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Your lips taste black cherry
and your tongue melts in my mouth....
Her eyes swallowed my heart like
a black hole swallows a galaxy
"I undressed you with my lips
my tongue was a blanket that covered your insecurities, your flaws and your fears, your naked body look beautiful behind a camera and the whole world laughed, I convinced you that you were everything to me, only to watch you crash and burn...."
You sit at our kitchen table
Guitar in your hand
Playing beautiful melodies of love
And tunes from far away lands
Then at night you play with a rock band Hells Bells is their name
Music blaring
Heads are thrashing
The whole room goes insane
At the end of the night you pack up your gear
Head on out the door
Home to your sweet darling
To play your beautiful melodies once more
A poem for my husband x
There should appear some respite,
despite
the fact, I am a Nyctophile
as I too love my collapsing sight
I too flicker in the bright.
Like an earner without his earning
The dark existence,
by the sphere that lurks, partially satiated
'See-Saw' a fodder for human poets
The other aspect, totally denied.
Skin is imbalanced
which showers mixed colors
Why not an equilibrium?
Vampires licking honeyed sanity
The sane too, join the party.
But, if he complies, they wouldn't
If she complies, they wouldn't
Fluctuations are eminent
There should appear some respite,
despite
the fact, I am a dust stained file
as I too love my collapsing might
I too flicker in the bright.
she thought
that there was more
for her, he's just a bad decision
a blurry vision, alcoholic
but a drunken night in frolic
she will leave
her number still
shoot another gin and sin
chase it down with
stranger lips, lying
to herself she's over him
Do you ever drive
By a city or town in the dead of night
And wonder
About the people within?

How many are in debt from school?
How many have gone to bed with the love of their life?
How many are trying to hide family troubles behind locked doors?
Is the world's next Einstein in there?
Hollywood's next rising star?
How many go to bed afraid of coming out to their friends?
How many have some buds they'd die for in that town?
How many struggle day in and out, fleeing from a substance?
How many go through a routine each day, afraid to do more but afraid of leaving their path?
How many jot down ideas for that play they want to write on a napkin?
Is there a future president in there?
A poet of unparalleled verse?

How many people
Go from day to day in that city
Thinking they're alone in their problems
While surrounded by people who also think that?

What's going on
In those unlit houses of the city
Where the human mind resides?

Who's there?
Thoughts from a 4am bus ride in Georgia.
 May 2017 Emily Jennie
Chris Vans
Lock the doors
Drive off to the vanishing point
Lock the sky
Turn off the vocals at one point
Lock the music
Waves vibrate to the ears at one point
Lock your eyes
Deteriorating humans at one point
Unlock your gun
Unfleshed zombies at the front point
Pull the trigger
It's only you and me at one point
rid me of the dark memories that haunt my soul
shed those tears I cried so long ago, into the depths of my pillow
but only minutes have passed,
it feels like years...
the concept of time is lost on me..
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