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"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Oh, will you ever return to me,
My wild first force, will you return
When the old madness comes to
Blacken in me and to burn
Slow in my brain like a slow fire
In a blackened brazier - dull
like a smear of blood,
Humid and hot evil, slow-sweltering
up in a flood!
Oh, will you not come back, my fierce song?
Jubilant and exultant, triumphing over
the huge wrong
of that slow fire of madness that feeds
on me - the slow mad blood
thick with its hate and evil, sweltering
up in its flood!
Oh! will you not purge it from me -
my wild lost flame?
Come and restore me, save me from the
intolerable shame
Of that huge eye that eats into my
Naked body constantly
And has no name,
Gazing upon me from the immense and
Cruel bareness of the sky
That leaves no mercy of concealment
That gives no promise of revealment
And that drives us on forever with its
lidless eye
Across a huge and houseless level of
a planetary vacancy
Oh, wild song and fury, fire and flame,
Lost magic of my youth return, defend
me from this shame!
And Oh! You golden vengeance of bright
song
Not cure but answer to earth's wrong
"we're not psychologists, you know"
yeah, but we can pretend
lying under pine, oak + ash

i watched them hold eachother mostly every day
until we felt everything was going to be grand
or at least okay.                            
it felt less and less like a therapy
more like addiction, a prescription, need

nicotine hands, freezing fingertips
whiskey breath + colder lips
i tried to write about how
the flowers craved the warmth
from the sun,
but somehow i ended up
writing about
you

to me, the world doesn't
spin in your absence,
and when you leave
the sky becomes just a
little bit darker

your voice would, always,
be my favorite soundtrack
i hope you never fall,
you never feel pain

you are an addiction,
i'm afraid too much of you
would be an
unhealthy overdose

i hope you never think of me
as much as i think
about waking up
next to you at 3am
While((myYearsLeft.size())!=0){
        byYourSide=true;
        myLove++;
        }
Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,
Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended.
And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The color and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;
But in your day this moment is the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun has set.
So you say I’m harsh
Very well.
I admit
I am not very nice
At any point in time
But I try.
I try to make everyone happy
I try to help
But in the end of the day
I’m just a bothersome pest
A shallow, annoying
Pest.
Yet when I don’t reply
You say I don’t care.

Sorry if it hurt you
Sorry if it added on to your problems.
But harsh?

Everyone’s had it tough
Not only you.
You’ve definitely had it really rough
With him out there
Doing God knows what.
Sure, your life hasn’t been really happy
Well you know what?
So hasn’t mine.

My books
The stories I lose myself in
To escape
You took them away.
My connection
With all the friends I adore
You cut me off
The things that I enjoy doing
You turn them into work
Making me loath them
My emotion
You ban them
Make me suppress them
Making me pretend that I am
Once again
The cheery, innocent little girl
From years before
Who will never
Return
Keeping my guard up
Even at home
Only till I am safely under the sheets
In the dark
With the door closed
Alone
And yet, I still do as you please.

Fine.
Say that I’m selfish
Say that I demand too much
Say that I do too little
Say that I’m hopeless
But I’m only human.
Am I?
Who knows.
Probably a monster.
A leech.
A burden.

So.
Harsh?
 May 2013 Ashley Dennis
Gary Muir
you stuffed the sharpest fragments of your past
deep into the pockets of that green coat
so that they couldn’t pierce you anymore

sometimes in conversation, your hand shifts towards a pocket
I give the gesture attention, so you go ahead and reach in

the memory you pull out, you hold before you like a line-up
I tell you I’m not taking mental-picture mugshots

all I want is to hold the parts of your past that hurt the most
and grace them with my tears

for when I look at you, I see a girl with the courage
to pick the broken fragments of her shattered self off the floor
and piece them back together

I see a girl who dares to ask the deepest questions of life
because she has already been broken
and is not afraid of the answer
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