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 Apr 2015 Jean Rojas
Love
Time
 Apr 2015 Jean Rojas
Love
He looks happier without her by his side,
He flirts with all the girls he meets,
He doesn't talk to her anymore,
He pretends she doesn't exist

A month later

He glances at her when she isn't looking,
He doesn't understand,
He feels a little lost,
He doesn't fancy the girl by his side

Six months later

He tries to talk to her,
He stopped flirting with all the girls,
He loops his arm around her shoulder,
He doesn't understand why she pushes him away.

A year later

He misses her,
He misses her laugh, smile her words,
He wonders where she is,
All he knows is *She's happy
 Apr 2015 Jean Rojas
Livia
I think I may be
Nyctophilic
Because I love
The darkness

The relaxing nothingness,
Eigengrau flooding my eyes
Releasing me from the world
For a little while

I used to be scared
Of what lurked inside,
But I accepted the dark
As part of me

The dark is good
Just look at the night sky, dark as well
It is mysterious and glorious
And maybe it does have danger

But if you learn to accept
You will find the dark comforting as well
And you may join me in the group of
Nyctophilics; the people who live in the eigengrau
A random poem about darkness
Nyctophilia: finding comfort and relaxation in the dark
Eigengrau: the color black that you see. Pronounced i-jen-grouh
 Apr 2015 Jean Rojas
John Keats
It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be moved for days from whence it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh ye! who have your eye-***** vexed and tired,
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude,
Or fed too much with cloying melody,—
Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood
Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs choired!
It was four o'clock in the morning. Robert wondered why his name was Robert. He decided to get rid of the "Bert" because it was the name of a Sesame Street character or the name of a ******* in Tempe, Arizona. Then again, he thought, "Hey, just Rob makes me sound like I change tires for a living or that I work out at a gym that discriminates fat people and blacks." Rob or Robert took a second to evaluate his last thought and if thinking "and blacks" made him a racist person.

Robert sat on a bench and wondered if the woman beside him was expecting Forest Gump-esque wisdom.

Robert thought of a friend he had in grade eight, named Alexander. He thought of how Alexander had a glass eye. Robert wondered how Alexander had a glass eye but could not remember or did not know why Alexander had a glass eye. Robert, then, concluded that sometimes he will not know something and how that is okay because most people don't know anything--it's a collection of approximates that stay in our heads, he thought. Robert asked himself if his last thought made him intelligent or dumb and pretentious. Robert decided that he did not know. How meta, he thought. Robert, then, decided to stop using the word "meta" so much, because it made him feel like a professor with bitterness and something to prove.

Robert watched his sister struggle with an eating disorder. She was in a hospital bed, with an IV in her arm. Robert did not know if he would struggle with anything as hard as his sister struggled with anorexia. Robert, then, had intense but fleeting anger at every person that bragged about being anorexic or made it seem cool.

Robert sat on his toilet and wondered what his true identity was and what his true nature was. He wondered what was inherent and what was synthetic. Robert, then, wondered if a synthetic personality was inherent. Robert asked himself if he was a good person. He wasn't sure if sitting on the toilet, in his grandmother's house, and ******* to interracial ebony teen ****, on his iPhone, made him a good person or not. His concerns soon past, though, as soon as Lauren started to **** the pizza guy's white ****.

Robert walked down the street and was contemplating some of the issues that plagued his ****-infested mind, while he was on the toilet. Robert saw a girl running from a guy. Robert asked himself if he was a hero or inherently good. Robert, then, concluded that he was inherently a coward, since he did nothing and hoped that somebody else would save her.

Robert didn't meet a girl and knew that no one would write prose about his meeting a girl and their mutual love for one another. Robert was eating a steak sub, while thinking this.

Robert returned to the hospital, to pick up his sister. On the way home, his sister talked about how attractive her nurse was. Robert asked, "What did he look like?" His sister, then, said, "It wasn't a he. My nurse was a girl." Robert was okay with his sister being attracted to girls, but hoped that she didn't get more than him or more attractive girls than him, because, for some reason, that would make him feel insecure. Robert decided to stop eating so many steak subs and to work out. Robert asked his sister if she wanted to get steak subs. She said, "sure".

Robert was working out in his basement. He heard the sound of retching, upstairs. Robert followed the sound of the vomiting and opened a bathroom door. He saw his sister stick her finger down her throat. He said to his sister, "That isn't anorexia." His sister said, "I know. There's a lot you don't know about me." Robert said, "I'm sorry."
Tomorrow,the World Ends
All we have is this very Night
Be vigilant to make amends
Before dawning of Suns first light
Let prayer be ready to send
To God our heartfelt helpless plight
TomoRrow the World Ends
May God help us by His Might

Yesterday,Life had been born
Eternity dwell anew
Death is but by Sound of Horn
To many-yet for few
A Single Rose-multiple thorn
Bestowed upon only you
Yesterday Life had been born
Hope is on Horizons view

Today was and still is
The only given truth
Yesterday I didnt Heed
Tomorrow
Rest in Peace
All you will ever have-is right now
1350

Luck is not chance—
It’s Toil—
Fortune’s expensive smile
Is earned—
The Father of the Mine
Is that old-fashioned Coin
We spurned—
On that day blood flowed like satin,
trickling down your sides.
Life draining, courage waning,
yet you love.

Your back lay bare
vision blurring, heart pulsing,
trails of blood
leading from the cross.

The spear enters your side,
blood and water stream out
pooling at your feet.
Your soul is no longer there.

Rivers of blood flow
quenching the LORD’S rage.
Life no longer living hell
blood lead to liberty.
To honor the this day
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