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It's hanging over me like a hammer
I'm just waiting for it to come down
But still I can't stop
It is the truth after all
But the truth doesn't always set you free
No, maybe some people
But never me
I wait everyday for that hammer
But I can never stop
I will never live
Or die
On my knees
I just know
Someday
I'm gonna get the truth
Hammered outta me
Your life summed up
In garbage bags
One full of your
Personal things
A snapshot of your life
That no one wants
The end of the life
Of a thief
Broken and alone
But you stole more than money from me
You stole friendship
And companionship
You stole the breaking of bread
And trust
And care and compassion
You stole things that I can't get back
Things that I will never place so easily
In someones hand again
But it doesn't matter to you now
Not that it ever did
Now that you are dead
I don't really think I need a note.
 Apr 2014 Kelly O'hara
Day
I want cheesey garlic bread!
alas, it's all that's in my head-
and if lactose I could tolerate,
this might not be such a debate.

though I'm sure my body could conform,
but it's taken this long to reform!
from the **** and mucus that is dairy,
that will surely turn your knuckles hairy.

I'll eat a piece of gluten toast,
for it only makes my tummy bloat,
but from cheese I must stay far away,
unless I want my **** to spray.

it's a sign, I think, that my body rejects
such a harmful product, my body protects
but god ****** I want garlic bread,
the cheesey kind, it's in my head...
 Apr 2014 Kelly O'hara
Day
I remember losing something,
but I don't have a clue anymore and I'm not
afraid anymore
because I've had a little too much to drink
and I'm sleeping in my car

I've got to return all these toys to the kids today,
rid myself of these accumulative ways
that have gotten in the way
of my body that can't escape from the
ties that I've
tethered to my toes

I remember finding a place while
looking for a friend;
the impending sun was looking for us, too
but instead of my friend a stranger emerged
and followed me back to where I came from

back to the bar that we've spent so many nights
of not remembering all the laughs
and the fights; we eat like kings,
and we sing,
and we're not afraid anymore

I wander in this old bar, like I've never
seen it before
and there's a doorway I'm sure
was never there before so I reach for the handle
and open swings the door
and the most beautiful light:
I've never seen a one shine quite as bright.

she's bathing, free as the stars themselves,
so I uncover my self
and I sit in the water with her but we don't talk,
we just smile,
and we don't kiss,
but she touches my arm and we're in love

expecting eyes peer from windows
and a slit in the door
we've decided to leave open
because there's nothing more beautiful
than being here, every laugh line,
every scar exposed

there's nothing more beautiful than
bathing in love
where every laugh line and scar is exposed


I forgot about remembering that
I've lost something,
the delivery man is here to return it
but I can't find him, either
so I dance a little bit, I sit outside
and hope he never finds me.
Rejection is hard, rejection is tough,
Rejection has a way of making you feel like
You’re just not enough
If someone doesn’t want you
Don’t feel second rate
Because inside of us all
Lies something great
Pretentiousness drenches us like an insecure rain
Hiding our lack of intelligence, our dull wit, our bland ordinariness
That suggests we're nothing but grain
In a bronze field of millions of other strands, the same.
That try so hard to understand, but do not retain.
Moving back and forth in the wind from another field
Better than us, but we arrogantly refuse to see, let alone yield.

Reading Ulysses, Dylan Thomas, Catcher in the Rye
Used to be different and genius, but everyone made it so dry
With their 'brilliant' interpretations, or contrived relation
Claiming themselves as the people the pages always cried.
They degraded works that used to give those genuine elation.
There is nothing as sad as watching words disintegrate into a lie.
And there's nothing as disgusting than those who swallow the ink
Regurgitating the letters into what they try to believe is their natural drink

— The End —