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I saw you for the first time
Behind a screen
Dressed in grey.
Brown and beautiful,
and a wearing a beanie
It was your crown

You smiled at times
And I stared in awe
My screen screamed snapshot
But I was to grasped in the moment to think
My heart beated furiously
Intoxicated by a fiery passion

Then on one faithful day
I saw you
You experience me
I layed down my lips
On thine lips of my craving
Two heart beating for you

For only one that satisfies me
I am facing you
And you, my shoe
Blushing and cringing
I lift up your face;
exquisite; a light in the dark.

I kiss you one time,
and I say to you these lines,
Come with me
Your hipster man
and hold on tight
Grip my hipster hand

Stand close to me
My hipster bride
As you my love
Swiftly hug me tight.
Our hipster heaven
Is sealed off tight

A world unknown
In my hipster mind.
Your sweet hipster lips
Press against oh me, oh my
This is where feels come from.
Shutting you up one kiss at a time

With hipster might.
Your hipster lips
Wage war with mine.
Compassionately
The freedom of my hipster mind.
We are conscience now.

We love; ebullient.
Perfectly written
To excogitate.
I love you more than
Your hipster mind can comprehend.
It can't ever be put in words.

You're my hipster wife.
I'm your one true love and..
..your hipster husband.
You hipster lips.
I hunger for, i'm starving.
My hipster source of hipster life.

I feed you love.
You are always first.
Living like mitty
Means nothing to me
If you aren't happy.
Living mitty with me.
This isn't just poetry
But a cry for help
Yesterday I lost my love
Through lack of symmetry inside myself.

I tend to overthink things
Because my imagination is alive and well
Unfortunately it not only can help me show I love her
But believe in an instant that she doesn't love me.
It's simple, see.

The trust I have in her is whole and pure; without fear.
But my imagination twists things just like the devil.
Now I am without my love.
On a mission.

What I believe is
My active imagination is the cause
for my enthusiasm.
The same enthusiasm my love fell for.

So riddle me this.
How can I STOP overthinking things,
realize it when I am(Quickly),
And shape myself in who I should be..

..without misplacing my enthusiasm
with a bore, who would begin again  overthinking from being insecure.
Why am I such a effing PARADOX?!

It's me. I know it is. She knows it is.
She is perfect. I am crippled with imperfections.
She was fantastic... And you know what, I was crap.

She doesn't know that I am still trying. But I will fix me. For us.
If heartbreak reemerges. Then I shall take my punishment. And respectfully let her go.

I just have to find balance. A controlled mind. Then I will be freed from myself.
If you have any ideas or answers to this. Help me.
at finding my insides a conical waste,
unfettered and zealous, I strolled deep into flames
in jungles of obesity and anticlimactic falls
the auras of her spells instantly dissolve
and all of the noises his bloated coffin gave
removed what remained, inside
velvet smoke culled like a viper
exhuming its prey
now hobbled crutches sway at the prow
(ship of gold holding more blue than the sea)
inhaling drops of silicon through the heated chemical rain,
melting
praying for this specter to absolve
even as it was forgiven in Eden,
now blue and useless
buried in clouds
money bags, smokestacks, white powder and heights
on bent boulevards with brutal windows
reclusive silhouette stalkers hidden just behind
red mourners on charcoal ice
window shades plume, dust and ash diffuse into
twin horned rebels with sawed off exhaust pipes
ashtray dance/\clouds hover in the dark
as she tightropes straight down into the devils heart
the mirrors that surround
are as a shroud passed down
from the heavens to alter truth
all the cracks between the blue
are here resembled
love, dearly distorted
in the absence of breath or youth
 Jul 2015 Darren Scanlon
Jasmin
She wanders,
guided by her lost soul.
She spills arts,
coming from her pure heart;
She writes words no one can understand,
yet she speaks it like it was kept in her mind
for so long, just waiting for someone to find it.
She is a masterpiece of her own,
but she has a heart of stone.
My smile is an empty mask..
My soul shadowed with darkness
I struggle each day
To face
A world of happy people..
But perhaps
Their smiles too
are only masks
And we all face the shadows
Together
Alone
The scritching and scratching of bristles on canvas,
The whispering of dancing paint strokes upon it,
Meeting and mingling with each other
And attempting to reflect
the ethereal dreams drifting deep
Within the misty maze of my mind.
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