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Aggressively self-conscious
His excited fingers stumble along the outline of her body,
Bemused in the smoke.
His mind flies as his nerves sing.
Beautiful, behind the smoke;
She’s used to better.
Losing her patience,
Kissing his warm neck with a mouthful of smoke,
A limp wrist and bored finger.
It stings her eyes;
Smoke, suspended and still in the room,
Becoming part of the air.
His smile, awkward and pale;
Sick with her sense of failure.
Dazed by the smoke
She grabs her skirt, tucks in her blouse;
Watching him watch her through the screen of smoke
From his naked mattress.
Her shape is a ghost behind its shield,
He was touching her only moments ago.
She is gone. The door locks.
Sunrise paints his time lost.
In the room, smoke tells of past events.
She is busy living; he won’t call.
This, between him and the smoke, suspended and still in the room,
Smoke that has become part of the air.
Blue blankets
engulf me like the ocean
I drift off into rifts of soft waves
caressing
*******
every thought in my mind
sublime
Im floating
wind from my fan is blowing
and little splashes of water lift off the surface
kissing my face
beneath eyelids
I see mountains
far and ever lasting
puffs of smoke from my incense
settle there intent
in clouds of beckonig adventure
in the valleys of these slopes
there my hopes
lie
a journey by and by
and with every slip
of somber eyes
I release and i rise
for it all is about to begin
the life of the soul within
 May 2013 Chris Thomas
Eilish
Last night I discovered galaxies
They were caught in waves
Washing up onto the shore
Following along behind us
Leaving our footsteps to glow

Last night I lay in a field
Two strangers by my side
Soon to become new friends
We spoke of the world
and watched the planets wave hello

Last night I thought of you
Your spirit by my side
I wanted to swim in everything
Take your hand and bring you
Into the deep warmth of below
Nearing night, lovelorn evening sky blushes, turns crimson.
Her face, brushing his, trembles with uncontrollable passion.
The sea, clearly is impatient, descending sun so expectant.
Her lips inches closer, his passionate heart is ebullient.
The heaving burden of night, weighs gently upon earth,
The sands of the beach, give way to her lithe body's weight.
Together they savor the wonder, that single moment brings.
We are weapons of mass destruction.
Our actions serve as declarations of war,
And our words act as missiles that are sent to wreak chaos.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

We leave our destruction to fester more havoc,
And we turn a blind eye to our victims.
We try to cover our created chaos with purposes and goals.
However, the damage has been done.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can hurt me.

Time eventually covers our victim’s wounds.
Ultimately, they are left with scars from the battle.
And in the darkest of nights, in the midst of their dreams, our words create nightmares.
Jerking forward from their unpleasant slumber, our victims realize that this is reality.
They wake up ******, broken, and barren.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words have hurt me.

- J.M.
 May 2013 Chris Thomas
Kacie
You were forever on my mind.

Your eyes,
Your dimples,
Your entire ******* face.

I stopped thinking for me
And started to think for you.

Will he like this shirt?
He won't like me if I gain anymore weight.
Does he prefer my hair up or down?

I should have ran then.

Now here I sit
Watching the waves roll in,
Completely devoid of emotion.

I've cried my heart out until i could cry no more.
I decided then to pack away my heart.

I wrapped it up in the newspaper from last Sunday.
The one that mentioned all the graduating seniors.
I whimpered a little when I read your name.

Then I placed it in a cardboard box.
I ****** in a deep breath when I realised
That box had your mixtapes in them.

I shoved the box that held my heart into the back of my closet;
The one you hid in when my parents came home unexpectedly.

I take a few deep breaths whenever I see that box.

I remember taking a sharpie and writing a few words on the top.

NEVER TRUST A BOY WITH GREEN EYES AND A GUITAR.
 May 2013 Chris Thomas
Chin-ok
They told me it was metal,
but I didn't believe a word.
But now I find it's iron
of the strongest, finest kind.
Ah! Here is my little bellows,
I think I'll melt it down.
I want to smile
And say 'im fine'
And i want that
One day...
To not be a lie
I once knew a Tazmanian Devil,
She was young, a little older than I,
A friend she was, we had such fun,
We’d laugh together ‘til we’d cry.

I loved this Tazmanian Devil, I did,
She always had me in stitches,
And when we weren’t laughing and fooling around,
We were messing around without britches.

And so this Tazmanian Devil and I,
peas in a pod as we were,
took a ferry to France where we’d laugh and we’d dance,
and pretend to be wine connoisseur.

Too much wine did this Tazmanian Devil once drink,
One fateful night that will never be forgot,
When with rose-tinted glasses I was seeing pink,
I bargained for not what I got,

This Tazmanian Devil, she pulled such a face,
As if she knew what were to be,
With a clap of thunder, the wind blew me away,
And the lightning, it struck right at me,


This Tazmanian Devil, in horror she looked,
As my eyes wide as saucers did tell,
Rarely speechless was I but no sound I could make,
Other than three words “What the Hell?”

I returned to my home with Tazmanian Devil,
Nothing said of that dreadful night,
We spoke the odd word here and there,
But only to be polite,

The Tazmanian Devil, the one from down under,
And I ended our little fling,
And I hope that encountering lightning and thunder,
Is a once in a lifetime thing.
Written at the age of 15.
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