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A twisted thing held all my fears:
Midnight hours ask of my tears,
Creatures in corners see me stir
And wonder why I weep no more.

I wish the blue blood wouldn't pool
In the shaking hands deemed so cruel,
This chill burning my blackened bones
Is the same etching my tombstone.

I don't cry for the dark unknown
But for the creature that is shown:
The one that looks me in the eye
And lets the red love we had die.
An animal is what I am,
with fangs that bite too deep.
Awake at night, and too possessed
to get a wink of sleep.

Amused by chasing freedom
from feeling what is real.
I would go to any length,
I'd make a Devil's deal.

Corrupted and conflicted,
until I find my friend.
He's killing me, and ripping me
apart from every end.

Smoke is curling up inside.
Noise is somewhat dull.
Silent moving pictures streaming
softly in my skull.

I think the ground is quaking.
My eyes are dry as sand.
The carpet feels like metal scraping flesh
upon my hands.

Shaking within cavities
I thought did not exist.
My temperature from cold to hot,
I'm fiending for the bliss.

I wish the things I felt right now
would wound me to my grave.
But fantasies of you inside my veins
is what I crave.

I've sobered up and looked
upon my arms, who seem to yearn.
A distant scream inside my heart
tells me I'll never learn.

A bag, a spoon, a spark, a *****
and now I'm turning blue.
Blue death inside my bones and skin,
an animal for you.
Infinitesimal stars, the moon lies still.
Watching over me as I'd watch over you,
Alone in the vastness of infinity, in the dark and timeless universe
-- I know she feels my loneliness too.
Through eons of time, she has perfected the gaze, suspended in the eternal night, suspended in longing.
If only I could learn her ways -- she stays beautiful through echoing darkness, keeping watch over our self-destruct.
I relate to this pile of rock.
You were a sinking ship. You pulled me in with you.
Now I watch from the rocky shores I've been shipwrecked to.
 Oct 2014 Anna Pavoncello
M
it's a little ironic
that there is something wrong with my heart
that I, this hopeless poet, has a defect
in her favorite topic, her favorite metaphor-
and that this, this, the source of her life, should fail her.
Oh, how fair, they stand together
the milky black, offering
their ancient light
the maiden's eyes
a'winking.


Yes, together they be, but should
exist separate, as far from
each other as the
galaxy allows,
their *******
a'twinkling.

For they conspire, yes discuss the
state of man. Compare notes
with the Scorpion, the Bull
the Ram.

The Water bearer floods the skies
as naive children wish. And
laughs into the void of
space where swim
two starry gems,
the Fish.

Oh, hope of Man, how only God
allows, the murky fate which
only heaven vows.

Look not to sky to find your
answers there. The ******
and the stealthy Crab
forswear.

Yes, to try to count the stars?
Absurd! The Morning Star
is but a
flash in the eye

of a

BIRD


Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 12, 2014
Those who believe in astrology
are not taking into consideration
one thing. Who MADE all
this? I cut out the middleman
and go right to the
SOURCE.
We are monuments.
Every one of us.
I see before me,
men, women and children
and each one of us is a pillar
upon which entire worlds were built.
Too often do I find this innate sense of guilt,
that stems from not becoming
what we should have been.
I've seen opera singers sell their vocal chords
and take up vows of silence.
I've seen warriors give up the art of violence
and become holy men.
I suppose everything will fall in doubt,
now and then.
But we are pillars,
built to hold up things bigger than ourselves.
If any single one of us fails,
our whole house grows weaker.

This is the place we have been given,
to walk upon and live in.
Each one of it's valleys and peaks
and ditches and creeks
has heard the voice that speaks
of humanity.
Our impact upon this land is timeless.
Yet it seems that yesterday's graveyards,
will become today's sandboxes
until they are tomorrow's graveyards.

We are the pillars that hold up the sky,
we will all stand and we will all fall,
without really knowing why,
but the morale of every story
is hidden behind the words
like the forest behind the trees.
I know we all have memories
but these,
these are for you.
Even if all they ever do
is get you through this one day
then that have paved the way
for tomorrow.
That's all you can ask for, really,
is tomorrow.
One day, we will be denied.
"Before you left you slammed me up against a wall, ripped open my chest and laid a broken record on my heart. Now my insides only play the same **** tune, screaming at me "he never loved you."
-Kahla Mercadante
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