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 Nov 2015 hollowings
Viseract
I may seem heartless sometimes
But that's only on the outside
In my heart, in my mind
I'm still a boy inside

Whilst I may look like a man,
(What the hell, I'm tall enough)
And seem inhumane as anything
Getting through the day can be tough

Names yelled out at me
But I sweep it aside, mouth shut, no talk
What I didn't say is it collects,
Litter on the sidewalk

I may look the part
And act the part as well,
But in all honesty,
My mind isn't free
And on these insults I dwell
Another poem about myself. God, I am so self-centred (insert sarcasm here)
 Nov 2015 hollowings
L
listen, there's a fire deep inside the places so unknown
where the orphans and the rejects found a place to call their home
and it's crumbling to the ground
watch now, loners and their lovers must avoid the flames below
while they hold their breath and hands and disappear into the smoke
and they're fading quick, like ghosts
nothing looks the way it should and footprints trail across the street
dragging soot and ash and sorrow on the bottoms of their feet
someone smells of gasoline

there's a flood within the mothership and no one inside swims
noses struggle and make bubbles and their lungs can't seem to win
water overwhelms and drowns
memories of a brighter moment thrown aside by crashing waves
someone used to love the ocean and the salty sunny days
oh my, how things have changed

nothing was the same

you look down at your hands and notice drops of gasoline
you'd think the smell would wash away like water you released
your home was trying to grow legs and longed to finally be free
your only happy healthy hideaway was so far out of reach

you had no choice
but to **** and drown and hurt
you had no choice
you watched the home you just built burn

something about destruction pulls you close and draws you in
losing everything you've known before it leaves just means you win
nothing's changed, you've always been this way
lighting matches, digging your own shallow grave
Leaving isn’t equals to loved
It may mean space
Or maybe time
Or just finding one self

Leaving doesn’t mean for good
It maybe for a fleeting second
It maybe for a day, a month or a year
Or when destiny makes its way

Leaving may not be defined as going away
Maybe it’s just the forlorn look
Or maybe just the begging words
Or just maybe the chasing that should be done after.
A part of a three poem collection, Melancholy.
Just another day
Same as the last
She knew nothing else
Only to feel pain

She belonged to him
There was no escape
Did all he asked
Never said no

How nobody saw
Those blackened eyes
The darkest of bruises
She never knew

He was older
To this young woman
Forced to find respect
Of a husband she hated

Never to bear a child
Because of the damage
The kicks he gave her
Did to her body inside

Knew if she escaped
He would track her down
Cut her beautiful face
Make her suffer in time

Too scared to tell
For would anyone listen
Who would help her
When he was her owner

So she continues to serve
Keeping it all in silence
Never to know real love
Always a slave to fear
Copyright © Chris Smith 2012
 Sep 2015 hollowings
Danny Kehoe
Seconds feel like minutes
Minutes just like days
Night the hardest time of day
As 4am knows all my secrets

I envy those who sleep easy
Their brains must be that much clearer, less muddled
So that those thoughts that haunt me late at night
Are kept well away from their own night's rest

Sleep such a luxury
One I can not afford
As dawn comes all the closer
No second of sleep to count

All I have to show for this night
Are worries resting deep, deep in my head
 Sep 2015 hollowings
Delilah
losing love and feeling numb
she is strung through the trees
and i am at the bottom of a bottle

he will hold your hands
and i will brush your hair
when there is nothing good to say

we will weep with you
every night you need to
until numb is the new norm

august and everything after
will never be the same
because she died
and the leaves are racing to catch up

book bindings unwind
down all four  of our spines
and dormitory air is only good for nosebleeds

if i could sleep around a fire
with my best friends
every night i would

because even if we cant see the stars
we each have faith that they are still there
i miss cherry blossoms
and that time of the year
where life seems
to sprout from my ears
i miss waves

and most of all
i miss you
Cigarettes are expensive
but I need a reason
to stand outside of parties
and avoid
interaction.
the river flows into
the night,
stars parade,
ghosts of the air
chant strange songs,
the flowers once
spellbound
close with the breath
of the moon,
floating
i am a ghost too.
written on sunday
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