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 Feb 2015 Bottoms
M
Problems
 Feb 2015 Bottoms
M
The problem is that I can see you in my rear view mirror waving good bye every time I try to steer towards something better,
And I reverse back into your arms
In a way that sends my heart crashing back into your atmosphere.

The problem is that I can see me in your bed for hours on end
Researching your skin with my keen eye
So I can kiss at what you would call imperfections.

The problem is that the rose colored glasses I put on
The day I laid on the couch with you and told you I loved you
Haven't lose their hue, haven't lost their tint on my world.

The problem is that I'd drunkenly fall into your arms
The same way I did over a year ago
And I know you wouldn't catch me.

The problem is that you were the one that got away
And you ran fast and far
Because you needed to get away;
That was what I became to you.

The problem was that I taught you more about breaking than heart
And you taught me more about patience than tolerance
And at the end of it all I learned how to live a life without you in it because that was my only option.

The problem is that I am still in love with you
And you're in love with the life
That doesn't have a remnant of me.

The problem is that I am in love with you
And your life
Had no room for me
My heart will not be denied
Soul, body, and mind
I will not be confined
I'll reach for the sky
This, I will live by

Even after I die
I will be immortal
My words have no goodbyes


**-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
Bend at the waist
be a doll, doll,
dance your *** down
this way, my way
into sentiment, burning
images onto the brain
you can't get away.

Bend babe, shake or
shiver as you please
let lethargy melt into
unkempt smiles, deep
dimples of face-skin
softened in sweet sun ray.

All the people in the street.
Where are they going, and
what does that mean in the
end-times, the ever-present hour
of a dying world's last breaths,
here for sole reason of shepherding
the sheep, because you're a wolf
are you not?

Miles above the weeping masses,
holding it together with barely
a grip to give name; coping
they call it, accepting reality as
objective, something separate from
myself.

I imagine the world as a bubble
and I hold the pin-needle, too close
to body to alarm and too close
to bubble to bat away, bend
please, bend at wrist for sake of
sanity, bury yourself neck-deep in
chance. Bend babe,
bend away.
 Sep 2014 Bottoms
Jen Jo
Moonlight
 Sep 2014 Bottoms
Jen Jo
I love the moonlight.
Almost like an invitation to a far away dreamland.

But even the moonlight becomes you.
You even took the moonlight away from me.
Sitting on the cold roof of your ageing apartment, I could barely find a fresh breath of air while you abused smoke after smoke.

The taste of ***** so crisp on my tongue and yet it was you, that made me feel drunk.
du siger, jeg er smuk
og det er næsten overbevisende
så siger du, himlen er grøn hver torsdag, og at ferskner er lilla
du siger så mange smukke ord, der klæder dine øjne på en måde,
der gør dig så grim, at jeg ser den
anden vej
når du taler til mig
- digte om det, der aldrig skete
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