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 Oct 2014 Adam Jones
C Davis
I won't be the weak one,
Although when I think and speak
I may tweak some I'm just
Searching for reasons
To justify the swell.
I will ride the undertow
Sunken beneath bass lines 
And blunt tails
Intending to take it slow.
But I get a little excited sometimes, you know.
So when this undertow undoubtedly 
Washes me ashore
I'll be the imaginary statue 
Erected in my honor
Proudly saluting every fleeting
Emotion that sailed
Straight through my harbor.
You see, 
Harboring hatred is a trait
I forfeited
To make way for the minuscule moments and glimpses
Of human existence penetrating
Layers of jade and years
Of conditioning and I am successfully
Transitioning into persistently 
Acknowledging the raindrops 
As they hit the pavement and pop.
You see some people feel the rain
While others just get wet,
A wise Rastafarian 
Once famously said.
And I think on it all
Far too frequently for a quiet mind
But I've never had one of those
Not even after rolling papers
Intertwine and smoke fills my eyes,
Because I am accustomed 
To a constant consciousness
And I'd much rather this
Than nothingness
And thus I sit, contemplating 
Consequence 
Aspiring to avoid the guilt of 
Seasons past,
For I am past the point of
Punishment and pain ghosts and
I have plenty of pangs from all
The echoes
In my brain and in these
Rattled apartment's stains
It's not all in vain 
Life grows these varicose
Veins
Colored-in, crawling across the
Window panes 
Of the chamber where my soul remained
Through the bridge until the end of
The refrain.
I am in reign. 
I rock the crown.
I roll the dice when 
I am down
I try to think twice
Before I frown
I contemplate the value 
Of the men that I allow
To lay me down 
Now,
I am grown and I am proud
Because I am humble
And I'm not loud
Any longer,
I listen
To the subtle sounds of
Human respiration.
I am the incarnation
Of ancient incantations that
Shake down the walls which
Separate us all
All the way to the ground.
True power is found
Where unity resounds.
word ***** est. June 2014

property of c.f.davis
1 cut 2 cuts 3 cuts...4
What's 10 other, since I'm a little *****
5 cuts, 6 cuts, 7 cuts...8
My only friend is a ruthless blade
9 cuts, 10 cuts, 11 cuts...12
I'm stuck in this depression where I dwell
Let's keep going?.... What the hell
Let's just skip to 75,76,77,78
Were all dying anyways.
So I might might as well get it over with
I guess I'll just start at the wrists
Next the legs , then the neck  
Get a rope and jump off the deck
Pop some pills and go to sleep
Since I haven't been able to in weeks
I hope in the morning my mom won't cry
Over my lovely suicide.
Dark and hollow, shadowed with fear
Words and visions won't seize to appear
Eyes that don't sparkle, are now filled with tears
My heart of sorrow, with pain, so severe
No matter who tries, it will not heal

Inside I die, with daggers and knives
Leaving me cold, in the darkest of nights
Depression and woe what a terrible sight
Is this what you wanted, your sweet delight?
Will you have sweet dreams while you slumber tonight?
Now you're gone with no goodbye
My hopes should have never been so high
Thinking you might actually change my life
Stop the tear flowing from my eyes
Maybe you'll be happy with my sweet demise

No more hide and go seek with my love
Because ready or not here I come
From all your abuse I will rise above
Being peaceful and free a beautiful dove
No matter what, I will not be able to get rid of
Is this what you desire, an immortal dove?
In my dreams
I wait for happiness to approach
For someone to save me from this dismal corner of my mind
Where the sun is cold and the years scorch my face
The scarce amount of peace in my bones
Leaks through my skin
Leaving me as nothing
No matter how far I stumble
I can't seem to fall away
From his clammy grasp
A war that I will never win
The trees grow taller as much as my timid personality
Towers over my dead-and-gone self confidence
Someone please save me from this inundating despair
Even in my nomadic mind
I still revolve around a deep melancholy
Not even all the therapists in the world could catch me
My dream is a reflection
      Of the storm in my eyes
I wish I didn't feel
I wish I didn't think
My intelligence is a curse
My heart begins to sink

I wish I couldn't love
I wish my heart was cold
My words are locked up
A story that's untold

I wish I didnt care
I wish I didn't scream
My nights are filled with terror
A misery filling my dreams

I still love
I Still feel
I still think but I wish it was real

I still care
I still scream
My heart is still warm
I so badly want to be unseen
My tears only wash away
So much to hide the pain

I keep it in so you don't see
The storm that's inside of me
 Oct 2014 Adam Jones
aphrodite
I think I lost my ability to write sober and it scares me shitless
Everything I've ever wrote that's worth something has been a product of drugs
Everything that has ever rhymed
and flowed
and ebbed like the sea has been a result of alcohol
I am a cliché
All of my thoughts are the same recycled ones of the media and social influence that are only brought to surface with chemicals in my bloodstream
All of my romanticism and pain and obsessive verses are mediocre when I am not high
I am not as creative as I claim
I am a fraud
I am a fraud.
Something I wrote a while ago.
**
 Oct 2014 Adam Jones
Pride Ed
"Listen for the stream
that tells you one thing."
— Rumi.


How long can the perched Nightingale sing with a slit throat?
An iron taste in each bitter note; hard to swallow, —
Harder to quote!

And it rose because you entertained those thoughts too.

The honeydew rots beside that spill;
Need not these feathers remember the thrill?
Bitter with each taste, the beginnings! This deafening shrill
In false embrace, touching rapture's fiery red with a burning haste!

And it rose because solitude remembers everything I wrote.

The white faded under the scarlet smear of inky Sanskrit; I write about
You as if I'm a Dervish writing about their love walking along the sky; the brink
Of sunrise,— sunset!
And I'm never too far behind without wine.
Its the same I write of you every time!

And it rose because I can't touch a god the same as I can't touch you.

Upon seeing you with your own sweet Halvah,
I no longer prayed for Qais and Laila,
For they shared love, but never touched. Just like the Sufi poet and Allah,
Where one can only see, and one can only dream,
While floating along the stream.

And now I know I'm the fool for letting the feathers touch the wine,
Because it rose; those feathers rose too with time.

Because it rose, —
And rose,
And rose.
 Oct 2014 Adam Jones
Skylar
Yesterday I really wanted to die
Now I understand why so many get high
They get to forget-
I still haven't found a way to do so yet
I have found a way to not let my tears escape
By taking a blade to my skin,
It allows me to keep my mind off emotional pain
And focus on my physical pain

Depression is like a disease
but we hide it oh so cleverly that no one sees

I tried to tell my father
But it ended up being the day I lost all respect for him
He told me it was a phase
He said I'm overreacting
But I never told him that I tried to take my own life-
Sometime's I wonder if it would even matter if I had been successful
personal,
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