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  Jan 2019 angie
ogdiddynash
(thanx all for the great suggestions)

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women who wink

drive men to drink

together, glasses clink

tattoos follow in ink

and that ain’t the only thing

~

the tiller tied & forgot,

the slip knot jinxed

the sailboat nearly sinks

~

he cries aloud “you minx!”

I’m all done in,

you’ve got me sminked,^

you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink

~

she smirked and laughed that slinky mink,

“clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx,

count to cinq, don’t overthink,

join me overboard into the ****,

I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink

where drowning possibilities are next to nothink

promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
^Smink/To smink/Sminking/Sminked...pretty much any context you want.

When you smoke (strictly ****) and drink (alcoholic beverage of you choice) at the same time. Together these two factors get you wicked f’d up and create a great sminked out atmosphere.
angie Jan 2019
The solace of sting salt lets me wash away my burns but some still smolder inside
They fester inside never allowing me to cry and relieve them of their duty
but they never let me die
I will wither if the flames of past regret were to diminish
I would fall onto the dust of my undoing
angie Jan 2019
The cooling stings give me solace
the tears pat me dry
allowing me to let my flames diminish
the relief of letting go pains me
each forgiveness bleeds into my very skin
and leaves only black ink that which only darken my soul
I hide my markings
hoping no one sees my charcoal tattoos
But I know they see they ash
I choke on the wisp of the ink
my teeth are charred with forgiveness
Why can't I let go?
I try but I fall back into place
I've woken up from falling for eternity but the ink still remains
"I've been too sweet."
I rise taking off my hood and put on a glass mask
"now those f@%*#@& will pay"
I was a slave to myself allowing others
to manipulate my sins and pull my strings
Well this sheep has rotted out of her bleeding wool
angie Jan 2019
Art
It is with this oak that I burn my soul into
It is with every etch that I burn my desires
scorching in my undeniable passion
with the smokey rings that consume the air around me
the smell of the smoldering wood brings me peace as I create
I'm high with a fervor for my work
I'm obsessed, Mindlessly pressing and burning
My mind watches each flare, Flash, Flicking light
that dances with the smoke
each red ember ignites my lust for completion
But what happens when I am finally whole?
I love to create wood burn art.
  Jan 2019 angie
Lucas
Polaroid sunshine;
I'm a pyramid scheme
people want to watch
drop dead
in a bowl of soup.
angie Jan 2019
Discombobulation
   Snuffing out my insight
   Stings of uncertainty clouding my mind
   The acidic taste of bitter gasoline rest on my tongue  
The scent of brewed turmoil, The sound of whats? And questions ringing in the smoky air
Please help me out with this one.
angie Jan 2019
The conscious wrath of calamity
Murdering the astute thoughts
Obscuring my reality

The sequestered turmoil calls the shots
My moment of peace disturbed by this dilemma
Functioning without the key to break the lock

Searching for it through all of the drama
Exploring into the depth of my psychosis
Battling the inner chimera

Finding the key slipping under hypnosis
Constructing the key
Repeating my blunders resistant to sclerosis

Once again I’ve obscured key, unapologetically
Confounded by a new element, Obsessed with this controversy
I must find a key to cure this epidemy
It has lots of big words I'm sorry.
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