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 Jul 2011 Kelly Lutz
Pen Lux
we want to be forgiven
      we want to be special
            we want to be fearless
we: is a loose term
             loose change
and as heavy as cat fights.
I saw you today. All I could do was hope
         that you would skin your knees.
walking home: I made sure to keep my eyes open.
 Jul 2011 Kelly Lutz
cohdee
Untitled
 Jul 2011 Kelly Lutz
cohdee
Dreams do come true.
Never as expected,
Except when it comes to you.
Every nightmare you star in,
Ends up becoming reality.

Your face stagnant in my thoughts,
Its making me sick.
In another town,
Frolicking with whomever.  
I can't take it.

Marks on your neck,
words that you speak.
Do You not see how I feel.

Frogs croak, cats meow, spilt milk, not now.
 Jul 2011 Kelly Lutz
BB Tyler
Death saw my progress and smiled.
I try not to shape the darkness behind my eyes, but sometimes those pearly whites
Like tombstones shine under moonlight.

I remember the young dog on the road.
He wasn’t strong enough to support our convenience
And his weakness leaked from his mouth and nose
Adding a savory flare to the grey gravel road.
He was burried under an apple tree
And my tears were taken aback
When I looked up to see
Death
Smiling in an apple blossom.
I still think of you every day.
The ghost of the kiss that haunts my lips,
recalls the words you used to say.

Please don’t tell me it was all a lie,
though the truth is never that hard to conceal.
It’s all gone now,
but I know what we had was real.
 Jun 2011 Kelly Lutz
BB Tyler
Somewhere the sun is rising,
and it's beautiful.
Light let loose
bringing a landscape alive,
uncovering the cradled colors that slept through the night.
A gift of gems.  

You are there
trading breaths with the morning.
The tears on you cheek sing radiant
in the rising fire,
and they lift your chin.

With wet eyes open
you find a world awaiting in a blooming flower,
and with each breath,
still stirring the air,
you fulfill it.

Somewhere the sun is rising
and it's beautiful.
 Jun 2011 Kelly Lutz
BB Tyler
Magic is the unseen.
Magic is Schrodinger's cat.
(or us from the point of view of the cat.)
Magic is the tree in the forest
felled out of earshot.
Magic is the face that everyone makes
when you're not looking.
Magic is peripheral evolution;
the way water boils faster
under the patience of a turned back.
Magic is where the colors go when the sun goes down.
If science is observation,
and art is application,
than magic is both neither and both,
and neither both nor neither.
Magic is the "I don't know."
when someone asks who you are
and all you can think of is your name.
In this way, magic is in everything,
and in some way
we are pieces of everything.
Don't remember to forget,
and next time someone inquires to your identity,
know that any answer you can give is correct
because you can give it.

Or not.
why don't we hold eachother
what is is that makes us hide, we all know what we want
we're starving for affection
it's painful
I just want to hold you
and feel you hold me too

Am I turning on myself?
do you turn because of my actions or your thoughts
why?



I'm so torn inside and it's showing on the outside
I'm killing myself, slowly
not fast enough
there is nothing much to do apart from die when you barley feel

I just pretend like it doesn't hurt
________________________it does________________________
I love myself, I really do, somewhere.
It's hard to find something I have buried but it's ok, I got it.
Everything is ok.
I love it and it's free and beautiful to see that I am really me.
I love to be me and free and open and back to myself again.
It’s really pleasant to feel like I can just be myself again, for no one but me who I love so dearly.
The simplest
and the most beautiful
we are all
art
expressive.
Dissolved, questioning.

It’s beautiful to splatter everywhere
Sometimes.

Colorful and clear.
always there and very
real

but never clear, enough?

You make me smile sometimes
and cry a lot
its beautiful

and colorful
period.

I love it and don't know what love is so its ok for me to sit here wondering why I try to understand nothing that is all constructed by a bad trip staring into the endless reflection of a painted lampshade on the surface....

of a mind. Or shiny thing that reflects.

endlessly.

Can you think of me
as a bridge or sea?
endlessly following you
or surrounding you
never supporting you
only in your
mind?

Your so microscopic and I love it
******* we made this!

I love it all and its ok because no one really made the sea or the bridge that crosses it anyways... it’s all not really there. I wish it was, but it isn't. Because I
Because I
Because I
Because I

feel? Nothing of it.

Now paint me again and rinse me white
coat me with your tender sweat device
it’s called a thought running through my mind
meaning nothing and everything at the same time
wipe me off again because you know I love the paint
more then the white canvas.

It’s brilliantly beautiful, sometimes, especially in the sunlight.
Because man made light doesn't shine just right
It’s so complex and hard to define but not even worth the ******* time
I love it every time I notice that word coming up in my, writing?

It’s all just nothing anyways?
because some of the most beautiful canvases are unpainted
Broken down and undefined
your so much worse
then I thought in my mind
reality hurts
especially at the first look.
Take a taste and never question
weather or not it is food. You passionatly **** at expressing
yourself
and it makes me sick.
Just like the food you give me.
your helplessly asking for help without asking and its annoying to watch you try to talk with your mouth closed.
...and don't even get me started on the word try...
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