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I cross my heart.
I hope to die.
I'll stick that needle in my eye.
My love for you, I hope to find.
And to this promise, I shall bind,
My heart, my soul, myself and all.
From the start of winter,
till the end of fall.
And if it turns my love is nay,
I'll stick that needle in my eye.
Slashing, swallowing tongues of fire

Igniting his own funeral pyre

The soldier stumbles, heartstrings rent

From his gun’s chamber, bullets spent

Haggard and ruined, he cries surrender

Welcoming death as his soul’s avenger

Faltering, crumbling, face to the earth

He closes his eyes and accepts his unbirth
The Oasis In My Parched Soul,
Is Really Starting To Run Dry,
I Feel No More Inspiration,
And I Can't Help To Wonder Why,
Slowly The Desert Plants Wither,
As Thirsty Birds No Longer Fly,
Only Arid Heat Leaves My Lungs,
Where Have My Beautiful Words Gone?
Oasis Of Inspiration... I Have Been Feeling Ill Due To A Nasty Case Of Writers Block... I Feel Like I Am Slowly Breaking Free:)
The night we first met, you barely looked at me.
Your brother and mine, your friends and mine.
We got rowdy. We drank and played games.
You said I was cute, so I gave you my number.
We talked on the phone every night.
You sang to me as you walked your town.
Then you moved to mine.

I was taking a class, and you were taking a break
from the drugs and the *****, from your old life.
I'd daydream of coming home to you every day,
of your curly, blond hair and the way you looked at me
through your muddy eyes.
You held me in bed and I'd sleep in your arms, unlike any other.
You said it was crazy that I didn't think I was beautiful.
Than you talked to her.

I learned that she still loved you, why wouldn't she, I thought,
and you would go back to her, even though you said you didn't love her.
I said you used that word too much, love,
you should only say it when you really mean it, to not take it lightly.
Shrugging, you said you loved every girl you'd slept with, except me.
Then I ran.

I tried to date others, but always compared them to you.
His eyes are too dark. His hands aren't skinny enough.
He is too tall and his hair isn't curly enough.
I tried to be friends with you, hating her.
I heard that you got in a fight with her and she left, for good.
Then you messaged me.

You were done with her and you were lonely.
I went to you. We drank and watched sitcoms.
Having to adjust the antenna every few minutes.
I took your clothes off, then you took off mine,
and we reverted to how we were before.
Then you hugged me.

Weeks later, I'd given up on you.
I was wearing pajamas fit for three of me, hair on top of my head,
and no make up, when you knocked on my door. I invited you in.
Sitting on my bed, you fought for my attention.
Trying to leave the room, you pulled me into your lap. I finally gave in.
I gave you what was left of me, and you barely looked at me.
This is the first draft, please help with ideas on editing.
he read
her name
means warrior

in fact

five feet
a picket line
because she hates the hate

they love so much
stronger than him
she never lets him feel that

she knows
he doubts himself
she tries to doubt
but can't
she is too busy
trying to make the world

he too is busy
making it all wrong
but she never loses

touch her
savant memory
hearing her living
in the echoes

her laughter
for the deepest

she falls around sunset
to rest in
of the next battle


my name is unannounced

but i come hearing a sweet beat for you

and it flows like




specifically the green kind

but that’s too far off topic to matter

to us so




by sitting in an armchair

imagining the world to come

though it looks so




you'll be pleasantly surprised

to find the glass can never be too full


even though we settle too soon


love it for three weeks

and then rename it

to forget how




it really is inside

but the puppy’s made of painted glass


of life i’ve wondered

what we want

while it certainly is challenging

there must be more than what it seems


lets examine

our lives when we were kids

we find bruises scrapes and cuts

and your goldfish Tim

he likes to swim in circles cause the world's too big

but he only swims clockwise cause he’s missing a fin


now he


speeds up


grows legs


takes form


and he


gets lost


plays God


gets born


but he loses sight of clarity

and succumbs to the apathy

of time in all its brevity

at every opportunity to




to the Jell-O whose convictions seem far less firm

as they softly fall on flowers wearing    f r e s h   s n o w




i’ll be missing you for years to come

on lets go fishing we might catch us something *******’


why don’t we just pretend everything is fine


why don’t

we just take a number

get in line


why don’t

we search for truth inside our blackest lies


how else

to lend true purpose to these fading lives
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