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 Sep 2014 kenye
aphrodite
You find yourself so bored out of your mind,
that it becomes amusing to drive others out of theirs

Good girls will leave their heart at your doorstep
and days later, you'll have the pieces scattered around your bedroom

Your old drug of choice just doesn't seem to cut it any more,
but manipulation has never felt more addicting.

Make them say your name, make them tell you they love you
Keep that memory alive when you stop returning their calls
and when your words have cut deep enough, don't flinch when you see your mother cry for the first time
and don't think twice when you know that you're the reason why

Where did your feelings go?
You see how red your anger can be,
but do you remember what shade remorse is?

You prey on the people that love you most and run them dry
You feed off of their hope that maybe you'll change.
But you don't entertain the thought of love anymore
and you'll never see that people are not just another notch in your belt.
Heard something that provoked this thought.
What do you think?
**
 Sep 2014 kenye
e
I shadow boxed my demons
  busted knuckles and bloodied grin
and these hands I cried rivers into
  have all but dried,
I argued every point
  till I was empty inside
a shadow within myself
  but I won't fight a losing battle
just to prove that love does exist
  I learnt to live
and she was the girl
  who learnt to leave.
 Sep 2014 kenye
bucky
me
 Sep 2014 kenye
bucky
me
gay gay gay gay gay
gay gay gay gay gay gay gay
gay gay gay gay gay
have a nice gay
 Sep 2014 kenye
Tim Eichhorn
With regards to Thomas Sayers Ellis*

Look at the
    Lucent lava lamps,
Dark craters
    Hiring hands.
We walked,
    Mimicking magma.
Hot, why is
    This heat?
Forget Vulcan
    And his illusion
Of kaleidoscopes,
    A rip tide
On the shore
    Of our conscious minds.
We held fire,
    Pretending to swim
Underground,
    But only out
Of pure respect.
    Some had boots
Made with
    The clippings
Of funky tripwire,
    Others wore suits
With goggles
    Clamped to their faces,
Gripping like
    Bay Area earthquakes.
One-by-one,
    Jang-strangs were
Attached to us and
    Hurled into the Pit
With rhythmic rituals,
    Waves of S and P
Flailed away
    Like flags.
One nation
    Under a new.
No one looked away
    From the fiery daze.
No one wept.
 Aug 2014 kenye
Megan Grace
you  liked   t h e
way  i   pronounced
"bloodflood,"  all  clean
syllables,  made  me  say
it­ three times for you while
you ate  your  sandwich.  you
said you mostly  mumbled  and
thought no one could understand
you but, god, i did. every eyebrow
wiggle had a  paragraph  beneathe
its surface, every smile was a  song
you   hadn't    written    yet,   every
thumb  stroked  on my cheek was
a promise of forever. you always
made   perfect   sense   to   me.
every time someone likes my poem "Wednesday" it reminds me of the day that i wrote it
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