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 Sep 2012 Meagan Marie
Amber S
venom
 Sep 2012 Meagan Marie
Amber S
i taste venom. bitter.
tongue is dry, cracked.
licking my lips, but the taste is there. in between my teeth,
lodged into my throat.
i want you to taste this, too.
my thirst that can never be satisfied. you have no idea,
do you?
you lie, and your blood reeks of it.
to spit it back, watch it burn.
a luminescence with no sense.
you'll only return what's mine, the bitter will never leave.
instead it will sit comfortably, warmly
in the pit of stomach,
waiting, like a sleeping dragon, to be disturbed
once more.
 Sep 2012 Meagan Marie
Gypsy Noel
where broken souls gather-
where hollowed hearts meet-
where happiness is evanescent,
their demons will make their greet

and he will bestow malady 'pon her-
and he will make her nether-
but should he then bathe in her blood,
she'll break their silky tether.

and she will provoke his passionate rage-
and she will use it to make him fall-
but should she cross the line time after time-
he'll build another unbreakable wall.

and danger is screamed in their ears,
but blinded they are to the forewarn,
their intertwining is selfishly reckless,
alas, another violent delight is born.

so where broken souls gather-
where hollowed hearts meet-
where happiness is evanescent,
their demons will make their greet...
Morning light strays
Across her weary eyes
Feelings quietly disappeared
Along with the night

Her hand touches
Abandoned sheets
Emptiness scars her soul

Unable to face the sun
She lays her head upon
Satin memories as
His scent upon her pillow
Reminds her of the reason
To smile
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) http://1meremortal.me/2011/10/26/pillow/ Copyright 2011©
 Sep 2012 Meagan Marie
MJ L
The annual parade
Was the greatest event
For those who stood high
on their heels and our heads.

With surgery smiles
and black mummified lashes
They wave at the crowd
and the camera flashes.

Yet those who dare walk
On this carpet of wine
Will struggle and ****
To remain first in line.

As still mortal glances
Chase after some idol
They never suspect
They are all quite suicidal.
Let me tell you about highschool
Let me tell you about the girls with hair higher then they can reach
The boys with the careless hair
The love intre-

No

Let me tell you about MY highschool
With the nerd shirts and phrases that most don’t understand
With the football games and the blue and white face paint
The girls talking to me with another pair of lips rather than the ones plastered on their face

No

Let me tell you about life
About the dew drops in the morning
The smile hidden in a stranger as he orders his double mocha triple shot dosage of love
Injected

No

Let me tell you about me
Let me tell you about my mom and her thin lips that orchestrate fat lies
Let me tell you about my dad who treats the bottle like the daughter he never wanted
Let me tell you about my school life and the way I get treated

No

Let me tell you a story
A story about ups and downs
Pills and coke and *****
With books and love interests
I cant fit my life into a poem

I can tell you my love life in a poem
My scars in a poem
My hate in a poem
My fears in a poem
I can’t tell you my life

I can tell you about my surroundings
How I always try to be strong
But you can only stick your head near ***** for so long
Before you start smelling what they're saying.

I can tell you about homophobia
About the men who flinch at the very word ******
Or the girls who are so uncomfortable with themselves they starve
I can tell you about the parents childless because of bullying

So tell me
What do you want to hear today?
 Sep 2012 Meagan Marie
Rhian Jona
the wind slips her under the awnings
and she yawns; shudder, and the doors shut.

she slept through the downy mornings of spring; her resting
in summer's thorny evenings
leaves her with a bed of brittle buddleias
and moonglades in the puddles.
Awake, still dreaming of you,
              with
     a layer of contemplation
              beneath
                   confusion.
I still see your eyes of blue -
    an image imprinted
                           upon
         ...my soul...
Belonging forever entwined with you...
I used to carry two buckets
It was easy, each swing weightless
I filled them with thoughts of the day and put them on the shelf at night
People began to fill them with their favorite things
At first I liked the kick knacks

Bibles, shards of scrapping paper, handicap stickers, elephants and stars, kids menus, empty party bottles, movie reels and a wadded up half finished confession on the back of a napkin.
The weight began to grow

I enjoyed it, the build of muscle, the struggle of hard work. I could feel the sweat on the sides of my forehead and I was proud. These buckets were a sign of success
they were my trophies
and I polished them every night

the sweat began to pour
into my buckets
I hated the sloppy stains left behind, legs bored with the gain
no longer willing to put in the time
my buckets. my little spits of treasure
I wanted to tip them over the bridge like a butcher chucks his slimed waste into the dump

I let things go

Into the river. let the buckets settle into the slush at the bottom of a cool drink.
If I want to hold something, I'll use my hands
and if over my palm all things drop- I'll know I'm only human
Sweetheart
A gritty man said the world is a place to bury
into. take both feet, heels deep in the city.
coughing through thick smoke, he said
you will know that people are as stuck as gum under the rails
I responded: maybe they are taking their time

when I sleep my eyes don't close
I beat dust with my breathing and let my eyelids flutter at the fan
dreams of sailing entice water from my eyes
I reach over and let droplets cascade into your hair
it always smells like coconut and driftwood

Each morning you wake the sheets are chilled and my is suit warm
I breath perfume from your blouse while I type, see your strawberry hair fall
to your eyes. I relish in solving paper stacks and late night empty floors, yet
I crave the sound of our garage door as it closes behind me

I let my hands fall, careful to miss my pockets
sliding them loosely at my side.
I go out into the clean cut gray window gallery, rows of traffic
The man's smoggy afterthoughts say the subway is as beautiful as
his exhales, sleep is only a man who can breathe both above and below a great sea
and suits secretly climb up slides and swing across monkey bars-
each craving their own private happiness.

Sweetheart
all I really want, at the close of each day
is to make you peanut butter truffle cheesecake and lemon drop tea
paint the bathroom cherry red
rub your feet during movie nights
and hold your hand while we sleep
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