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A girl approached me today.
She felt sorry for me.
She said that she wanted to help me.
"Go home to your family, girl.
You don't need this in your life."
I said.
The broken
and the odd
seem to cross my paths more than most.
For each and every riposte
that I deliver past the ever advancing guard
of Fate,
there is a blow that slips through my vigil
and hits me square upon the heart.
Each of these damaged souls is a part of my
grand design.
I find happiness in giving them love
and acceptance they've never known.
I find their problems to me mine
and their tears shed from my own ducts.

I do no see myself as superior to these people.
I see myself as in the position to good,
because under the hood we are still human
and there is no denying someone that.
There will always be an exchange of hats
now and again,
when it is realized that there is
nothing wrong with this
is when anger turns to peace
and sadness to bliss.
 Sep 2014 Tuesday Pixie
AJ
Someone write a poem for me
Or about me.
Just stroke my ego or something.
I'm very tired and I need
Something more than coffee
And stale cigarettes
To get me through the rest of this week.
I once told you, Miss,
that your poetry is so edgy
that I cut myself on it sometimes.
Well, I've been reading more
and I feel
at a loss for blood.

A wise man once said,
that what starves us carves us
and I have never been anywhere near you,
but I imagine holding you in my arms
would be either the worst or the best experience of my life.

You've got some jagged bits,
but I bet if you put your best part forward,
you could split a man's heart apart
in the best of ways.
Make him think of you for days after,
caught in the rapture of the pain you bring.

If I could capture a joke out of thin air,
I'd find you and give it to you,
just hoping that maybe it might possibly
make you smile.
'Cause ****.
It must be a supernova waiting to happen.
Only the death of stars could live up to such an event.
No format and also, shiiiiitttt I'm tired.
She's calling me again
That heartless *****
She took my grandad
My dad
She has my family in her clutches
Are sweet claws
Her venomously tangy bite
Her sting
Her fire
Her ice
Her heat
Her coldness
Her beauty
Her horrors
And now that heartless ***** is calling to me
A 15 year old boy
 Aug 2014 Tuesday Pixie
AJ
I just feel really guilty.
I feel really sad.
I feel really pointless.
And when I used to get upset
I just wanted someone to hold me
And comfort me.

Now I don't want that.
I don't want to be tragic.
I don't want to be anything.

I finally feel again.
And everything is so temporary.

Do you know what my mother
Told me the other day while
I was at her house?
She thinks the apocalypse is coming.
My mother is logical and wise
And smart and has never once
Said anything of the sort.

And she was completely serious.

And I'm not saying I believe her.
Because I don't,
We all have our own beliefs,
And I really respect that.
Mine aren't solid, but mostly scientific.

But that is not the point.

The point is that nothing is solid.
Everything is changing and temporary.
But change isn't a constant.
Don't ever let anybody tell you that.
Somethings always change,
Somethings never will.

Everything is a great big mess.
I am a great big mess.
And this is my ramblings.
I think my cat is dying. For this reason alone, I'm feeling increasingly guilty about leaving home.
When I found the door
I found the vine leaves
speaking among themselves in abundant
whispers.
My presence made them
hush their green breath,
embarrassed, the way
humans stand up, buttoning their jackets,
acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if
the conversation had ended
just before you arrived.
I liked
the glimpse I had, though,
of their obscure
gestures. I liked the sound
of such private voices. Next time
I'll move like cautious sunlight, open
the door by fractions, eavesdrop
peacefully.
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