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Dog Years Jul 2018
So tired, she thought it best
to wear her heart on her sleeves
and get things off her chest

Ignored a notion misconceived
that living like an open book
would only make her more naive

She said if they simply take another look
they'll see a clear transparency
and maybe, just maybe, let me off the hook
Dog Years Jul 2018
She said
Boy, you couldn't land on water if you fell off a boat!

He responded...
The wind created by the flutter of your eyelashes makes men believe they can spread their masts and set sail in the desert. As I stepped back to observe your beauty, I fell overboard and landed on dry reality.

As a tear rolled down the side of her cheek, I knew this lucky sailor had landed on water.
Dog Years Jul 2018
Heaven is not for me
This world is all I wish to see
Golden streets and crystal oceans
Are not my cup of tea
To be quite honest
A cup of tea is my cup of tea
And though I'll do whatever God asks of me
I just pray that when I die he lets me be
To live forever is way too much
A lifetime here is good enough
I'm only six and twenty
And this world still has plenty
Of wonders for me to see
Hell...
Heaven is not for me
Dog Years Jul 2018
One piece after the other
I'll break myself apart
and fill your empty spaces
Dog Years Jul 2018
On an old windowsill of a crooked windowpane in a beaten house
Lies a window-moth on a ***** window cloth.
drained, defeated, and done
Time and again,
It tattered its wings and shattered its face,
plunged at the glass, losing its grace.
She's drawn to a dim light
spilled through a cracked window
into the darkness of the room.
Like a waking terror of the night,
With one half there and the other out of sight.
Hallucinating a pathway through fantasy
  Seeking clarity in rays of insanity
Contained by a glass and wooden frame.
painfully numb,
with an urge to move forward
A consuming obsession,
to make it to the Moon.
That lambent orb in the skies
A brilliant ball full of lies
Ignorant to the impenetrable mass,
or the number of miles between the moon and glass.
No matter how much it desires,
No matter how much it tires,
No matter how large the power of will,
The glass is unbreakable,
the goal unattainable,
The truth unbearable.
The Godforsaken feeling,
of seeing, and believing,
yet never achieving.
inspired by night terrors, where one is conscious in sleep and can do almost nothing to get away. Reminds me of a moth chasing a light, unaware of the glass window keeping it there
Dog Years Jun 2018
The tired old Tortoise
painfully creeps across a
desolate desert
Dog Years Jun 2018
As we spoke I could only think of honey
It was in the flow of her velvet hair
The brown nectar in her luscious eyes
It was in her voice
The taste of her sound
Never have I heard a tune so sweet
Soft red-berried tones
Humming through her sugar powdered lips
Pouring sunshine into my empty cup
An elixir fit for the gods
Blessing my mortal soul
My sweet Ambrosia
All that and much more
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