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Its real
But if I stay busy
Maybe I wont find it
That complicated
Over think it
I'm dissent
With myself
Even sitting gets my heart beating

Caved in
I've been sitting here.
Reading a book.
Browsing the news paper.
Sipping my tea. (ironically)
It's a little chilly to be outside.
Aside from you...
no one else is around.

You are several
tables away.
Busy in your notebook.
Or is it  a journal?
You haven't looked up,
since you sat down.

I glance at you
on occasion.
but you're always busy.
I had hoped to catch you eye,
but you just won't
look up.
So, I'm still sitting here.
I have written three ******* books about you,
and all you ever gave me,
was a half finished song
and a broken heart.
I've lost gallons of blood
Torn miles of skin
But the darkest of my scars
Started within
You called me a friend
Even called me your kin
I was there with you
To see every end
As the sun dipped way down
You told me you'd stay
It was only right
As you'd come to say
But as night gave way
And I lay awake
Opening my eyes
Was unearthing a grave
You died with what I saw in you
Withered and worn
And inside me something changed

*A scar was born
Friends come and go, but the feelings they inspire stay as long as you hold them.
Separate yourself,
pull yourself away
from the mundane.

Think deep,
deep thoughts of me.
Split your mind
into a million particles of fantasy.
Let me explode,
into your sweetest

I want to take you,
make you breathless,
carress you with clairvoyant-love,
so real.
The sting of the blade
Comforting warm blood
Blood pooling on my body
Symbolizing my demons
Draining out
Lost in the moment
Not thinking about pain
Physical pain rises above
Blood representing my soul
Everything numb
Blissful feeling
 Sep 2014 Dean Eastmond
 Sep 2014 Dean Eastmond
This dark sky?
The fiduciary to our secrets,
Those stars that illuminate it?
Solitary moments   we spent  together,
That cloud covered moon?
*All that we can, and cannot be
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