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My life is spinning out of control
I don't think I can take it anymore

I live in a shack
It just might brake my back

I have no money
Wish I knew a homie

Every month I get asked do you think about harming yourself
I always answer yes but no plans I'm  really just trying to fool myself

Don't know how long I can keep this charade going on
Why do I keep trying to make everyone think I'm happy like a swan

I'm so depressed I see no future ahead
Maybe I'm just a fool rushing in where no angel likes to tread

Only reason I'm still here is my beautiful children
Should I chill or run

But I wonder how long that'll keep my spirits up
I know it would hurt them if I just erupt

But what if they'd be better off with out me
Not having to worry about me knowing I would be set free

This year will be the first year I'm unable to give my children a wonderful Christmas
I just can't deal with knowing I'm unable to help with their wishes

Every year life just seems to get so much harder
My mind is getting darker

I truly don't know how much longer I can keep fighting the demons away
Everything feels in such disarray

Wonder what tomorrow would be like
Maybe I'll just squeak by and wait
Written by: Denise Huddleston
There's something about her dreamy eyes
That makes you want to be a dreamer
There's something about her soothing tongue
That makes you want to be a preacher
There's something about her lovely smile
That makes you want to be a painter
There's something about her great physique
That makes you want to be a sculptor
There's something about her intellect
That makes you want to be a professor
There's something about her being
That makes you want to be
There's something about her
That makes you want to be her lover
 Feb 2017 Jamie L Cantore
Cali
the trees whisper
rustling, gilded intonations-
spilling secrets like honey
into the productive blue sky.
sunlight lurches through the trees
and cracks my foolish skull,
sending all of the thoughts
I had left alone in there
spilling over the golden
dappled forest floor.

you seep into my periphery,
delicate and half formed
amongst the moss and the earthworms.
I smile at the exoskeletons of
decaying memories;
crawl, crustacean-like,
sifting for something more tender-

dredging up phantom images
that flutter lazily across my eyelashes
and come to rest in greedy palms.
breathless mirth
and incorrigible melancholy
commingle in your shadow
and hold me fast.

you and I live and breathe
in the same stratosphere
and I don't quite know how
to let it go.

I miss you, and the words
twist around my fingers
like a rosary, pausing
at the accidental stutter
of my naked heart.
We both read our scripts,
but we're not on the same page.
You and I are just actors
who treat life as the stage.

We rehearse our lines,
but they're not what we mean,
for once lets break character
and call cut on this scene.

We could steal the show
if we rewrite the play
and end the charade
of this macabre matinee.

We've reached the finale,
there's no encore after all.
This is our shot,
our last curtain call.
I used to go to bed at eight, and wake up at six.

I used to play hopscotch and leapfrog, and believe in magic tricks.

I think I've changed.

It's 2am

The back of my phone is hot

My eyes are burning and tired

My mind is wired

Tick
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