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Annie Dark Nov 2012
My brainwaves have been blocked
By self made walls of calloused membrane.
Familiar.
The sound is familiar.
It's acidic in it's memory.
It sits.
Slowly eating away.
Fresh waves flood through,
Connecting brain thoughts
With heartbeats.
The acid stings.
Burns.
A fine frenzy. Candles. Cotton sheets.
The acid eats away.
Allowing the flood.
But it offers relief,
Soon eating up the flood
That was ****** to begin with.
It's all connected.
Annie Dark Oct 2012
D.
He looks at me with half searching eyes.
A swift nod of the head.
Quick.
Too quick.
But a hug.
Too long.
Lacking in it's effort.
Meaningless to me.
Means everything to him.
I straighten my shirt.
He has never realized what he did wrong.
Does not want to.
I don't want to.
This is strange.
We are strange.
Too close,
But equally as distant.
I prefer the distance.
That is the truth.
I can never feel his truth.
It does not radiate.
                       Looks again.
Always
    With half searching eyes.
Annie Dark Oct 2012
It's early,
But not too early.
It's grey and calm and it's what I know to be the best.
Birds, so many birds for October.
Their nonchalance is refreshing.
Just easy and calm in the not too earliness of it all.
I think they like it too, the grey.
The grey is what I remember the most out of scattered,
Tattered memories.
And breathing.
Annie Dark Oct 2012
That place.
With it's red vains of life
And breath, laced with sage and dill.
First comes the sage
Then comes the dill.
Juniper trees surround our tiny bodies.
Innocent eyes gaze at rapid wings,
Soft flesh, and seeds burst.
Sweet dew envelops the taste buds.
I skim my feet on blood red carpet,
The lines perfectly aligned.
Hopscotch through.
Never want to disrupt the perfection.
Time is still,
It dosen't have relevance here.
I prefer it that way.
TTFN.
Annie Dark Oct 2012
Her
She looks at me with what I think is love,
All I know of love;
I tug at my hair nervously,
She watches my hands with discontent,
I love her hands.
Me, biting my cuticles,
I think she may *****.
Few words come out of her mouth,
All carefully calculated
Like an incision on the first layer of skin,
Quick, clean, sterile.
Next comes the smile.
Wait.
Re-do smile, 1,2,3,4,5,6,
No, 7 times.
The smile doesn't reach her eyes.
I frown.
She looks away.
"I like your outfit."
Through smiling pressed teeth

And that is all.
She looks at me with what I think
Is love.

— The End —