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I've realized that I rely on "things"
such as pills,
to get me through the daze.
Weather it's the clouds in my lungs,
or the syrup that I swallow,
or even latest Salvatore novel,
I've just gotta have that "thing" to distract me from here.
Because I find this reality too much to bear.
Living vice-to-vice, couting down the years.
I just want everyone to be happy.

Self therapy.
**** rips in my kitchen.
Talking to oneself can be so productive.
Pacing back and forth with constant muttering.
I just want everyone to be happy.
Super weird how this ended up. mostly free-written. 100% different.
 Sep 2015 Liz And Lilacs
tyjhtysj
is it possible life can be a dream
is it possible life can be a nightmare
is it possible to really change
is it possible to see the change
is it possible to be deaf & can hear
is it possible to be blind & can see
is it possible to die and keep leaving
is it possible to love forever
is it possible to end your grief by tears
is it possible life can get better as some point
it is possible to really  forgive and forget
is it possible to impossible or impossible is possible.
There's annoyance
on your shoulders
running through
your veins.

There's chaos
in her jaw
screaming
at her forehead.

And there's sadness
in my mouth
but my tongue
cannot speak.
Hell will be a waiting room
You’re sitting in an uncomfortable chair
With dingy magazines five months old
The couples on the covers have split
Someone has already torn out the coupons, filled in the quizzes and crosswords
Twelve letters across another word for your damnation?
The answer scrawled out in red ink
Anticipation
Waiting for the news that is never going to come
Waiting
That anticipation is worse than the diagnoses
You could have five months to live this afterlife
Five weeks
Five hours
You could drop undead in the middle of that waiting room
Where no one would do a ******* thing
Because God doesn’t dwell down here
Here the devil is king
And then it begins again
A different waiting room
The same dingy magazines
Except this one smells like a dentist’s office
You’ll just sit
Wait
The walls read
If you have been waiting more than fifteen minutes please notify the receptionist
Alert staff if you are experiencing flu-like symptoms
HAIL SATAN
Thank you for not smoking
No smoking
No talking
No texting tweeting or reading
Waiting
Just Waiting
In this ***** dusty hell of a room
Please take a seat
A nurse will call you to the back shortly
I would really appreciate any feedback on this poem. It's for a class I'm in.
I was barren
A deserted landscape
Full of papercuts from my house of cards
And a tree with no more leaves
I would watch the earth crack
And pick at the places where the ground split
Until I was isolated
I couldn't move
All I could do was think
A task best done when morale is not so low
I was addicted to feeling pain
Pain that I could measure and prescribe myself
I self medicated with insults and inhalants
Mockery and mutalation
Addicted to my meds is what I became
So addicted to sadness
I never wanted it to leave

But here I am
Clean and cultivating
The fruit that
My new land has produced
And now I feel good
Mind and heart content
I can finally love you
Long title, haven't done one of those in a while.
This is just another poem about some stuffs.

Have a great day everyone :)
Do not ask why you are here,
Treading the waters of a
Planet leaving tears on the
Straight razor held
Firmly to her throat by her
Children.

You are here to dance your life
Out from birth to dust
On the floor between Satan and
Seraph, between kind and
Selfish. Between
Poet and predator.

Know that a light heart, love
For yourself and others; a
Whispered gratitude for the
Smallest of things, is the tallest
Tree in Paradise.
Anger is an axe.

And fear. Fear is a chainsaw.
See the flower; ignore the
Thorns.
Look past the hurtful comment;
More often than not, it was a tickle,
Not a slap.

Be the finger that begins the easing
Of the grip around the razor's
Handle. Form an open hand upon
The face of our blue mother.
Kiss her. Kiss her every sweet
Tear of relief.
With you,
I feel like my brokeness wears a disguised mask,
it doesn’t protrude out like splinters and spears
right through my rib cage where
thorn ladden tendrils grow, with everyone else.

With you,
I feel less broken.
Maybe even whole again.
Like I used to be.
 Aug 2015 Liz And Lilacs
mk
like constellations in the night sky,
the freckles on your cheeks
will guide me *home
// lights will guide you home & ignite your bones, i will try to fix you //
I thought 'perhaps she's someone I'd like to know'
and my god, I nearly let my secrets show.
I nearly told her how my nights full
of analogies of the ocean's pull,
and how her eyes shine perfectly bright,
and she looked so good under the party light,
but I retain my posture, and don't let her in,
because last time I shared a poem, I certainly did not win.
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