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 Oct 2016
Pauline Morris
Close to death
A finale breath
Reaper's touch
A finale hush
Pain dissipates
In loved one's eyes reinstates
 Oct 2016
Lunar
People label me as one of those very observant ones they have ever met in their lives. Whatever I think about others, is close enough to ninety percent of the truth (not to judge, of course).

And it is also truth that those who laugh the most, cry the most. I guess this also applies to those very positive people, who are the most negative in their heads or they've also been through the most negative incidents.

There is a certain boy, a young man, who just entered the twenties stage of life. I observe and read him, and I have been doing this for the past eight months.

He is quiet, he is kind, he is a very bright person who looks out for others, probably too much. He is smart and has attended top schools and won several competitions in the martial arts, as well as performing and fine arts. A very artistic soul, quite opposed to his rather playful countenance; though beauty is displayed in all his capabilities and striking features. Even the way he speaks is soothing and gentle, and I admit I would sleep to it and regret how his voice is too nice to be literally slept on.

I know a part of his painful past with the spinal tuberculosis accident or the fact when he couldn't enter his dream art school. And perhaps, a darker part of his history that is unknown except by him and his close ones.

But I can see it, I can see it on his face, in his actions and some of his words: sometimes he tries to get attention by doing unnecessary or silly things; says the weirdest of phrases; he gets tired and there's this certain feeling lurking in his gaze. He always looks like he's looking for something, for someone. He always looks like he is wondering about everything and anything. He even looks lost or frustrated on some occasions.

Honestly, a Sadness Collector knows when another is nearby or in sight. I am one, and I know he is another. He always wants people to depend on him or for them to think that he is alright. It's not so bad, but I wish he would rest his little fragile heart that can only take so much of others' sadness. He still has his own sadness to keep under all of that. I want him to give some of it to me that the burden and tears may be shared between us, and he can live a little lighter.

But I love him, because he is a different Sadness Collector. He always cheers others up and tries to help. He always compliments others. He is always willing to learn the right way, to go out and do his best. This Sadness Collector doesn't deserve to be one; he deserves to collect happiness instead.

Although there are times when his friends say that he is quieter that usual, and a bit less active. He says he usually sleeps it off and feels better when he awakes after. He says he rarely gets stressed but when he does, it's a whole different thing and only he knows how his own mind can destruct his built-up facade of confidence. Maybe he gets too quiet at times because he thinks he might make a mistake again. He may appear very vain and very confident, but I'm afraid it might all just be an image that he's painted of himself for everyone around him to see.

His music taste is very much like mine. He shared some alternative music, but as soon as I heard the melody and read the lyrics, it doubled as a small cry of distress.

I’m actually very beautiful when the world is pitch-black
The most I’ll get is being consumed when I try to love
The trouble is irrelevant
It doesn’t matter what’s wrong

If only I can be flattered just like you do
Then the torment around me will perhaps die out
I’m not concerned about how many chances I get
As fearless as a giant; indulging myself; however I’m no match

Ugly, don’t turn the lights on
The love I want is haunted on the pitch-black stage
Ugly, in this ambiguous time
My existence is like an accident

Some look beautiful after a drop of tear
Some just throw away their name
As long as you are hypocritical enough you won’t be afraid of anything, right?
If the script is written well, who will be more dignified?
I can only silently face the beautiful innocence
There are many chances for desire to become drowning in alcohol
Like the fearlessness of dust
Becoming ash, who will remember who
Who cares if he’s a match

Ugly, you won’t blame them if you get used to it
Get high and stomp on it with strength
Ugly, this is our time
It would actually be a shock if I don’t exist

Oh, how I want to embrace him every time I think of him listening to that song. As emotional human beings, we pay attention to such lyrics more often than not, that reflect the listener's or our emotions. Maybe he thinks he lacks in many, many ways. It is normal for him to think so. But I hope he doesn't dwell on it. He likes this anime show that I watch, too. That show, though, is a sad one which shows the masks of society and the gore of the past behind every flawless present.

He is a very trustworthy friend; a funny guy who is "in love" with himself; a talented individual who loves people and language; an artist of most arts, as well as an art himself. And as much as I say that I want to be the one who collects his sadness or whom he shares his load of sadness with, sometimes I doubt he will ever let me.

I feel like I can no longer do anything anymore for him because he is the one who has already collected mine.
Explicitly, this is how I see WJH so far; past all the glitter and glamour of his fast-paced lifestyle. I don't think there has ever been a moment where he never made me sad on purpose. He always collects my sadness, in other words, he always makes me happy. One day, maybe I can make him happy too, and collect his sadness.

Wjh-- It's been nine months ever since I started to know and love you. I'll stay until either of us has to let go. But I know I still love you after knowing all those sad things. One day, I will definitely play You Are the Moon on the piano while singing it to you. Even in dark times, you have to keep shining. You may not think you are, but my dear, you are shining much more than anyone I know. Don't think your light will fade out yet soon.

