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Lou Feb 2018
Hi, there someone I wanted to say hi to for sometime now but yet i never have much more to say after that.

Except you're beautiful and I wanna touch your hair.
I can't do that.
I'm not a random drunk woman complimenting another at a show waiting in line to use the bathroom.
They get away with touching and borderline ****** schoolgirl flirtation.  

That's OK.

But I am not.
I am sober.
I am a grown man.
We are in an office which just so happens to be a place where we
work.
I'm pretty certain H/R wouldn't understand the innocents of my crush.
Nor would you.
Nor would the restraining order.

I wish I had something more to say.
So I'll just not.
A silly short about not having courage and better words.
Lou Dec 2017
uoy nehW
nwo ruoy ni gnihcraes flesruoy dnif
,ssalg gnikool
.flesruoy ees yllaer t'nod uoy
flesruoy ni tbuod evah reveN
Lou Dec 2017
Passenger on leave.
        Take to whatever may stead.

Your foot steps  
         Time lining distance in hair and laundry.

From galleries
     or hallways,
Or with neon silhouettes.

You're on your way
    And I can't complain.
Letting go.
Lou Dec 2017
It's hard to know what my reflection is in this window I hold everywhere I go.

Always looking out and never in.
The whole world on speed dial and still have no one to talk to.

This is not a window to the world.
It's a door that locks my curiosity and envy inside.
On the outside my motivation and time.

The key is to log out.
Goodbye facebook
Lou Dec 2017
Green to grey and foam
Olympic heights and beyond
Free falling snow globe
haiku for where my heart may lay.
Lou Dec 2017
I sought satisfaction in stupid sheepishly and shallow strides.
Scared subconsciously, I swallow and sustain substance for pseudo self esteem strengthening.
I seemed of in service to slumber and stinging sadness, shots sank like ships, submerging into the sea of my swarthy stomach in seconds.
I somewhat sympathies as a sailor, sweating, struggling and swimming in slipping sobriety saturated in my sulking style.
Scanning swarms of serial swindlers, striking sculptures stances of self-doubt.
I stammer in a storm of slurs, ******* down my safety, stopping myself at the stoop of the saloon I see a seductive silhouette staging the space.
She stroke my sight, standing sanguine in scarlet, soul sold in high heels.
The smoothest sculptures in seven square miles were subjugated into scree and I was ****** in submission.
Stubborn staggering suitors, stand shaking silently as she is stopped by sharks stalking and snarling sycophantics.
So straightforward in suggesting their secret starvation to strip sensations, seem by seem, like a sub-par **** cinema scene.
They step and speak short.
She smokes off, stranding the scree in smoldering slaughter.
Its sad this soul-less sanctuary soaking up sorrows.
So self inflicting, and so satisfyingly side splitting.
She sported her spurned, scorned off into sadistic solitude and stained sticky stigma, sobbing to sleep.
So spent from simple stocked, stored and supported senescence of ceremonial subjection of ****** status.
I savior my sincerity, and stretched out of this strange stadium of stooges.
So long scarlet sanguine I sang softly, as she stole my sight suspiciously in sync with hers.
Sacrificial seconds split from smearing stolidity to sharing a smile.
That's simple satisfaction, so I seen scripted in sitcoms and shows.
Supporting sapiens in stasis to see sappy stunners on screen, to stare snoopy, as stabs and slashes strike socially into socialites of so called sanity and sovereignty.
To sweetly pay salvage as slaves of soppy studio slander.
Such is this sorry Saturday night, I am solidified in sedation.
I wrote this over a year ago, took me a few months to put it together properly but I wanted to share this fun time. Its about this bar I use to go to when I was in my early 20's and I use to watch people a lot act like savages, trying to pick up women, usual bar stuff. I hope this isn't too much of a mouthful, enjoy.
Lou Dec 2017
I been born to lack.
Self inflicting heart attack.
I been born to mourn my death.

I'm a plague dressed in disguise
A brooder of everything in sight.
I been born to mourn my death.

Don't bother to please.
You'll find I need no sympathy
I'm a swamp that takes body heat.

When you're in my morass trap,
You'll find anxiety tracks.
It's a disheartening,
Meglo-mockery.
Oh, Mephisto please.
Why do I do this to you my marsh queen?

Oh, I don't take, I steal.
Hearts, time and self esteem are a good meal.
Don't have any aches for me
I was born to mourn my death.

I must seem like a mystery
With dirt prints I leave behind every scene.
Taking you deep into a quagmire of negativity.

I been born to lack.
It's not my fault you got trapped.
But you were warned before,
I was born to mourn my death.
I feel like when I get close to people, we get trapped. It feels like its a doomed from the start. I feel bad I am like this.
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