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M Violante Feb 2012
Puking on a vest made of argyle
Passing out on kitchen tile
A checker board mattress after
Chatting with a girl, whose *** is fantastic
She's hotter than struck matchsticks
Playing chess with her chest
Moves are nothing short of the best
You can pull on 3 leaf clovers
But you can't push your luck
King me, Crown me, Get royally ******
I've got the wood she's got the chuck
How much?
Bedside Manner is enough
But she'd rather talk about being stuck like cassettes
With a useless boyfriend
And a ton of financial debt
Had I mentioned this was turning into a drag
Minus the cigarette  
The size of a rolled telegram and gazette  
Has it become clear yet
I'm not looking at you
I'm looking past you

Like a ghost
It's apparent
I'm into you like a foreign host
It's hard to tell
When the air is hazy
She's blind to the fact
Like her eye is lazy
Choked on words that she never learned to chew
Why don't you call Sherlock, boo
Get yourself a Clue
M Violante Feb 2012
You've been at my neck
Ready to strike at a moments notice
And let's say you did
What color would come rushing out?
Crimson Red?
The color you think it should be
Pure Gold?
Like the heart I wear on my sleeve
Or Jet Black?
Because I've been dead inside,
Only for myself to see
What if nothing came out?
Just a Flesh Wound,
If I was as hallow as the rest of you
What would you do?
Rejoice in Conformity,
Or Cry in Self-Pity?
M Violante Dec 2011
She’s got too many issues
Can’t find the time
To subscribe to mine
Guilty of a crime
They call “loyalty”
But I’ve done far worse
Like take responsibility
And show you my integrity
I suppose that means
The bitter things in life are free
In the time it takes to blink
We bottle up memories
Just to pour them down the sink
No time for cheers
When your
Wise beyond years
Knowing the difference between
Conquering fears
And lending open ears
You were afraid
I was sincere
She said “We’re movin’ too fast”
I said “I’ll throw it in low gear”
But you wanted us in park
Only time to see me after dark
Stuck between chapters with no bookmark
She keeps our worlds apart
A beauty mark
Scars my heart  
You left no answers
Just question marks
M Violante Dec 2011
Your mind, a stubborn child
Thoughts kept single file
So you force a trial size smile
To erase regrets that go on for miles
A struggle to regain power
Your heart, a delicate flower
Beats silent with repose
A passionate rose
Draped in thorn
Truth, naked, as the day you were born
A late bloomer at best
Thick skin
A bullet proof vest
Your words, carefully crafted
A tongue like a clever assassin
Sarcastic responses
A witty subconscious
Day dreaming of white picket
When your in between thoughts on the fence
I’ve put the ball in your court
But *the only game your playing is defense
M Violante Nov 2011
I’ve summed up the equation for my isolation
It's People who look up, look down, left and right
Desperate for information
We never looked inside for much needed inspiration
We lead a life of impulsive behavior mixed with preoccupation for our own reputation
I've lost toleration for the weak minded population
Individual thoughts slowly decay and eventually cut off circulation
Sending thoughts on permanent vacation, worthy of respiration, ideas now suffer suffocation
If this is my "generation"
I’d rather live in hibernation
You can take this as retaliation
I just don’t understand why we seek gratification for having no imagination?
I swear,
It’s like the world around me is nothing more Than telecommunication
Different voices yet the same conversation
Broad interpretation leaves room for destructive *******
Shedding uniqueness for trendy consolidation
Who the **** do you think you are? a star?
You're no constellation
You expel no illumination
Your personality is a narrow cultivation of
Seedy corporation,
Media publication,
And lack of moral stabilization
Let me give you clarification
Meditation is my detonation
Put words in your mouth before you die of starvation
We all have a fixation on giving into temptation
Putting ourselves in situations were
Passion is stimulation,
Trust is manipulation and
Love is *******
Pour out your heartache in perspiration
After ******* we expect a standing ovation
*** is nothing more than sensation
**....are we lost beyond the point of navigation?
M Violante Nov 2011
I confess
My head’s a mess and
Your ways are merciless
I count the seconds
And when it reaches a minute
I will admit
I sent you flowers that turned into hours
Two dozen in a day
Which started to rot
Eventually decay
And crumble into weeks
Of trembling hands and salted cheeks
Multiplied by four makes a month
With more to follow
Of empty nights and broken bottles
Just another wasted year
Another year of getting wasted
You're the only one I see in a crowd of Faces
Let's face it
I could never find a replacement
It's hard to erase this
We write on different pages
But read between the lines
Our hearts are adjacent
Don’t expect me to pretend
All we could be is "friends"
When it's clear
I will love you until the end

— The End —