November 29th, 2014

Dear Chris:
  
I miss you dear, I'd like to say. Though it's been six months, thoughts of you are here to stay. My words turn to putty and I wish to form them like clay because there's so much to you I wish to convey. I've been traveling and unraveling the belt loops of life, and striding through gliding on ice skates from strife. I don't know if still I can sing the same tune. Our dreams from the Bay have been vexing me; perplexing me since June. The ring you gave me has my fingers swollen like my head, just like a balloon! And I don't know if it makes me sullen to confess when you asked for my hand, even hypothetically, I was to be your wife complete with white dress. Somewhere along the line that dream has changed. Though I feel that this letter was written selfishly. I really must say.. All I know is that I miss you Chris, I have missed you since May.

-Adeline

December 1st, 2014

Adeline:
   
I was wanton and flagrant when your letter was received. I was bounding and bursting; hardly contained in my seat. Your familiar fragrance beseeching my heart's conceit, and in your confidence said that you're missing me. Until the usual silence declares again it's already half past three. Time to wash away delusions that are causing my hope to reek.
Still..

Certainly there will be another chance to hear from you next week.

Mystery compels his curiosity,
and he's curious about everything like a child.
Revealing his ticking gears in a timely fashion.
He used to wear his passions and
his heart strung out on the sponge's sleeve,
But it only brought pain; deposition from grief

*So the gift I bereave to you from the ashes of the old me is someone honest and true, who takes chance's Pitfall into consideration. Scribing my words to you how a Phoenix sheds it's plumes. No more I love you's until I feel you saying I love you too.

The virtuous society Lost regulates overwhelming
                               DISTASTEFUL
                               Condescension
Depraved citizens all contained then become cynical
                                BREAKING
                                Reprehension
A mandate or suggestive guideline to think like a criminal

One taste and bang pounds the hammer
Sitting patiently seething with bedside manner...

Staring at the fix in my hands
I've been lost in a wonderful fantasy
It was never the plan but I developed schemes
I'm fighting the disease that wants me to drown
Plotting my escape when not a soul is around
Hoping never to be found again

With one decision I could let go
Mixing a cocktail of saliva and bliss
For one last show
Dancing in a wonderland wrought by disgrace
Leaving no trace after the chase
I'll finally close my eyes
As death's scythe sings me lullabies
The nightmare defaced

All the lies wrapping around my throat
The waste choking me, wishing to leave my lungs
Then I die
But life's mysteries just so happened by

The moment of decision
Fades to remission

Whispers it's leave on the breeze again
To return in a moment's time

Him:
I'd like to request that we take a digital snapshot,
not remember in black and white.
Our keen insight developing symphonies
Our harmonious future.
I need a piece,
I need the key to twist
Turn this defeating suture.

Her:*
It breaks my heart to see your disease.
In my bones I wish to mend your seams
I'd give you my lungs to let you breathe
To you my love I send
. . .But to me your soul is dead
I'd rather be friends instead

Derive your own meaning while poets stay dreaming and fat cats stay scheming...

A dame grown broken down spills her heart out with the blood she can't lend. My best friend has to get by on food stamps with a 9 to 5 to pay for his insulin. Diabetes ain't no joke and don't ask why they haven't provided a cure. It's a testament to how money talks while he endures the sufferin' for others to get at that comb of honey. Did I forget to mention, all y'all listening, that we're barely over twenty? Meanwhile my lil sis lies bedridden comatose while the doctors with fancy degrees shake their heads at this personal disease they can't diagnose. Young in the deteriorating body she was given while much older in all her pride, accepting what fate has dealt her with and knowin' peace inside.  Boast 'bout how you got diamonds in yo teeth, and how the welfare you're making is more than I get paid overtime to feed my fam, ILY. Lather, rinse, repeat, take a moment to be grateful for your bed. I'll take this hate raw and remember there are fates far worse than death. Not to sound pretentious, like we've taken worse blows than others who are stressin'. After all, the message that we wish to confide:
Every breath is precious, it matters what you do with your time, down to the last second.

I'm tired of writing poetry for all the desolate disgraces I see in this world. Homeless hit a peak of 2.5 million children country wide in this land of opportunity. How are you supposed to survive with no role models or daily inspiration? The lessons you cherish are when your next meal arrives, not waiting on your pension. Suspended through the thicket of all this strife, and they are the ones who are grateful day and night. The smallest hospitality does not pass through their ears while comfortable in the heat you're deciding which brand of beer to choose. Intoxicate yourself like your problems will just vanish while a little girl no more than four begs strangers for a sandwich. Then blame the victims for stealing your bits of gold, when all they wanted was a blanket to keep out of the cold.