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 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Shaqui Scott
Perception, keep it far from me it means nothing…
The chemical imbalance…
distorts, rearranges, changes, and manipulates what’s real.
What’s reality?
Sleep, slumber my long lost friend, we once spent countless nights journeying the deep depths of my conscience and subconscious mind,
to places of pure ecstasy
Now we meet only when the black outs come
I guess there aren’t dreams when you die.
Inhalation,
I take in more death.
I dig deeper into nothing to try and find something.
Nothing is all I find,
empty,
blank,
ran out
there is something there
the white canvas is blank,
but I see…
I touch enlightenment as I soar through space,
my white canvas has become stars,
planets,
suns…
Life is all perception
keep perception far from me it means nothing
just pass me the death. Inhalation.
The sweet death fills my lungs, and takes hold of my soul.


My perception is a layer of my intelligence.
I can cease to perceive and still exist.
I hear vibrations at moving frequencies that can not be quantified,
I visualize images that can’t be personified,
I smell the aura and aroma of pure existence,
I feel the texture of objects beneath my flesh,
and I taste life on the tip of my tongue,
the taste of loss,
pain,
love,
hatred,
peace, and enlightenment.
I am living, but I am dead. Inhalation. I breathe in death.
I breathe it all the way to my soul.
My body shutters.
Time fades in and out.
I no longer perceive I only exist.
Like a cradle in which we
Are born, ever so fickle and
Nature never easy to pinpoint. Thoughts of a
Gargantuan proportion categorized
Under a spectrum of grammar
And syntax. Can you ever really
Get the emotion in devotion, or is
Every sentence just another incomplete expression of 'heart'?

It beats. It lives.
Simply as Y-O-U or I. Our unscrupulous baby.

Lazily, even the speaker of this (un)natural
Isolation of symbols and syllables can but
Frivolously transcribe with childish fervor
Every glimpse of wonder that appears before his mind.
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Alexis Martin
one of my favorite places in the world
is a beach made entirely of glass
each little piece of color was once a broken story
sharp and jagged, it could cut open veins with ease
but the sea was patient with the shards
spent time polishing and softening their edges
until their true beauty was revealed
-
(you are the waves
I am the glass
you make me beautiful)
A wreck between the brittle pages, highlights surrounding the worst of me, all you can see
Page by page you skip, context clues hidden in the blur of the pages you flip, repeat
Written in secret code, you cannot decipher the honesty, writhing between ink you cannot see
Another chapter, another phase, whisked away in a horrid haze
Another typewriter that runs out of ink, no replacements to use, tear at the pages you continue to abuse
Asphyxiate sleeping while attempting to read the ******, breath caught in lungs, the bell has been rung
The ending nears, silence never ceases, look past everything, you're gone, deceased
Recall the heavy breaths resting between each paragraph, neglected, the mood you reflected
I reside on the dusty shelf, burned down in the fire, arson your burning desire
Crumple every inch, frayed beyond repair, you have no care
Leave the words to writhe in place, a mess to forget, a person to regret
 Dec 2013 Jay Esse
Tammy M Darby
Pausing for a reaction
A hateful acknowledgement of my actions
Jangling your nerves
For each and every infraction


I push the buttons
To a dangerous ledge
Forcing you closer and closer
To the cliff's edge
Happily for filling to my death a pledge

I push the buttons
Comes a loving embrace
Then retrieve from my memory
Thoughts better erased
The time in my life
Sequence of events
They gave way to my now favorite pastime

I push the buttons
A puppet helpless you will dance
Never again allowed the chance
To have a life without the shadow of a cloud

Forever
Prodding and poking
I shall never cease
The humming of my plastic keys
Enlightening those
Who cannot believe
What lies on the other side
There will be no peace
My appetite  for revenge will never be filled
So I push the buttons



This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S517(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby

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