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don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.
I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
mks
i turn you into poems and maybe it's because i want to see you as something special or maybe i want whatever we are to have some sort of deeper meaning that can only be explained in the most twisted similes and metaphors that make wonder about things i never should wonder about.

i turn you into poems and i ask myself; are you the tree that falls silently in the forest or are you the person that isn't around to hear it? are you the fire or the fuel that i continue to add to it? are you the cause of a chain reaction or just another part of one? is what we had the elephant in your room or was it the entire room itself?

i turn you into poems when it's late at night and i turn myself into a blank page and i cover myself with you but you are only ink and this is only a metaphor.

i turn you into poems when you look at me and i think i can hear the morning song birds telling me tomorrow will bring me happiness but i think you hear the crows and the ravens and you look ominous and i think it is because only i hear the birds and this is only a metaphor.

i turn you into poems when i turn 16 and you haven't so much as smiled at me and i turn to you when i need help and you turn away and i continue to turn you into ******* poems.

you are a book of poems resting by my bed and i am just the author.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
mks
i used to fall asleep to the same playlist every night and i would rest my head on the slow beat of some indie song that played from my phone one notch too loud and my eyelids would blink every so often when i started to drift to sleep but found myself singing along instead.

my mum always told me to turn it off and see how much quicker i would fall asleep, my mum never understood how the silence pierced my ear drums and burdened my hearing more than any song could. and i told her that it calmed me down. and i told her that the songs filled my mind with happier thoughts than those that my brain had produced during a long day. and i told myself that i needed to listen to these collaborations of sweet nothings and acoustic guitars.

i also told myself that i needed you.

and my mother never warned me about you or the damage you were capable of. she never told me to turn you down and see how much easier i would have it.

i revisited you like my ripened playlist and i told myself that you calmed me down, and i told myself that you made me happy, and i told myself that i needed you like i needed each and every one of those songs and i tell myself now that i was wrong.

i did not need you to make me happy and i did not need you to calm me down and i did not need you because you were just like those blurred melodies and messy lyrics.

you were just another song in a playlist i used to block out the silence.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
MoVitaLuna
the truth is no one ever taught me how to fix a flat tire or how to ask for help or what love was even good for in the first place

and the truth is that the cookie was good but the lemon icing wasn't and the truth is baking should be done without any kind of lemon at all

and the truth is i wish you'd hold me close enough that our skin fused together and i could burrow into your spine and learn all the things you won't teach me

and the truth is you were never good at making eye contact but i dare you to look at me long enough that i can trace the line that connects your iris to your pupil and count how many shades of black a person can produce

and the truth is i don't know if the grass has fingerprints but i know that yours are cigarette stained and no better at letting go than mine

and the truth is i am a dump site and you are an inhale and i am clockwork and you are a melody and i can't keep my teeth off your eloquence

and the truth is my feet are covered in acrylic paint from leaving smudged footprints in sparkly things

and the truth is i don't want you all to myself but you can pretend i'm yours when i'm engulfed in the ocean and making it hard for you to breathe

and the truth is i'm looking for a different kind of intimacy from you

and maybe it's just some teenage girl talking but the truth is that i want to drown with you. i want to burn with you. i want to scream with you so violently that the body that crushes my lungs crumbles and i become a balloon for real this time

and the truth is, if you hadn't called me beautiful, i would have mistaken last night for a paradise i don't believe in
this is ******
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
mks
1:23 am and you want to get drunk off alcohol and i want to get drunk off your lips but i guess it's easier to open a bottle than your mouth.

1:43 am and i know you're drinking and i long to be the cold metal you wrap your lips around and the cool liquid that runs over the mountains on your tongue.

2:15 am and you ask me how i am and you worry that i've fallen asleep but you don't see that i can't even close my eyes without seeing you, without me, and i consider never blinking again if it means i can escape that sight.

2:24 am and you tell me i'm cute. 14 times.

2:36 am "i want to kiss you" and i know your brain is fuzzy and your hands are shaking but when you tell me these 5 words i cant help myself from stretching them out and wrapping myself in them.

2:38 am "i really want to kiss you" and i know you're drunk and i know you ****** me over and i know you've said this to other girls and i know i shouldn't want to but i know that i really want to kiss you too.

2:47 am "i really wanna see you" and i wish you knew what your simple phrases do to me and maybe you do but the only thing i know for sure at this moment is that you are no good for me and i can't get enough.

