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Lo
(^^^^^^^^^^)
---------
///      ||
      •
<>

From out the eternity here I am for you

////

The purity

Of heart and soul and mind

Whatever --- Compassion -- means

I mean
---

What is it you really want ?

///

We simply cry too much you know

///

In the naked raw hours

In the busted dream

In the fiery omission from-- the Story

being written -- all sense of our humanity

••

You don't have to try to **** god anymore

After all ---- he's already dead

( isn't be ? )

//

We walk we talk we skip around and play

///

From the depths of eternity

I come for you

Anyone who wants me can find me

Purity

Of

Body
heart soul and mind
 Jul 2014 jo forstrom
paper boats
Where our thoughts end.
Can you imagine it?
A place beyond which there is nothing.
Can you fathom,
Can you fathom, what you can't think.
Will you try?
That notion, that idea,
Of an end.
A false wonderland,
We can not see.
Where infinity ends.
Where I fall of the edge.
Where no one can catch us.
*..........none of us..............
A poem based on a quasi psychological and philosophical theorem I thought up while talking to a friend.

Our thoughts must end somewhere......for we can not think out of the box, since in the end, we can not think what we can not think....if we are thinking it....it isnt outside the box....if we want to think outside the box....we cant......only when you cease to think...does the box dissolve.....granting us....*nirvana*
 Jul 2014 jo forstrom
paper boats
We were never meant to be.
The poetry I wrote,
**You didn't read.
 Jul 2014 jo forstrom
paper boats
When I met tragedy
She was beautiful
Like bleeding wrists
And dead daydreams

When I met tragedy
I fell in love
Her watery eyes
Her blue lips

But Soon,
She faded,
A sinking ship
A full moon
A rose's thorns in bloom

Gone was my apathy
...When I met tragedy...
If not for tragedy's sacrifice............how would you know what happiness is?
 Jul 2014 jo forstrom
paper boats
I haven't written in a while,
Nothing worth calling poetry.
I haven't thought in awhile,
Nothing worth calling thoughts.....
Stop questioning life, it will drive you insane.
 Jul 2014 jo forstrom
paper boats
If i were to write drunk poetry,
You would call me foolish,
But my words dont lie,
they flow,
Like a river,
which knows no end
and a few rocks
which hit you,
like they hit me
but they mean no harm,
so let them be
i walk through
a sea of fire
but it doesnt burn me
whats the use
i wont scream
So it passes by,
and i stand still
burning with out burning
in my fiery dreams
Never answer questions about yourself when drunk, you'll find out things you don't want to know.
 Jun 2014 jo forstrom
Natalie R
Sudden
Abrupt
Unexpected
These words describe a sensation
A sensation that fashions the soul
Molding, sculpting
The person I am today

Hyperventilation
Nausea
A sudden rush
Adrenalin
Slamming doors
Crowded, congested
Populously packed into a box
Air tight

Repetitiveness is a quality this one sensation possesses
Repeating
Over and over
Repeating

Fearing it
Fearing it's repetitiveness
Repeating all over again
Preventing me
From opportunities
Simple, basic, opportunities
While I'm still stuck
In the box
That populously packed box
All alone

Shouting
Till my larynx  
Rip and tears
But I'm left
Abandoned
With no response

This sensation
The panic
Has no end
I wonder how it feels..
To be on the other end of the gun
I wonder how it feels..
To be one the other end of ******
I wonder how it feels..
To be on the other end of true love
I wonder how it feels..
To be on the other end of a break
I wonder how it feels..
To be on the other end of the poem
I could light a fire
to the things
I've grown tired of and leave,
of no commitment,
regret,
nor need.
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