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Q Jan 2016
The ennui leads me to shirk humanity
I'd like to see the world burn, entertain me
Who can I manipulate, pull the strings of puppetry
Count these dots on the ceiling for another eternity.

The ennui's whisper is a striking sledgehammer
"Nothing's wrong and nothing's right," to my saccharine master
A distraction is a religion, a light, a pastor
Find a building, burn it down, if only for laughter.

The ennui's madness, says it can't exist with life
Push me up onto this cliff, close my hand around a knife
Scream fury, bitter anger, over the sound of this strife
And when the rage is exhausted, with ennui I am rife.

The ennui leads me to think of impossible things
I could have an ultimate power that exceeds all living beings
The ennui leads me to write, and sing, and sleep, and think
And not a one of those will shake it, it resides so deep in me.

The ennui is disenchantment, apathy, and callousness.
The ennui is because I could's, both boiled and steeped in it.
The ennui is I don't care to a level never before seen.
The ennui is why bother with this without the will to leave.
Q Jan 2016
biting my tongue on words it's too early for
grasping at air like you're there to be touched
craving your voice from sunup to sundown
praying, begging, these hopes wont be crushed

its your magnetism
its what pulls me to you
its the way you inspire me
its the things i want to say and do

i think about you constantly
with you im at my happiest
i want to hear you all the time
as im nursing this single wish

its your magnetism
its your voice your words
its your smile that i adore
its your laughter as my reward

theres a plane with my name on it
thats what im hoping for
theres fifteen thousand miles
and im done with each one, no more

i feel like a child again
the world is my oyster
space is the limit on my dreams
and you're a star cluster
the fifth of the five set for new years
Q Jan 2016
I once said I'd die before I let it happen again.
I'm different now, I'm better than that.
I once said I'd die before I let it happen again
I'm a survivor, **** that, I'll fight back.

Don't touch me.
Don't talk to me, don't touch me
I hate you, I can't stand you
Stay the **** away from me.

I'd ******* **** to never be unsafe again.
I'd rip a man limb from limb.

I have a bag packed, I could run at any moment
I have a weapon, a motive, a reason
I have the unadulterated power of pure terror
I do and will mean as I've said, "Never. Again."
the fourth of the five set i completely forgot to upload yesterday
Q Jan 2016
Empty homes lined up like clones
On the main road of a Levittown.
Copy-pasted lives and identical drives
Like one town-wide pass me down.

The sun is blazing, children playing;
There's no heat on the asphalt.
The clouds don't move though the people do
But it still seems like time stopped.

The world forgot the town, the city's down
Some two hundred miles to the northeast.
There are no schools, no jobs or rules;
Torn straight from a storybook sheet.

Love and hate together cooperate
Or better yet don't even exist here.
There are no guns, no wealth or slums
And they've never known the concept of fear.

This town is a utopia, a could have, a would of
This town is a maybe, if we'd only tried.
It's pseudo-reality, optimistic ideality
All woven together and kept fresh with lies.
the third of a five set for the new years
the next two will be uploaded tomorrow
Q Jan 2016
I'll sing my own funeral song
And attend my wake alone
I'll write and read my eulogy
And drive my hearse home.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Send my own soul to rest
I'll pray over my casket
And mourn my life and death.

I'll sing my own funeral song
Place a single flower on my grave
I'll out myself into the ground
And cover my stilled face.
just a tidbit that popped into mind after an interesting dream. the second of a five set for the new year.
Note: Thanks to V for his suggestions and always catching the little things I miss.
Check V's poetry out here: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/144637/boxes-and-shells/
Q Jan 2016
If we as humans could indeed fly
If we could take to the heavens and kiss the sky
If we could truly reach up with wings to guide us
It would feel much the same as falling in love.

These wings of mine are tipped with joy
The feathers woven from thoughts sweet and coy
The bones are hollow and made of steel
And the power of flight received in what I feel.

If we as humans could indeed soar
If we could shoot for the sky and past it for more
If we could fly our way straight to the sun
I reckon it'd feel much like finding the one.
The first of a five set for the new year
Q Dec 2015
The first sign might be that sound
A mixture of a heartbeat and rushing air.
Or perhaps it's the overwhelming hue
And saturation of color that's hard to bear.

It could be the smell of sunshine and petrichor
That settles into the nose covertly.
Or perhaps it's the swirl of flavor on the tongue
A vertigo of tastes so savory-sweet.

It may be the tingles that shiver from head-to-toe
And send jitters straight  to the gut.
Or perhaps it's that feeling, terrifying and real
When you know that you're falling in love.
i wanted to make this longer
but i feel like ive said what i needed to
so
merry (day nine of) christmas  sweetheart
we're on the home stretch now
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