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Speak in code
trying to not say
what I mean

Stay inside
I can hear the rain
go away

go online
see what people say
a mistake

my back hurts
I shift in my seat
it still hurts

energy within
bright face looking back at me
turn off the TV

It is dark
I should go outside
I am out

smells like ****
the smell of the air
grow from ****

side by side
suburban living
the lifestyle

what is there
under that building
I don't care

chest rattles
kick out the arches
move forward

strong tree branch
my prismatic friend
please don't break

crawl on me
I can feel your legs
treat me well

tree to tree
a slaughter of twigs
the kings loom

sit on the hard ground
uncomfortable and longing
this is all I get
Time to love life with all your heart
Let your eyes feel the day's mind turn to night
Things left to find beyond a long lost light
People's souls reflect the face of pain
Lost thoughts in a good head
keep smiling inside for the sun
with hands in a place that can hold hope
but wishing that the hand might fall
as man's body leaves to live
and beautiful dark sin can hear the thoughts
as cold tears fall hard from the broken sky

And you will ask me, Why?
What am I doing?

Some will say nothing
Most will say nothing
Even sometimes I say nothing

What am I to do?

Some will say something
Most will say something

I still say nothing
Do I care if someone reads this?
Just a few words that I put together one night.
A blog wrapped in a medium of stone age art.
I spend my life building these structures,
semi representation of my underlying self
replicating a random style, theme, and form.

All this time of study on how to find rhyme,
interlocked with philosophical quandaries
and a self-reflection of my psychological state.
Winding out long hidden feelings, sending it all out,
like yelling out the window to see who actually turns.

Though, do I shout loud enough,
or do I prefer whispering to myself?
I wonder if I care if nobody reads this.
We come into life, and leave it alone for a reason,
our whole being is to be trapped behind our outward gaze.
Madness is external, so is our precious vanity.
Nobody cares, and everybody is a nobody,
So who does?

If my eyes are the last to see these words,
I ask what that means to me.
I put this out to be read,
but if it’s not
do I care?
His story is boring and long,
full of contradictors, who played
little to no purpose

The ending, oh that ending
predictable, and again, had
little to no purpose

I am… I am… A failure
He said

Never saw him again
but that tall tale he told
stays with me
no matter how bad
She sat alone with the child of her true love. A true love that will never love her back. Her eyes lift heavy with tears to a reflection of herself on the wall. Pain that only she can see, and only through a lens of tears.

Tired of her selfish view, her eyes tried to focus away from the broken face of emptiness, to focus on a picture of her love smiling beside her. His face frozen with a smile and eyes glimmering in perfect joy of the moment.

With a blink and wipe of her wrist, her eyes focused again to the image of a young girl crying on the ground. Feeling lost within life and herself, having to guide the last remainder of her love to a hopeful life to one unlike her own. She looks back at the photo that is gently placed in the plastic frame, at the photo of a man that had taken her spirit. With the face he will have forever.

And in the corner of her eye, sitting broken on the floor, a reflection of the face she too will have forever.
Justan Rahming Oct 2018
I witness the memories that I no longer have
refreshed new with refracted eye
youth be revisited, I fall in love again
frame after enamored frame
I recall upon your archaic name
filling the room with quantum spirits
lives together in symbiotic dreams
And for one moment, I am alive
over and over again
I find myself
and I am with you
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