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KM Jones Nov 2011
uninspired by empty beds and unturned sheets


I need bodies pressed against me

suffocating


stimulating




people are much better companions than pillows



lover, come alleviate these lonely nights
KM Jones Nov 2011
don't love me.

**** my brains out.


don't look into my eyes.

don't tell me I'm beautiful.


just wrap your hand around my throat.

knot your fingers in my hair.


don't wrap your arms around me afterwards.


show yourself to the door.

and please, God, don't say goodbye.
KM Jones Oct 2011
serenade me with silence

...

I look for your affections between the lines...

on napkin corners...

in notebooks, worn with age

...

unclothe me to the metronome of your latest rabbit trail

I won't mind if it is meant for someone else

...

love, I'm asking for nothing more than to share your bed

...

play muse, for a night

or two

...

darling, I think I could be poetic for you.
KM Jones Oct 2011
she had cut off her long locks.
left romanticism behind her.

she was getting down to business now.

she had no time for apologies. regrets.
she was blazing a trail- setting new horizons.
-looking for the next America.

(one that could survive longer than 200 years without selling its soul for a buck.)

...

she, herself, was soul-less.
emotion-less.

- a state of existence she might describe as "limbo"
  had she given herself the time to examine it.

she was challenging socrates.
-finding meaning in an unexamined life.

she was in a state of motion in which 80 mph felt like crawling.

she was concluding.
she was beginning.

she was.......................... l i v i n g? again.
- From third person diary entries (March 7, 2011)
KM Jones Oct 2011
I want to see you in the stars
- a constellation in my arms
so close, but still so far
Oh, how beautiful you are
I want to see you in the stars

I want to hold you 'till I die
I want to kiss you 'till I cry
make love throughout the night
throw off the sheets, turn on the lights
I want to hold you 'till I die.

2008
KM Jones Oct 2011
I am a poet
romantic, bittersweet
the   woman   at   the   well
the       tears        on        his      feet
famous      words     of      denial
mud  placed  on  blind  eyes
bittersweet, romantic
A poet am I
KM Jones Oct 2011
Oh love,

we're drowning in the monotony of motionless.

forget food, air, coitus

Maslow forgot something- movement.



not even, relocation.

simple movement.


Oh love,

let's pack a bag- buy a map

I feel like falling asleep to east coast sunsets tonight

waking up to Rocky's



wind through hair

sand between toes


let's fly a kite

ride a bike



*let's move *


seated, we die a thousand times


let's break in a pair of new shoes

to an afternoon hike

pack a picnic basket of pb&j;'s


move, darling, move


until our legs give out

and slumber wraps us sweetly in her arms...

in one another's arms...


somewhere far from where we began



move.



conclusions and origins are separate for a reason


life may have symmetry, love

but let's make sure not to mistake that with stagnation.
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