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 Dec 2015 Viola
ryn
Carpe Diem
 Dec 2015 Viola
ryn
Sure the fatigue would come...
Infiltrating the sanctity of our skin,
gripping our muscles
and chafes us within.
Right down to the bone.

No doubt the fear of future days
would eat at us raw.
It would gnaw at our minds...
Debilitating thoughts that would *******
no one else but our own.

Of course the seeds we've planted,
mightn't see past the layer of soil
in which they're embedded.
Seeds hidden in the ground for future reaping...
They mightn't flourish to meet the harvest
and greet the hand which would
welcome them full grown.

Most likely the days before us
only show of dark clouds...
That constantly scare us.

But today...
Has time and space for us to exist.
Today has a crisp sweetness wafting through the air.
Firm, unwavering ground beneath our feet.
So let's claim today because today is ours to keep.

Today we share the returns...
Of the sweat and the tears that in the past
we've sown.
 Dec 2015 Viola
Ocean Blue
Stars and calendars
Just whispered
That the last time
You and me met
Was exactly
6,000 days ago.
And
Guess what...
Despite all these years,
You make my heart
Beat so fast,
Whenever I dream of You,
That is ten times a day.
And when my eyes
Get locked to the sky
Over Paris
I see your smile
And your face
In every sunshine.
Tell me how you do it.
Do you use magic?
So I willingly
And slowly
Become your slave,
Prisoner of my
Life time quest
For You.
 Dec 2015 Viola
m i a
art--
 Dec 2015 Viola
m i a
When will these
   delicate bodies, fully understand
     that they are not morely the artists
         but more so the art?

*by: christopher poindexter
Agh, christopher is my favourite poet. You guys should check him out. <3
 Dec 2015 Viola
Mikayla
Midnight
 Dec 2015 Viola
Mikayla
I wanted to paint,
A trail of red,
Down your chest
leaving nothing but,
The stain of my lips,
To lay in contrast,
To your fair skin.
You brought forth,
A pallette in my eyes,
Birthed within a new,
Sight of purples,
Left behind,
By the lost ramblings,
I drown in after ***.
 Dec 2015 Viola
Thomas Alan
Approval
 Dec 2015 Viola
Thomas Alan
Your mother won't approve
because I've got bigger thoughts
and your father doesn't like me
because I'm not into sports
 Dec 2015 Viola
Cassidy Vautier
and nobody gets those people who don't give a **** about anyone or anything. those people who burn others down without a second thought. chinaski, the man in all of bukowski's poems. it is those people who cared the most because all we want to be loved, so badly that sometimes we sustain from love itself. we need to be loved so badly. so badly that the fear of not being loved is greater than the need to be loved. to care is a disease that corrodes your bones if you use it too much. sometimes i burn other people just so i dont have to feel the sting first, i confess, but thats who youre turning me into, but who gives a ****, one day ill change my name and write a book.
whatever. i used to be belligerent, but then all of my friends died. now im a fire build in the pervade of a never ending rainstorm. its my depression, but everyone calls me killer because i pass them cigarettes even though their boyfriends hate the smell.
i don't need you and you don't need me. you dont care about books, or poetry, or silence, or experience, or art. ive known that since the moment i met you, but i thought you wanted to know. ukulele girl and the basketball star. BUT thats just why youll never know me, youll never know my brain, youll never be able to think my thoughts.
IT IS SO ******* EASY TO LOVE ME
EVERYONE IS TOO LAZY TO LOVE ME
STEAL LIKE AN ARTIST, NICK, if you want to know someone you have to learn at least three of their muses for they make up most of the person you want to get to knowing. then if you really want to know them, better than they know themselves, learn three of their three muse's muses. thats why i gave you love is a dog from hell and grapes of wrath. bukowski loved hemingway.
thats why i go to all your stupid basketball games alone just to sit in the desolate student section because i want to take the time to understand the love of someone i love. people arent the same as me. they look at the world, and its too big to fit the whole picture in front of their faces, so they cant fathom it. but to me it seems easy. but thats just why love ever lasts.
no one wants to know their lovers three muses three muses. as if it is so hard to read a god ****** book. everyone is so greedy they want to gobble up the soul of the first thing they think is beautiful. they dont want to keep them like a cactus in their bedroom, they just snip them at the stem and put them on a shelf just to watch them as they rot.
because everyone thinks that to love is to own.
but when i read poetry i feel intoxicated. i will sit there and read a poem until its meaning is exhausted because, to me, it is so rich to experience a feeling so vividly. my heart quiets to a slow beat in my chest, just to hear the words quiet in my head. thats how love should always feel. it should be reading everyone of your lovers metaphorical books  just so you can know them better. because knowing them makes you feel whole.
but if you want to leave then why dont you just go
haphazard thoughts at actual 3:30 a.m.
 Dec 2015 Viola
Declan Quinn
After we talked, she walked.
I stood in silence until my pulse slowed.
I breathed again, could see again.
I made her do it, I wanted out.
Picking up the pieces is easier,
If you don’t get broken in the first place.
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