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Oct 2012 · 502
Counting how we used to be.
1...2...3...4
I cant decide which I like best
1..2.....3..4
No I can't decide at all
1....2..3..4
They're all so good
1..2..3....4
All so simple all so easy
1..2..3..4.....
How long have I been here?
Oh I've lost track with
1..2..3..4..
Counting how we used to be.
Now I want back,
Back from 10.
Back from the brink.
On to lift off.
Send me into outer space.
How long would that take?
Oct 2012 · 522
Metal Mouth
And the metal mouth fell for the bottle-blonde,
Because neither of them could have the real thing.
No one asked,
So the real thing walked on by.
And it's too bad,
Because your face makes me dream.
Not your real face,
Just the one they've straightened for you.
Just the one I've dreamed up for you.
Pieced together from broken nights,
Puzzled out.
I want to tell you something,
I want you to know it all.
Not the real you,
The one I see in my head.
Please remember my name.
Don't try to forget.
Please think of it and laugh.
If my name could make you smile,
I would run all the miles
To your front door,
Just to meet a face I'd never seen before.
I would run to the real thing.
I would reach there before I knew,
And pretend my dreams of you were true.
Oct 2012 · 1.3k
For Gatsby, The Great
Why do I stand here so long?
Why do I stand here and wonder,
About wanderers and things,
and About what I'm hiding under.
Waiting long into morning hours,
For just a sign.
For the spurting of a flower.
Voices think they call me in,
but They really wave me on.
Yet still I stand here,
Waiting for her,
Waiting to fall in love again-Within the hour.
And I cannot take the first step,
I cannot leave the gate.
I cannot even shift my weight-
Without her.
So I stand here and stare-At her.
Though she's never there.
I'm really just watching over nothing in the night.
and I'm really just standing here, losing the fight .
Oct 2012 · 731
My Veteran
Bury me in true green pastures,
Safely down below.
Serenade me in my deepest sleep,
For I lay where only sound can go.
Keep me after,
Where the silence lingers,
Shielding all our ears.
Clutch my flag between your fingers,
My last gift to you.
Stand above my white crossed grave,
To live another day,
Where you belong,
Where I have fought for you to stay.
Now turn and walk away.
Leave me with the men who quelled our country's fears.
For I did not die on fields of poppy,
Nor on foreign sandy beaches.
I could not fall beside my comrades at the hand of any King,
Nor fight amongst my brothers for equal things.
So leave me where I've earned my keep,
In fields of forest green.
Where more will come to sleep someday,
From war in lands unseen.
For I could not die in battle,
Instead I lived long after
Met many people
And filled their lives with laughter.
Dec 2011 · 1.4k
Hairline Fracture
Got a heart with a hairline fracture, every beat making it break faster.
Pain spreading like a growing vine,
pulling like the string around my heart, twine.

Got a brain with a minor clot,
that can only be solved with a single shot.
Pain pushing like an unborn child,
working it's way through the system,
making me wild.

Got a hand with arthritis,
means I don't have the touch of gold like King Midas.
Pain aching like an old widow's heart,
never mending, completely sharp.

Got a life that's all messed up,
like the remnants of a shattered cup.
Pain stepping like a high heeled girl,
thinking she owns the world.

With all these things I still manage to have you,
a love with bipolar disorder.
Another thing ripping through my aorta.
Pain scolding like hot oil does the flesh,
how'd everything become such a mess?

Doctor's give me a week to live,
as I think of people to forgive.
Guilt springing up like a daisy bed,
something in need of weeding before I'm dead.

Faces flashing in and out,
my mind a flowing spout.
Drifting off to sleep, to faint clicks,
the sound of your heels in my mind just sticks.
Waking up to your face,
put my heart in a strange place.

When I received the sorrowful news,
all I could think of was telling you.
You, who changes your mind twice as often as the seasons,
for which you give very few reasons.

Love expanding like my last breath,
consumed with you and with my death.
Sensing your words as I fade away,
begging me to please stay.
Dec 2011 · 653
Learning the Waltz
Should it matter how you feel?
Because this is my world.
In my head, nothing is that big of a deal.
Tears may run down your cheeks,
but blood runs through my veins.
"It may be warm, but your heart is cold," you say,
"Everything you do is bleak."
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
Should it matter what you've said?
Because all I know are my own words.
I shut out all else, after "It's over, we're dead."
Rain may fall where you stand, but lightening struck me.
Everything is fried inside my head.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
Should it matter what you've done?
Holding your secrets after you've walked
pulled the trigger on the gun.
Forced to step when you step, learning the waltz.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
It all feels so false.
Like the master puppeteer,
my words in and out of every ear.
Should it matter that you've apologized?
Those words you said, I don't trust.
I see through your eyes.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
My hand finally released from your palm,
stomach freed, heart suddenly calm,
I walk straight from now on.
My spin is now my call.
Left turn, right turn, whisk.
We were there, now we're here, and that is all.

— The End —