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 Jul 2014 Marco Batista
Remus
I pity you.
It's not the pity you would think.
I pity you because you do not know
what you are doing to yourself.

You are clawing on the inside,
your brain is melting into mush.
You are trying to hard to not
burst out crying.

I pity you because you think I still love you.
I do not love anymore,
that was only for seven months.
You do not know when to
let go.

I pity you because you still love me.
Anyone who loves me should be
pitied.
Seeing that I am someone who holds on.
I hold on to things I shouldn't like;
books, movies, people, blankets, and you.
 Jul 2014 Marco Batista
kenzo
Cigarette to her cherry chap stick coated lips again.
She keeps on smoking them saying she doesn't care if she dies, yet she's discreetly afraid of death.
She knows she should probably get off her *** and get a job, but she'd rather listen to the same song over and over and day dream about ******
scenarios.

She'd rather stay up late at night writing and wake up at 3, majority of her day already wasted. Downing coffee and telling herself that she'd wake up
early one day to greet the sun and admire it's beauty but reality devoured her, and she's under her sheets sleeping with her breast pressed against
her cream colored silk sheets.
She fell asleep watching asmr videos, too much of a baby to try astral projection and her window is wide open, bugs with wings flying in her room but yet she doesn't care, she likes the feeling of the cold wind on her legs.
Oh, how she wishes she were in a field somewhere, holding hands with another male or a female that loves her back as much as she loves them. She wishes that whoever loves her would lift up her skirt and lick their fingers after they venture down her legs and inside the blooming flower so many individuals have been trying to deflower.

Rolling naked in the grass, smiling, laughing.
She wants to look deep into someones eyes, not uttering a word, just in silence smiling. She wants to tuck their hair behind their ear, she wants to feel the heat of another person up against her, or the simple pads of anothers fingers cupping her breast. She longs for someone to touch her, yet she's
afraid of being touched. She's afraid of men, she's afraid of many things.

Her picky self thinks she see's the good in people yet they expose their true
colors she were too blind to see. She's so naive. Letting her thoughts unravel her like a Christmas ribbon, placing acid tabs under her tongue, smoking more ****, and drinking too much.
Anything to numb the fact that the ones she desire don't desire her, and the ones that want her she acknowledges, but simply picks up with the pile of clothes on her floor and shoves them in her drawers she keeps telling herself that she'd sort out.
An unorganized, mess.
Her room, her life. Everything.
 Jul 2014 Marco Batista
Kagami
Be
 Jul 2014 Marco Batista
Kagami
Be
Be your own hope.
And find the one that makes it stronger.
Be your own love.
And find the one that makes it romantic.
Be your own light.
And find the one that makes it brighter.
Be your own inspiration.
And find the one that makes it into art.
Be your own determination.
And find the one that makes it happen.

Be your own fight.
And be your own victory.
So dark, so very dark
but I hear a voice
and I can feel a breeze
but I don't know where I am
all I know is that I'm alone surrounded by people

I can hear people calling my name
Since I lost my sight nothing is the same

I didn't just lose my vision, I lost so much more
My independence
my job
my confidence
my self-esteem
I will never get to live my childhood dream

It's hard to only see one color for the rest of time
BLACK
no color, just
BLACK
Someone very close to me
 Mar 2014 Marco Batista
Vivian
mdma
 Mar 2014 Marco Batista
Vivian
he's
tripping, but not
coerced by gravity;
rather a Molotov cocktail of
endorphins lobbed straight at his
prefrontal cortex.
some find this
distasteful,
some find it
deplorable;
god help me,
I find it adorable.
(it's the only time he'll
admit he loves me)
There was a fire in the Northern sky
and I couldn’t dare look away.

Its slow death reigned on me
so innocently that
I then became the king of the Badlands.

The war struck woods.
There they were

Stuck in a solid line -
one by one, body after body;
I followed casually behind.

I watched them come undone
in the flowing current.
It was time for past ground to be reached

so I let them have it.
The ashes rained down
So swiftly that

I had a second to think
about this ground under my feet
It is mine.

My own earth.
No one shall ever take it.
I will die on this land.

As I thought about this peace –

A hand took shape into mine.
I turned to look and there it was,
The blazing flame

In my morning sky.
The solid star shine
Every night. . .

My picture perfect view hadn’t burned out
It was just my eyes that needed adjustment.

Her cool breath woke me every morning
and it's only getting hotter. . .

How about I start one more fire?
 Mar 2014 Marco Batista
1923
if change slips through my fingers, it lingers
in my mind for hours
Meet me at the beginning
For the end has long since past
And I wish that we were happier
That we had a chance to last
So it came to me – deep in a dream
That you were meant for me
If we started over, all would seem
Like new reality
So hi, my name is faithful
And you are meant for me
And we’re meeting here, at the beginning
So we can have a chance to be
Copyright: Mary Nolte
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