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In the town where I grew up
You still can hear the chime
Of the old courthouse clock
As it counts away the time

Uncountable are the days
That too this place have come and gone
Causing so much here to change
In this town that I call home

The passing of the time
Has taken loved ones dear
And nothing is the same
Without their presence here

Time changes everything
It doesn't slow nor stop
So continues the counting chime
Of the old courthouse clock

RLB
 Aug 2016 Mrs Mortician
Lexie
oh
it's a dark night
I can hear your heart scream

oh
it's the moon, full
shining on your paper thin soul

oh
its the stars now
whispering to the trees

and
oh
how
the candles
they ca-all
to me

oh
won't you listen
to the scheme in my throat

oh
won't you wonder
how we will ever survive

oh
won't we die ?
in the dark of the deepest night

so
listen
with your eyes
shut
tight
wondering
if
this
is right.

oh
can't you hear me
my hearting beating like feet on the floor

oh
can't you remember
what these lies are good for

oh
can't you taste it
like blood on your tongue

bitter
and sweet
for all
to
eat

lay
me
down
in
your
mind

I will listen
to your confession
but
can you not
hear
that
every-one
here
is already
out
of their
mind
our
of
their
head
every
soul
is already
dead

from the fear
in their eyes
they
could not
did
not
even
try, to
disguise
1)  get a canvas

2)  get some unicorn paint

3)  paint a unicorn

4)  realize you can't paint a unicorn

5)  cry

6)  paint the moon

7)  put glitter and a horn on the moon

8)  pretend it's a fat unicorn

9)  be happy

10) show your dog

11) call the dog back into the room

12) show your dog again

13) get a new dog

14) show that dog

15) tell that dog it's being too critical

16) ask that dog to leave

17) put the picture in the bin

18) decide never to paint unicorns again

19) eat chocolate

20) decide to paint a dragon
 Aug 2016 Mrs Mortician
NARMONSEA
Restlessness:
Wandering through
The graves of memories.
Remnants of her soul
Cloud my mind.
My apparitions haunt me
With twisted dreams and
False hopes.

What if there was another?
What if there was some other?
What if there was none other?

Come back to me my dear child,
Do not get lost again!
I'm awake, I'm alive, yet
I'm incomplete again.

Cry all you want little child.
No one will guide you here.
No one will save your poor soul
Or heal you of the scars you bear.

Now rest. Sleep.
For tomorrow is another chance,
Another day to walk in light,
'Til you bathe in darkness again at night.

Cry, cry, cry again:
Until the heavens feel the tears.
Let the angels sail your thoughts,
Your world, your burden, your deepest fears.

You will know true peace at last.
I couldn't sleep. I hope I just start dreaming happy things after this
The sea is red, my soul is dark and buried. I hate everything, life, death, love, happiness. What is in it for me but disappointment and despair. I don't want pity, or loathing, or charity. I don't want you, I don't love you. I can't love you
If you can't love someone say so don't string them along for the ride, it never ends well for neither one of you
Why do my eyes not wish to rest?
At this fading hour,
This dying hour,
Why am I not longing for bed?
Now the hour is almost dead,
And yet still, my eyes protest,
Against abandoning their posts,
Though they have their orders,
They maintain their stubborn watch,
And the hour is slipping away,
Gently, but quickly,
The hour will not stay,
But my eyes will,
They will stay open as long as they can,
As long as willpower is stronger than
The power weakness holds over them.
Why won't you rest?
The hour is but a shadow now,
And now...
No trace,
But my eyes watch,
As the new hour begins.
I used to look at people that shake
I would tell myself I will never be like that
I didn’t know the trauma in store for me
at that time I thought I was more powerful
than trauma
I thought the police were genuinely going to protect my innocence
I did not know that they were watching
waiting for vulnerability
I thought I could be like my best friend
whose was white and his uncle was a police officer
I thought I had privilege too
well that was violently untrue
language is too violent
language needs to become vulnerable again
then we can listen
communicate gently
in order to understand race politics
one must be a domestic violence specialist
http://www.amazon.com/Escape-Liberty-Elan-Gregory-ebook/dp/B01B8XQYBG?ie=UTF8&keywords;=elan%20gregory&qid;=1459178234&ref;_=sr_1_1&sr;=8-1
 Aug 2016 Mrs Mortician
SG Holter
My mind travels towards that
Vein on her neck my
Mouth once found

The way your tongue inevetably
Returns to the sharp edges of a
Chipped tooth

Despite your efforts
To keep it from cutting itself on
Something sharp, yours and

Broken.
Ripped out of the night,
pulsating cruelly,
passion spawned

Reaching out, all is changed,
the crow darkly wanders
stars fizzle away into transmutating haze
and dread comes
walking like a bony corpse.
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