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 Feb 2015 James
furies
Hate
 Feb 2015 James
furies
I hate myself
and my blandness.
I hate my hair
and my sadness.
I hate my nose
and my bruteness.
I hate my feet
and my bitterness.
I hate my legs
and my desperateness.
I hate my wrists
and my selfconsciousness.

Perfection
Beauty
Happy
Brilliance
Selfless
Excitement

Nothing.
 Feb 2015 James
hallucinations
with no direction or purpose,
we find ourselves
wallowing in pools of
self-pity.
we find ourselves longing
for those who whisper spurious words of affection.
after all it has always been better to have someone to hold
on those cold nights
than
being alone.
2015|(c) hallucinations
 Feb 2015 James
H.P. Lovecraft
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,
When the sky was a vaporous flame;
I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o'er seas without ending,
Under sinister grey-clouded skies,
That the many-forked lightning is rending,
That resound with hysterical cries;
With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.

I have plunged like a deer through the arches
Of the hoary primoridal grove,
Where the oaks feel the presence that marches,
And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,
And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers through dead branches above.

I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains
That rise barren and bleak from the plain,
I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains
That ooze down to the marsh and the main;
And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things, I care not to gaze on again.

I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,
I have trod its untenanted hall,
Where the moon rising up from the valleys
Shows the tapestried things on the wall;
Strange figures discordantly woven, that I cannot endure to recall.

I have peered from the casements in wonder
At the mouldering meadows around,
At the many-roofed village laid under
The curse of a grave-girdled ground;
And from rows of white urn-carven marble, I listen intently for sound.

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,
I have flown on the pinions of fear,
Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;
Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:
And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.

I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
I was old in those epochs uncounted
When I, and I only, was vile;
And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,
And great is the reach of its doom;
Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,
Nor can respite be found in the tomb:
Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.
 Feb 2015 James
BertJane Perez
I saw you flipping through the pages of a book
And I thought to myself I'd do anything to be that book
You were interested in it
You took the time to read every line
To understand each and every word
The way your eyes stared in passion, curiosity, excitement...
The way you smiled at the new information
Everything I've always wanted you to do to me
To actually want to know me...
To actually want to understand who I am...
To smile because you learned something new about me...
To flip through my pages and learn about my life...
Who knew I'd be jealous of a book?
Because there aren't any words any more, not for you and not from me
Because I don't feel a thing any more, and it's no-one's fault you see
But actually I tell a lie, because these words will never end
But what's changing now, is the person to whom I'll send,
each long winded poem and handwritten note
each perfect kiss and each misused quote.
Just a glimpse, from afar
of a perfect shinning star
and now my heart, it starts to sing
these poems in my ears they ring.
Of love, of life, of hate, of war
passion, triumph and so much more,
and to think I thought these words were gone,
thankfully I'll keep going on
till I draw my final breath
writing poems unto my death.
Her lids reconciled
Trying to taste the sweet tone of the wind
As it sang again for her
Running up across the dry meadows
She can smell the grass on her feet
The lake looks as though a blanket
Endlessly rolling tiny waves
"Where to?" Her heart wanted to ask
To the swinging ropes
She sat on the sturdy tire
She is colorless under the purple skies
She lost her balance like she did intend
Almost lying upside down
She felt the rush of blood go through her head
And found the trenches of goodbyes
Long kept in the clouds of twilight
Suddenly, tears in her eyes
Did you ever miss me?
Maybe a little
But not as much
Not like a firefly who lost her light
Maybe not a all


-Untitled, Margaret Austin Go
 Feb 2015 James
KT
Shadow
 Feb 2015 James
KT
I turn back only to see
that my shadow is eating me.
It’s not the same you see,
my dreams and reality.
All the time I wish you here,
but what would I do if you really were here?
I wake up to the mirror only to see,
shards of my broken reality.
I see my reflection,
reflection of my shadow eating me.
I can’t stop my crave for you.
What can I do?
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