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Wild Nights—Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile—the Winds—
To a Heart in port—
Done with the Compass—
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden—
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor—Tonight—
In Thee!
 Apr 2015 Lauren Cole
1487
useless
 Apr 2015 Lauren Cole
1487
my heart aches for things that have not happened,
will not happen,
and will never happen again.
Stop your slinking to a stoop and your feel sad,
Cut it out.
As you anger and your anguished angst amplifies,
Cut it out.
Fight the ferocious fiery feelings of frustration,
Cut it out.
Push through the pounding pain,
Cut it out.
Take time to tinker with the throbbing troubles,
Cut it out.

Finally, finding all fixes are listed lazy and lost on you,
hindsight hinting your heart's helpless,

there is one thing you can do to help that heart.

*Cut it out
Tiptoeing across my bed, fluffy ribbons and bushels of fuzz,
whispering across my windowsill, fresh crevices , fingernails a buzz,

cotton rows of crimson, creeping through the sheets,
fire crusts my crimson crop, burning at a thousand heats,

Further up above my head, there are workings on the walls,
those were hard to make, they caused cracks, down my fingernails to fall,

All around this tiny room, like tallies for a score,
Down now, we can look to, see the new ones on the floor,

That one is from yesterday, and that one a few more morns,

Waltzing, wiping, crawling, wheezing,
I'm very thirsty now.

Hands feel nice, the dips I made,
in walls, floor, bedpost too,

Scratches here today in wood,
tomorrow made in you.
Written offbeat in order to make it take an uneasy vibe.
Carried like a scent on the wind,
she pulls me along quietly,
no point in fighting, I've lost.
Pushing me forward, to a red end,
love is in the air, force is present, ever so sly,
pushing, wind at my sail, don't land, it is of cost.
It doesn't get better.
It morphs, carves and twists bones and flesh, no end,
wailing and flowing from a cave in the twilight coldly,
cutting, killing, crushing, no stopping the bloodlust,
breathing into & for me, a forced life to lend,
never put to self indulgence, never boldly,
waves bleed port & starboard, tranquility's holocaust,
systematic & brutal, my ink ever wetter.
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