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You.                                 you
Even on the edge
of sleep
of death
of dawn
a knife
You are the thought that keeps me.
I stare at the ceiling
and you are the thought that makes me get up,
the thought of seeing you again

When I wish it was over because
I just can't be alone anymore
thinking of you puts the knife
rope
pills
back on the table
I can't do that without seeing your face
your smile
one
       last
                time
                                              before I sink to the soft black night for forever
You are my dreams
my heart
you
are the reason
I am here
 May 2015 Jack Thompson
Madeysin
I look at the cracked screen, blistered. Shards ripped, fell into the earth. Glass on my hands, glass in the dirt. Glass in my feet, it doesn't really hurt. Glass in my brain, not fully comprehending what I've just done. Grounded for life, & one broken phone. I'll pay for it to be fixed, I pay for it anyway. But what I pay for most, is the lack of responsibilty. Please lecture on, about my carelessness.
Twas an accident i swear
Sometimes, I just want to sit and write
Or read and play
My guitar all night
Sometimes, I want to run outside
Or speak and say
The words on my mind
Sometimes, I want to bathe and sing
To the beat of the flame
As it's flickering

But through everything
I want to learn
and be
in wonder of the world
as it's rotating
 May 2015 Jack Thompson
Triiniity
They said time flies,
that a moment will fall through your palms like sand
If it's so fast we can't see it with our eyes,
how do I react to a pill this size and
move my hands to guard against
my throat opening;
my hands are closing in.
Reality won't be the death of me,
I'll die awake but dreaming
in a fantasy
 May 2015 Jack Thompson
rey
all that you are is the last bits of hope-
the ones to blame in times of despair,
endorphin sprinkled on a void
uncontrollable glitches on a perfection

clenched teeth,
sweaty palms
high-pitched voice,
monotone talks

all you hear is untried wishes
and throwaway dreams
fresh regrets,
and cosmic what if's

all that you are is my last bits of hope
and this is a love like hospital prayers
colorful paint
on a blue canvas

    runs
    down
    in
   strings

crossing borders
   & languages
flowing into hearts
   & minds

   slowly
      at ease

the bottom end
   of the canvas
   is not
   the end
of the message
          *
          *
          
Inspired by a computer graphic of Maria Luisa Grimani
Seven has an entirety about it,
a hidden wholesome within its meaning -
days, story-telling, sins and the word of Him.
The number beholding something greater
that can truly be perceived.

Seven has another meaning, a secret
only known by me -
the age when my home was broken,
the times that he hit me,
before the beating came to a stop.

There a seven pieces of me
which make me whole.
Not horcruxes, but physical segments.

My past and present,
the writer and the fighter,
the dream-daughter and the friend,
seven being the demon,
to which all the others attend.
 May 2015 Jack Thompson
Sabrina
Sometimes I get this feeling.
This feeling does not really have a name.
It is in the middle of my chest.
It is like my emotions are a rope.
The rope is strangling my heart.
It feels like it is about to explode
but it never does
It constricts my breathing and slows my thoughts
It almost hurts
Whenever I think of you
this feeling follows
All I want is for this feeling to go away
but at the same time
I need it
It reminds me I am alive.
This isn't really a poem, but more of an insight to the crazy thoughts I get at night.
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