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Mar 2012 · 1.6k
The Heart's A Lonely Hunter.
The heart's a lonely hunter and I'm just timid with the gun.
Forests grow thicker with doubts in my mind.
Men with white collars climbing bodies to reach "happiness".

I am Hunted.

I have not began to burn at both ends.
My candles wax is still intact and my wick  is in in flames.
It grows shorter and shorter by the day.

As I wonder if i should die by a suit and tie or by the blade.

I am Hunted.

I am hunted by carbon copy killers.
I am hunted by Juarez smoke stacks.
I am hunted by tyrants.
I am hunted by brutes of men.
I am hunted by fascist fathers.

and all this can be summoned up in two simple words:

**Dank Submission.
Mar 2012 · 624
Marla Singer
Her hips sway in my mesmerized mind.

Porcelain drapes to hide the shade of war torn beauty.

I will expect cigarettes and black lungs but will love you still.

Silky, pale skin draped over her lovely bones.

When the chalk meets faceless smiles.

I will expect shades of grey and a soundtrack to a ****.

They say to find another vessel is to never die alone.

and that when you find another heart you will find a new home.

But for now only steel and stone accept my love.

and the branches that grow from my soul are cut down to the stump.

So we will open the flood gates our youth and crawl back inside

Open the flood gates and begin to divide.

for everything we love has grown so cold.

for everything we love is broken and getting old.

Waiting for you to open your tobacco scorn lips, sown together lips.

And readying myself to be new again.
Mar 2012 · 564
Untitled
The water Is wide, white as ******* eyes. And I stand at the road pleading to god to see headlights.                              

Stand cold and shivering. Insecurity, Center dividers and purgatory.    

This is what we know and it wont change anytime soon.                                  

My cup runneth over.

Our Armories,                                                                                            

We are all just mirror images, ugliness clearer then your eyes laid shut while you’re tossing and turning at night.

Its all pain seeping through wires, in my veins and onto my skin.

The pain, It fills me up. Fills me up like this waitress fills my coffee cup.

I pray to god you make it wine, sweater to the tongue.

And if this may pass, god grant me the power to see past insecurities.

And this may pass please throw away all my ***** bed sheets.

This is the differences between cancer and divorce.

This is your soundtrack to a ****.

This is your abandoned song.

Breath cancer and bend your own will.
Mar 2012 · 1.0k
Esther Greenwood
I know your pain,
They broke my bones and divided me.
Where have you been?
It’s been 19 years of this ****** mess.
This is your mother asleep at the wheel, This is your brothers blood in the backseat
When everything you love only seems like something you feel.

Sacred sediment wrapped in white gold.
Shiny as god’s revolver but twice as cold.
What you hear is all Casablanca and she’s shivering cold.
They took your teeth, fragments of what they sold.

Take these seams from me.
Split them down these American IV dreams.
Take these seams from me.
Take these two lips, cut me clean and free.

She put me out like a cigarette.
Burned at both ends.
And my history to the anesthetist
and my body to surgeons

Take these words from me.
These cystic fibrosis regimes.
Take these words from me.
Light blue collar worker bees.

- MW
Bukowski Kerouac Sylvia Plath

— The End —