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 Feb 2013 Michael W Noland
flynt
My heart is a graveyard.
Full of all my past imaginary lovers.
Full of memories, and scars.
Full with all the drugs, and dead fallen stars.
All of the dead kitties and birds lying on the streets.
They all rest inside of me.
This graveyard inside my heart is full of all the
sounds that made me feel my emotions burn.
Full of all the fools who have hurt me.
It's full of rage, chaos, and hate that I had boarded
under my skin since I was just a child.

Once you've entered my heart consider yourself dead.
"Sounds that made me feel my emotions burn." - Sounds meaning music that have inspired me, and that I hold so dearly to me.
 Feb 2013 Michael W Noland
flynt
I slap my skin to let the poison set in.
My hand is in yours as I drag you with me.
Tomorrow comes today.
I have never been so afraid.
I hear grim whistling up from the hill.
I feel as though it's too late.
killing myself to be with you on this plastic beach.
this is bad. from my mind to the computer. Gorillaz inspired, yo
 Feb 2013 Michael W Noland
flynt
I was the child with the coral painted brown on my head.
I was his fawn. I was his lost death.
I feel this buzzing in my bones.
I think I'm dumb.
I was just as bored as him.
I was his polly. I was his kin.
I think I'm dumb.
This one is for you. I'm so sorry it's not a good one either.
Rest in my peace.
She holds the dead body of her brother
Long after it's grown cold
Like I had once held a dead kitten
In a washcloth...
Anguishing over a loss
That I couldn't have helped.

I couldn't have helped this one, either.
No matter what we have
Who we know
Who we are
Death takes us just the same.
We all leave...
Cold
Pale
Blank
Empty.

I remember,
That for a while
The kitten was just limp in my hand...
When I laid him down for a bit
And came back to check once more
Just to be sure
That he was gone
He was stiff
Stale
Like he had never been alive at all.

I asked my sister to bury him.
I could never be sure he was really dead
Even though he had no breath
Was he still there
Somewhere?
What is death...
Anyway?
What is it
People say?

He's passed
He's gone
He's deceased
In heaven
In hell
He's left
(he's not here?
are you sure?)
I'm sorry for your loss
My condolences
He's at peace
He's at rest
He's watching over us....

Where is he
Really?
i never knew
you liked apple juice.

i think it tastes like

p
i
s
s
upon the witching hour,
the delirious stroke of noon...
i promptly
lost
my
mind.

i rambled up and down the library isles
trying to find
somewhere to hide.
all my precious yellow cubbies
were full of degenerates
texting on their phones
talking too loudly
for a library
unknowing of the fact
that if i didn't have my yellow cubby
i didn't have an anchor.

i guess i'm ok now
some odd, flightly demon
tried me on for a bit
made it hard to breathe
hard to think
hard to
be
but once i looked in the mirror
saw my freckles
my speckled eyes
my friendly nose
i knew
what i was once more.
it wasn't the one girl standing next to me, washing her chapped hands
talking to me about english class
that brought me back
it was me
all me.
i raised myself
from the dead
all i did

was lift my head.
today
all the little yellow cubbies are full,
and i cannot breathe.
i'm walking
quickly
knees bending
boots scuffing
head down
my throat is closing
constricting
choking.
i can't remember how my face looks
i'm afraid the panic inside me
is creeping out
everyone
is looking
at me.

some kid
is sitting in my cubby
playing a game on his phone
not caring that i
NEED that cubby
i am lost
without it.
i want to pick him up
throw him out
run
away.

i go down one isle of books
up another...
trying to look
like i belong
my chest is a black hole
******* in all the faces
shoes
clothes
hair
multiplying them
until i cannot breathe
i can't ever just be me
i have to be
what they want to see


help.
sip my lips,
drink me in
until nothing quite makes sense.
let my lungs fill your lungs
with an intoxicating fume.
smoke rings,
ripped jeans,
natty-bo's,
midnight shower endeavors,
the timidness of bare skin.

all the necessary ingredients
in concocting young love.
make me the subject of your songs
and we'll gaze at the stars
on those bright chilly nights.

a perfect pattern that fits together
like the quilt of life.
The bitter black coffee slides down my throat
I wince at the taste and the headache
as a result of last night

Oh but this is what I live for.
the excitement of forgetting

Of becoming someone else.
A carefree girl
who never passes up a dare,
who tips the bottle back
taking on the burn
without a swig of anything else to make
it go down easy.

Cause' the thing is,
I won't go down easy,
i can't.
I want rules so i can defy them

I want those crazy nights
filled with adrenaline
and legs sprawled on moonlit grass

Not the normal lull
of a life planned out,
sitting patiently on a grocery shelf
ready to be taken home for dinner
to feed the kids and the greetings of the
"honey, I'm home" 's
followed by an empty kiss.

No, not me.
First, I'll paint my body
blue and black
because i welcome the bruises.
I'll burn out long before
you can catch me with an
apron tied around my waist
and a platter full of fresh, hot cakes.
 Feb 2013 Michael W Noland
August
My agressor had my face
Ran my fingers
On my cheeks
But I was weak
My swollen eyes
Absorbed how
And I fled
I began running
I never stopped
I haven't stopped
I don't blame the world
And it doesn't blame me
I don't run from it
I run from what I've seen
Of myself
The one in the mirror
I guess I like running
The burning feeling
You get in your sides
Makes me feel alive
Even though I'm a lie
The one in the mirror
Knows & watches
And I know it's true
That I am in fact,
A lie
But the one,
In the mirror
Is the one that
Faces it
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