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 Sep 2014
Emma Pickwick
Lay it down for my daddy in the middle of February.
My head on his chest while he sleeps.
Hearing his sweet soul beat into my ear,
Chanting to me in a foreign language.
All the sugar and roses in the world could never be as sweet as my daddy.
I struck a chord in his heartstrings,
And he felt it real good.
I smiled, he laughed, I couldn't help myself.

I got him up to dance with me in the winter air,
But found myself on the verge of tears when the song neared its middle,
And couldn't figure out why.
But I cried, I cried, I cried.

Lay it down for my daddy in the middle of February,
He knows me so well,
My god, he knows me.
He kisses my forehead,
And forgives me for the poison I have slipped him in between my words,
I'm sorry.
I hug his waist and rest my head once again.
I hear his breaths, long and slow,
While he slips back into his dreams,
And hopes I can't hurt his tender heart until he wakes.

Lay it down for my daddy  in the middle of February,
And hope we make it to March.
 Aug 2014
thevagabondking
if only it were that easy
that i was actually just ink
(instead of blood)
it would make you erasing
the beginning of our story
(when we said forever)
so much ******* easier.
 Aug 2014
Winter Allen Jane
We cannot prevent people from falling in life
Blinded by our own salted skin and crunching bones
And only notice the wounds on someone's face
when they knock on our door
and ask if they can borrow a plaster

I can only watch you with deep s y m p a t h y
when your scarred heart gasps for breath
if only I can heal your p a i n
if only I could catch you whenever you fall
but I'm just another helpless creature
expecting myself to be m o r e
and guilt appears faster than rain on car windows
and my heart goes up in the flames of grief
the guilt grows damp before my eyes
plasters do not heal w o u n d s
want to bury them deep down with me
your misfortunes are mine
My crooked heart knitted to y o u r s
And I just want to say that I'm really sorry
for letting you f a l l
I should've hold your hand more tightly
I couldn't swim and you jumped in

                                                             ­                  and I couldn't s a v e you

we always know everything afterwards
so we cannot prevent our people from falling
We can run as fast as we can
but time is faster than realization

                                                    ­              We are either  d e a d  or  l a t e.
Jun 17 2014
© WAJ
 Aug 2014
amrutha
When your heart beats against mine, don't look away.
When I drown you into unimaginable depths, I hear the violin wailing,
through the radiant blue waters of this ocean.
The waters ache at night,
And the moonlight heals.
Give to me the sorrow. Cast on me your spell.
It hurts, and you won't stop.

Please don't stop.
 Aug 2014
Winter Allen Jane
Turn the lights out

Touch me in the dark

kiss me at midnight

and taste the whiskey on my tongue

pour wine all over my body

and taste it with your warm soft lips

kiss me gently in my neck

as your fingers are dancing under my clothes

making me crave you more and more

dont say anything

your lips on mine say much more

no ocean can extenguish our burning hearts

no freezer can refrigerate this hot desire

I don't know life nor death

day nor night, right nor wrong

I only know that I want you so bad right now

everything else is irrelevant and forgotten
Jun 21 2014
© WAJ
 Aug 2014
Chloe
Do not look at me and say,
“Goodbye.”
As our bodies pass and go
through the transparency of space.
The hushing scrape of concrete
rests in such parting words.
weighing me down with doubt.
“Goodbye.”
It sounds so final
like the last exhalation in life,
or the flutter of a paper heart
mimicking a white flag.
“Goodbye.”
It’s reminiscent of loss.
 Aug 2014
Chloe
His dilated pupils
wide and dark as they were
brought to mind black holes.
Their pull was irresistible
its gravity already
enveloping my mass.
Leaning forward as if
to add me to him
I cautiously peered
over the lip in his eyelids
to the tunnels of a man-made abyss.
For a minute I stared
legs dangling, fingers tangling
the sheets on his bed
thinking about choices and paths
and set destinations.

A line of white sand points at me.
Arranged just so upon the glass shelf.
I roll and unroll the twenty
into then out of a tube absently;
contemplating the barrier I knew
would shatter into nothingness
if the sand was inhaled backwards
like it could rewind time.
But I wanted black holes
in my eyes to explore
the vastness of it all.

Time rewinds, short circuits, and I’m here
in the cutting clarity of awake.
It feels good.
A lightning storm of sparks
crackling against my neurons.
It feels real good.

Licking my finger I trap the
white substance between
the ridges on my fingerprint
and scrub at my gums
enjoying this new-found better.

Throughout the night I
gouge tally marks of coke
into the walls of my nostril
and douse my liver
with shots of Tequila
getting increasingly more lost
in the eyes of my reflection.
 Aug 2014
Chloe
Rebellion smells like apples, cinnamon
and *****.
On a gravel road swallowed whole by
a surrounding forest of lush greens
we stood in opposition, revolution
firearms nestled in our hands.

We rebelled against alcoholism.
Drunk, amber soldiers stumbled across
the uneven surface of the log they vacated.
Our bullets shattered them one by one.
The rifle’s kick back slammed against me.
The cracking echo of each gunshot
filled the hollow chiseled in my chest
and tenderized my brain.    

Shards of hard cider and hard liquor
spattered the dirt; the bright red
of the Angry Orchards’ labeling
bleeding war into the earth and grit.

We searched for survivors.  
The air was perfumed with Cinnamon Apple
and *****.
The soft spice of autumn and harvest
wafted gently up my nose
followed by the sharp scent of
disinfectant, hospitals, stainless steel.
It was the smell of *****, my default.

Nudging a dusty bottle neck with my toe
I couldn’t help but think back to  
the angry, open-mouthed kisses
I once shared with my bottles
early in the morning until late at night.
A furious thirst surged through me.
I still wanted a drink.
 Aug 2014
Petal pie
His name purred on her lips; 
She loved the way it
Rolled around on her tongue,
Loosened her vocal chords 

Every time she said 
his name aloud,
It felt as though she were 
Becoming more and more
Well versed in him; 
His character,
His very being
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