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Jody Carroll Mar 2014
Bitter,
Sweet like salt,
spitter,
and it drains the fault.

Decayed,
coiled glasses of fluid,
blade,
the poison in my throat, diluted.
Jody Carroll Mar 2014
Have you ever just thought of dreaming?
Of your hopes?
The aspirations that rattle through your head?

Have you ever wondered how you go where you are?
How you managed to get this far?
I'm loosing the thoughts I hold, are you?

Because I've been thinking, Have these thoughts stolen from the limit?
Are we limited on thoughts?
Are we timed for what we have thunk?

By now, you might have wasted your thoughts on this.
A humble child, questioning the world.
You may have wondered if 'thunk' is a word.
Did you?
Or was you scanning, Not absorbing?

That's what writing is for, to escape.
Whether you write or read, it makes you think.
But will it drain your dreams?
Jody Carroll Mar 2014
I know it's seemed wrong,
it seems wrong to feel something so right,
something deep within, and strong.
The strength this feeling bares,
as bare as skin, once touched.
Igniting the hairs beneath, making it feel right.
Yet the touch is wrong,
in the wrong place,
I want you to touch my heart, the way I want you to.
All you have to do,
is say the blushing pilgrims words,
the words of us.
'I love you'.
Jody Carroll Mar 2014
I dream of falling, such dreams that lurk,
they creep into your slumber, an invader,
with twisted smiles, smirks like daggers,
that draw blood on the innocent.

I always fall, from myself,
always dropping myself from my skin.
Feet ache; limbs weak.
I know I will face it again.

If I can stand to glare into its face,
the optics of nightmares, Satan's stare-off.

The simpleton sleeps, in its bother-less sleep, and falls again.
it falls with no-one, I fall with no-one.
I fall in the square box, watching the weeping,
I fall into the arms; of unknown simplicity,
types of simplicity never fall.

Never falling,
always peace,
That's what will happen when I fall next,
Always peace, Always.
This is my First poem

— The End —