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The good die young
                         The young die dumb
                                         We didn't iron our shirts
                                                          ­I guess we're not chosen ones.
Cheap mascara ruined.
Trixie started to cry,
as she watched the doctors
rot the apple of her eye.

Not with worms,
and not with disease,
but with scalpels and masks,
holstered with their fancy degrees.

As the gas evicted her
from our reality,
she slipped into a false state
of peaceful prosperity.

Then came along,
to Trixie's surprise,
an image of an angel
descending from the skies.

The angel was sarcastic,
and foul and rude,
appearing drunken and angry,
ruining her sedated mood.

The angel stumbled up,
and slurred some words,
about how only humans killed their offspring,
never the bees or the birds.

Then the angel smirked,
and said "*******!"
Not only did you manage to **** one,
but two.

Trixie died inside,
just as Trixie's twins
died alive.
Insomnia inspired Trixie's rude awakening, sorry for the ****** quality.
Dipped in grease
and drowned in ****
Society gives back,
but only to the pegs that fit.
***
What's is ***?
The grinding of two opposite ***
Or two people who are madly in love with each other.. And want to show there affection in many different ways.
***
Making love,
a sweaty pit stop
between the sheets.
Politicians,
librarians,
directors,
janitors,
authors,
qu­eens,
kings,
moms,
you,
me,
All guilty of this bittersweet act of sticky significance.
All willing to tangle our limbs every night.
 Jul 2015 brooke myers
Earl Jane

Our love,

                Are like the stars and moon,



                                   Colliding in love and romance,
    
But in the end,



                                                 They just explode,



Leaving shattered smithereens behind.




                           © Earl Jane
                             ♥ E.J.C.S.
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