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 Apr 2016 Katie
Matthew Harlovic
In existentialism, despair
is often described as a
loss of hope in response
to the breakdown in one or more
of the defining qualities of one's
self or personal identity.
As a verb, hope is perceived
as an expectation of fulfillment
but if I were to hope without expecting
fulfillment, am I the one in despair still?

© Matthew Harlovic
 Apr 2016 Katie
This Guy
tell me
everything

because

i want answers

i
need
an
answer
you don't forget the night, that night
 Apr 2016 Katie
i s a b e l l a
Everyone wonders if you cut
or have suicidal thoughts.
I can still be depressed
and not want to die
or hurt myself.
Everyone wonders if you're sad.
No one ever asks if you're
happy.
 Apr 2016 Katie
VS aka Jason Cole
We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna watch our freedom fly
We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna live now till we die

My heart beats a little faster
Every mile closer to home
My mind don't need a master
I think just fine on my own
The ocean looks much different now
Such a hopeful sight to see
As freedom bells are ringin' now
'Round Sierra Leone

We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna watch our freedom fly
We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna live now till we die

Well, I left half my pride
In those cotton fields
But I found all my spirit
And strengthened my own will
I made it through the sufferage
Never once alone
I trusted in the Father
And he has led me home

We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna watch our freedom fly
We're goin' down to Freetown
Gonna live now till we die
This is a song.
 Apr 2016 Katie
Happynessa
She wondered what it would feel like
To escape the rigid boundaries of words
And speak in the fluid language of art

The chemical pull of the pen was exciting
But the blissful sensation of the brush
May give way to time losing its meaning

Her love of art came from her childhood
Story books when opened meant she
Could fall inside the wonderful illustrations

Years of life and years of passion spent inside
Black and white sketches and drawings
Magical incredible frightening and amazing

She feels the silence between poetry and art
She feels them expand and soften until it seems
Like a giant bubble that holds them both
My knees weaken when I see you

half smiling lips and wine soaked breath

I am still faithful

a shadow, shadow that walks

without body

without a solid shape

I turned to God once, ideally,
my mouth forming prayers I'd saved

for you

muttering malice into the nothingness

etching memories the way they etch gravestones

a black crayon and blank paper,
pressing hard and hoping

that the colours will somehow
bloom into meaning

Godless, knees shaking

a single handshake and I am
crucified
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