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Lucas Lowman May 2014
Let's dance
But be warned
I'll step all over your feet
Not on purpose though I swear
Teach me to be better
And maybe
Hopefully
by the end of the night
I'll dance with you
And you can walk without bruises
Lucas Lowman Apr 2014
Waking up in a hazy fog
Regular Sunday Morning
It is Sunday right?

Bits and pieces of last night rushing to the forefront of my mind
but a feeling that there's a missing piece of vital information

aaaaaaand there's a stranger next to me
she's so still!
she's alive
God I hope she's alive
My jeans are still on so we obviously didn't do anything
wait why are my jeans ripped?
Did they come this way?
No they didn't
did they?
my shoes are still on too
well at least one is anyway
where the hell is my other shoe
how does somebody lose one shoe
losing a pair is actually more understandable

I should probably go wash the glitter off my hands
wait why do I have glitter on my hands?

aaaaand I have a black eye
who did I fight?
probably got my *** handed to me
or maybe I beat up an *******!
no probably the former
I can't fight for ****

My head is killing me
part hangover
part concussion

I should probably call somebody
help fill me on what the hell happened last night
Aw **** where the hell is my phone?
wait where the hell is my wallet?!

Well ****... ****** memory, comatose stranger in my bed, ripped jeans (although I'm 73 percent sure they came this way), missing a shoe, glitter hands, black eye, sore head, no phone, and no wallet

I ******* love saturday nights
Lucas Lowman Mar 2014
Let something false fly forth from your lips
For this honesty is getting too brutal for me to bare

Mouthful of venom

There is a twisted beauty amid this wreckage
Where diamond tears are being mined
Leaving a glistening trail of sadness and grief

The voice of an angel
speaking words of malice

I cannot take it
Though you won't have it

This fall is steep and long
It won't be long now until I hit bottom
I will hit it hard
and I will most certainly hit it fast
Lucas Lowman Mar 2014
This City of Sin
full of ****** and thugs
full of rapists and addicts
What one sided deals are being made in the darkened alleyways?

This land of *** and violence
is where Killers and Kings reign
the blood of the weak tinge the black asphalt a deep crimson
No smiles to be found here in this sanctuary of shame

Bruised fists and swollen faces
Broken noses and bullet wounds
Knives stuck between ribs

No prisons or precincts
Only streets and avenues

Lit by a pale moon and low gray clouds
These aren't buildings that litter the city
these are walls of filth
that support this rotting carcass I call home
Lucas Lowman Feb 2014
Do not live a life of have nots and what ifs
Of should haves, could haves, and would haves

A routine life is no life at all
So jump blindly into the void that is the future
And never look back

And with the loudening boom of a million voices scream at the face of uncertainty

Do not doubt us
For we do not doubt ourselves

We will be left smiling
Happy with the chances we took
the pitfalls we jumped
And the mountains we climbed
Lucas Lowman Jan 2014
There is probably some grand ideal I am protecting
what it is I do not care to know

Survived another Year
Amongst the ruin of a stranger's land
With the dusty roads, exuding those waves of heat
A sandstorm blowing in from the east
as a War song echoes in the west

I am Blinded by Rage
Though I am glad I do not see

Throughout this ordeal
The mask of Patriotism has fallen off
But I am truly free here
Far from the Home of the Brave

I stand here with bruised fists
and a battered face
With scars on my back
and a smile that isn't whole
Fighting the Good Fight

I stand here
To express my gratitude to War and Conflict
For Blood is Gold
and I am Ready to Bleed
Lucas Lowman Dec 2013
He kept trying to find the memories
of a world long passed
The fragments have become blurred

The Era before
An Age of Unity

But this world he finds himself in now
is one of isolation

Of what importance are half-forgotten pieces?
That are retained in the shattered walls of a broken man's mind
Of what significance are these recollections of a half-remembered time?
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