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comedy
clandestine couples
clamerous cosmetics
coughing guffaws
garrulous giggles
gratefully grinning

grotesque charlatans...

tragedy**
torrid transgressions
tornado turnabout
tempestuous tradition
transcendent puberty
punishing parable
poignantly

pointless.


Shakespeare.
wove both into
his weft of

words.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/12/2017
Great comedy has an element
of tragedy... vice versa
 May 2017 Emily Jennie
PixieWee
Have you ever experienced the touch of death ?
I have..
Ive felt her thieving hands run through my hair.
Ive felt her abandoned palms hold my skin.
Had her frostbite fingers trace the paths  of a thousand winters across my face.
I watched as she stole everything from me.
Helplessly watching as it all disappeared.
I hid my tears amongst the April showers
Watering the flowers for the funeral in May.
The numbness of her artic touch has made my life eternally blue.
But we continue to smile because that's what life expects us to do.

~p.w
13/05/17

In memory of my Father 28/04/16
When I was a child
We threw stones outside our home,
Wishing time away.
Thorns give us scratches,
But not all can take insults,
With delicate skin.
you said you were coming
you didn't respond to me all day
it was as if I was talking to a wall,
like you left your personality at home

you're very different now
i don't think you're interested anymore
your personality is a butterfly without color
i feel as if something is wrong

is it me? are you not happy anymore?
why do you do this to me?
you make me think that you changing is my fault,
but of course i'm there to take the blame
i always am
35

Nobody knows this little Rose—
It might a pilgrim be
Did I not take it from the ways
And lift it up to thee.
Only a Bee will miss it—
Only a Butterfly,
Hastening from far journey—
On its breast to lie—
Only a Bird will wonder—
Only a Breeze will sigh—
Ah Little Rose—how easy
For such as thee to die!
my soul
has turned into a house
with leaks in its roof
my words are the raindrops
that fall through
and i
i am trying to catch them all.
wet
you are beautiful in the sound of rain and cars passing by.
i can hear my heart pounding in sync
with the raindrops knocking at the roof
and i think you can hear it too but
you're distracted by the silhouette of her ribcage.
i want to hold your hand and kiss your amygdala
but your hands are gliding along her body
as if you were beethoven
discovering the piano for the first time.
i think i felt the hurricane whisper my name
in a voice that sounded much like yours and it reminded me
that you are a natural disaster.
well, you've got yourself grafted between her legs
and my umbrella is starting to give in to the showers overhead.
i don't know how much longer i can stand seeing you
drenched in an amalgamation of her sweat with yours -
either that or you're doused in my tears.
Caught in-between a hard problem and a tragedy,
one which all thoughts conceive a calumny.

False religious declarations brought hope, a preconceived act, with all past failures examined and attacked, like a quasi-contract.

How can infinite knowledge and power create such hate, terror, and pain, similar to a suicide pact?

How does one find their own avenue? Without being stuck in the heart with a corkscrew?

Is personal discovery extinct? Do we forget the past, subconsciously ensure the failures of our future, and presently live with no imprint?

Is individuality impossible?

The characteristics are defined and distinct, but each soul's technique is quietly fluttering away from this lost mystique.

Discover the reality of you, rise up, revolt, and fight the deceitful greed and promised happiness brewed in realities poisonous stew, as it's faithful traits of trust, love, and care that create our optimistic views.

To be happy; an outdated phrase soon to be extinct.

When the downfall of morality can unfold in a blink, as we subconsciously conjure a future drearily bleak.
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