2:49 am and you say you'll do anything but your intoxicated mind can't see that you've had me hooked for as long as i can remember.

3:01 am and you start to turn away and i feel you getting farther and i can't do anything to hold you in place for just a second longer. i'm choking on my words as you doubt my feelings for you and i can't help but blame myself for letting you slip away. but maybe i never really had you in the first place.

3:19 and all i hear is "no"

"fine"

"nevermind"

3:34 am and i ask you if you know how much you mean to me and you say no and i think my heart just gave up and i think you just gave up and i can't believe you'd think i'd give up

4:03 am and the door screeches behind me (****) and the air is colder than i thought (****) and i have no idea where to go (****).

4:13 am and i find myself making conversation with the rain and the earth is breathing me in and the stars look at me with such pity and i try to drown them out but i'm just a washed out girl waiting for a boy who's not coming.

4:24 am and i can't bring myself to leave this **** corner just like i can't bring myself to get over you and your stupid lips.

sometime after 4:24 am and i can see you coming towards me as a shadow in the streetlights and i don't think you have any idea how my being craves your touch, how my fingers miss the nape of your neck and how the small of my back feels so ******* abandoned.

there is no measure of time when i am with you and your hands become one with my shaking fingers and your thumb rolls over my palm and we are in the middle of the street and i think this is the first time in a long time that i do not wish for a car to come and sweep me off my feet. i think you've gotten taller but i do not feel small anymore, i do not feel empty, i do not long for an end. i think you lift me up and i think i like the way you smell and i think i'm going crazy but it seems to me that your tongue is writing love letters on mine and i can feel our chests moving, breathing heavy, and our hearts have left our lonely bodies and merged as one in the air above our heads.

5:18 am and your touch is a fire that i do not want to put out. but it is raining and i have to go but i think i can hear it sizzling still. i do not think that your beer and **** can compare to the high i get from your lips on my neck or the dizziness i get from your fingers running along my spine. your kiss is addictive and i could get drunk off of you all the time. if only i could.
written at 5 am and my shirt smells like him and rain and bad choices disguised as groundbreaking epiphanies.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
Ruby Flynn
theres a train that rolls through town everyday at 3:34.
it comes through, minding its own business,
like it just dont wanna see or talk to anyone.
thats how mr. hudson is too.
he sits behind the grocery store chewing
sunflower seeds until they get all dried up
and they look like hay in his mouth.
atleast i thought they were sunflower seeds...maybe he is chewing hay?
either way, he's a lonely fella.
he might be older than my paps, and thats **** near a hundred.
he wears glasses, work boots, and the same pair a pants every single day.
nobody looks at him,
and i think its a 'cause he wants to be invisible.
i reckon he hates the world...rightly so if ya ask me.
the world aint nothin but a cold, cruel place for a man like mr. hudson.
he dont have no wife, no kids, no job, no home, or no friends to speak of.
growing up, my friends and i always wondered about mr. hudson.
day in and day out, we'd walk past him on the way to school,
tellin ghost stories bout how we knew he musta killed someone...
why else would he be so lonely and sad?
one day, i was walkin by myself near the train tracks.
i could feel it comin, vibrations were ticklin my bare feet on the soft grass.
must be 3:34.
the grocery store was on my left, and i 'spected to see mr. hudson sittin there per usual,
but he wasnt.
up ahead i seen somethin so odd, so unusual, i didnt know what to make of it.
mr. hudson was standin there on the tracks with his arms spread out like some sorta bird,
and that 3:34 train just about plowed right through him.
that was the last time anybody ever saw mr. hudson,
im the only one who knows what happened to him.
i let him go alone, just like he lived his life.
i aint never spoke to him before,
but i bet thats how he wanted it.
 Nov 2014 Ghost Writer
holyoak
i learned a long time ago
that too much pressure
on the strings of the violin
would ruin the melody
but with too little pressure
the music you create
is inaudible
so which is it?
did we come to a shrieking halt?
or could you never hear us at all?

[holyoak]
I took her breath away
not anticipating the consequences,
now she's grasping for air
and we're both helpless.
Love is senseless.
We share the same breathlessness.
What a lovely sentiment.
But too much of a good thing anywhere
can be suffocating,
and your lungs are failing.
So don't fall for me darling,

I'll only let you drown.

[ARH]
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