PS. These are purely all on what I observe, think and assume about him. If I get to know him, I hope the bad side is not as bad as I imagine or see it to be.
PPS. im a proud infj!! and i really, really love observing people (it is my most useful talent when it comes to dealing with people and it helps me out in my career)
 Oct 2016
Sean Hunt
We will all be forgotten, of this there is no doubt, though we live as if a world without us could not exist.  We grossly over-exaggerate our importance, arrogantly and drastically overestimating our relevance to the orbit of all the planets and galaxies, and living beings surrounding us.

How many years will your memory remain
in the minds of men and women?

Put your self in perspective.  Reflect on how forgettable you are.

Stars and tears all disappear

Sean Hunt
 Oct 2016
Hadrian Veska
Something strange sits
In the murkey mist of ages
Just far enough out of reach
To keep us from its truth

The closest ever we come to it
Is the soft ringing in our ears
That comes only in dead of night
When all but the mind sleeps

Every night does it play
In vain hope
Lulling us to sleep
And bidding us to dream

Desperately calling to us
With all its might
So that one day
We might wake up
 Oct 2016
Slur pee
Drain this rain from my head,
The flood is rising and my eyes are ******.
Thoughts trapped away in wonderland,
Abandoned by the trace of wonderment.
This tissued space is closing in,
I can feel it tear and hemorrhage.
Rivers of red flowing through wrinkles,
Ivory bones crumple and crinkle.
I'll sit alone, on a dusty throne
Inside of my clogged up skull.

-SLuR
 Oct 2016
Savannah Charlish
You bought me roses
I watched them die

You told me you loved me
I believed every lie
 Oct 2016
redemptioneer
Not to sound blunt or anything but
You felt like a car crash

Looking at you was like
Watching tragedy unfold,
Like watching the car tailspin or
Hydroplane and wrap itself
Around a telephone pole
Or bridge
Or person.

It's like you knew this wasn't going to end well
For either of us
I was just trying to get somewhere and
You were just trying to get in the way

Like a barrier between everything,
You were a traffic jam on the way home from church,
A Sunday morning plagued with grief and guilt and all the glamor.

It must have been nice
To talk to all those emergency medics
Whose side of the story did you tell?

The truth or the other truth?
How dare you choose dare.
This isn't a game fit for liars or lovers.
This isn't a game at all.

Something about sterile sheets in a hospital room
And someone waiting outside the door.
Something about screaming
"let me in and let me see."
Something about crying and
"you're not just a body to me."

Why was that all I ever was to you?
Bones and bad lighting and
Holding a hand that doesn't want to be held.
The doctor comes in and tells me
It's time to let go.

I know.
It's an overdue goodbye.
You and I were always meant to end.

Something tells me the hand I was holding
Wasn't yours.
Something tells me I attended my own funeral
And you didn't bother showing up.

Didn't even leave flowers.
Didn't even cry.
Not even a “Hey, I'm sorry life didn't work out for you this time.”

You left me there on the side of the road
And on the side of life,
Exposed and about to expire.
Something tells me we crashed long ago
But you were always the one
Who could walk away from the wreckage.

You could always walk away from everything.
Including me.
for my ex, you were always a disaster but i loved you so.
 Oct 2016
phil roberts
Those days are still around
Right there in the eyes
Small pieces of scripture
Spiritual desperation
Down all those long years gone
Gleaming
Needing
Seething
Spitting teeth and grieving
And a child still cries
In all the bleakest nights
Within the shell of an adult
Still cries, still cries
Still prays for someone kind
To stop the shaking
And wipe away the tears
To fill the belly
To count the injuries
And fill in the forms
But nothing ever -
Somehow never -
Helps

                By Phil Roberts
 Oct 2016
Laura Duran
You thought that you could break me
You thought that I would fall
You thought that I'd be lonely
but it's not that way at all

Yes, you broke my heart
It's in pieces I'll admit
but I'll put it back together
bit by tiny bit

It's true that I loved you
It's true that my heart aches
but you'll get nothing more from me
There's nothing left to take

I did every thing I could
to show you how I felt
You did nothing but to show me
the losing hand that I was dealt

Such twisted lies you told
No real reason why
I'm putting you behind me
Time to say goodbye
 Oct 2016
Patricia Policarpio
Isn't it fun to read between the lines?
Like for every sentence and every word
A writer conveys something with so much worth

Isn't it fun to read beyond the lines?
That even though the writer wrote it with boundary
But you're thinking leads you to a endless land from just a cranny

Isn't it fun to read behind the lines?
Like for every lovely and eloquent lines
You can see the dripping tears and a torned heart with no rhymes

Isn't it fun to read among the lines?
Tread among the words and unspoken letters
Where you'll meet and see yourself face to face with wings and feathers

Isn't it so much fun to read a writer's lines?
And isn't it so much fun to write a writer's line?
You'll never know where reading and writing will take you.
Isn't it so fun?
©
October 7, 2016
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