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James Cavet Jun 13
Tap into the metal -
give them what
they want.
The scars like
lightning across
the sky.
After all that,
it will never
be blue again.
As the colors
change we feel
emotion, intention,
drag along behind
us but we're just
in chains,
aren't we?
Tap into only what
you want - the
taste is worse than
sellout but when
you're drinking from
the chalice, your own
blood is better than
someone else's ****.
James Cavet Jun 12
I feel like I'm
going to write it
someday: the
magic formula that
let's people know
I understand them,
wherever they are.
Whoever they are.
But the stars are
too many.
There's not
enough time.
I can only love one.
James Cavet May 29
People always assume
the worst has happened
when only the birds
are singing.
Nothing else has
slipped in further;
nothing like you.
My aim, if it's
not higher, won't
make any way -
just a flesh wound,
exit wound,
slug, crushed can
but you won't find
more adrenaline
anywhere else,
so look at the sky,
forget you're afraid;
the tilt will create a
perfect space for
my words - salty
in places - maybe
you'll prove it's
not about me:
it's only my opinion;
a lonely grain of sand -
a chip off a diamond
in the desert.
James Cavet May 27
My favorite part
was the mountains
splitting and the rivers
drying up just in time
because the name
of the game is
extreme and what
would you do under
a push?
Feather in my cap;
never gonna finish
that puzzle on
the floor but neither
will you.
As good as good can
be, everyone still
puts in the work,
a multitude of cut-out,
cardboard *******.
I could use a
breath of fresh air in here
but this place is a half built
prison for the content,
the unsure, the weak
and no window
will show me the truth:
it's never nighttime,
the sun is always
shining on my bare
face, probably to
my death so tell me,
who do you love
enough you'll send dead
flowers to?
(Better not be me.)
James Cavet May 25
I learn it through
their hands -
never voice works,
so their sound tells
me.
I learn it from their
mind like tidal waves;
emotion, intention,
ever in to the future
I know what you
will do.
Now I know what to
do, even as you cannot
show me not to.
I can forgive you from
a distance,
but what if it
were not so light and
powerful winds
knocked me down?
A chorus of disappointment
followed by eyes of most
disapproval - not so rare
a stone to find
lying on the ground.
So I keep searching
for slivers of uncut
gems in this network
of caves because
I know you
are me.
I know what you
want me to do.
James Cavet May 25
Little is shy and
reaches through
the blood toward
understanding.
Little means a lot
but is not often
used correctly.
Little doesn't
want a name to
describe only function
but only a name can
describe who does
what and why.
Slowly, a little at
a time, a name
develops in the
pool of life - under
volcanic light and
erupted patches
of darkness.
Little is a snowflake
falling; not one like
another but coasting
on the lines that
run from tip to top.
Alive, not a surprise
then, when a little
goes awry and death
takes over as one
so named.
James Cavet May 24
You're my liquid
pool and I
jump into the
water, looking
for more of you;
floating words
you think about
yourself.
Hard and hateful
blocking my way.
I hold my breath
under here, waiting for
my selfish death to
save me, save you,
but care is a gentle
tide, shallow depths -
not fear and guilt -
emergency.
The sun is
bright today
as a seagull flies
but in the distance,
darkness looms
deep in your heart.
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