfast,
and bring it
to your bed on
sundays, and
sit with gladly,
and quietly chat
until late morning
like we used to
(never) do.
 Dec 2012 Haley
bobby burns
my mother always
used to stress
the importance
of opening my
mirrored closet
doors at night,
so they wouldn't
reflect my night-
mares back at
                 me;
"it's too much
sadness for
sleeping."

but i never listened,
feng shui being
another silly
pastime or
science fit for
housewives --
how wrong i
was with the
stars, perhaps
i am again
mistaken.

maybe if i had
just kept those
**** doors
open annually,
these putrid
thoughts of
mine would
escape into
the ethers and
fade into non-
existence instead
of polluting my
mind and dying
themselves.

listen to your
mothers.
nothing good
can come of
doing otherwise.
 Dec 2012 Haley
Jeremy Duff
I don't wish for you, it would not be fair.
I don't wish for us to fall in love, you might not want that.
I don't wish for my own happiness, that would be vain.

I wish that I could write beautiful poems for you.
I wish that you would cry after reading them.
I wish that you would keep them folded up in your back pocket.

I don't wish that you will be happy forever, where would that leave me.
I don't wish for all the money in the world, I could not buy talent.
I don't wish for a cure for cancer, there would still be death.

I wish that I could make you happy when it's raining.
I wish that money would cease to exist solving a pretty amount of problems.
I wish for a cure for life.
 Dec 2012 Haley
Jeremy Duff
Sick
 Dec 2012 Haley
Jeremy Duff
/
Sick of people.
Sick of these self diagnosed depressed teenagers.
Sick of these self proclaimed hipsters.
Sick of these self prescribed med ******.
Sick of life.
/
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