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 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
jaz
Untitled
 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
jaz
is there growth in decay?
all I've learned from pain
is how heavy it feels
to be so empty
I think I've hit rock bottom
 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
Z
10:29 AM.
 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
Z
"I'm here for you" you said.

But you and I both know that what's running through your mind is merely blank.

And the cold reality of this age, is that

if "I'm here for you" is a collection of blank stares, broken words, shattered bonds and blank minds then I'll gladly return the favor.
C.
Yesterday he gave me that look.
He furrowed his brow with deep concern
To tell me how proud he was
Of me.

Yesterday he drunkenly hugged me
And when I pulled away
He grabbed me again
And whispered,

"I'm not done with you yet."

Yesterday I wished he would be
Done with me yet.
But only just
Yesterday.
 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
Maxwell
I was so caught up
trying not to lose you
that I ended up
losing myself
I lost the friend you loved.
Her voice is a song,
And it's on replay in my mind.
I want to mark my skin
like the ever-stained hem of the sleeves
that lick my knuckles like the sea foam
of a southern beach.

I want each pore to be filled
with the same heaviness that each streak
of watered-down mascara holds
as it lingers on the ends of my worn-out shirt sleeves.

Every line must mirror the soul
trapped in the blackened rivers
that forever run parallel to each other.

The curves crafted by the needle
will sway with same helium
he fills my chest with;

the crosses and dots will pack
the kisses he planted tenderly on my lips.

My first tattoo must be more than ink,
it must be heart.
 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
Saltnoon
She is not just an empty canvas for you to fill up your filthy art
She is not just an empty canvas for you to flow out your dark desires in red seduction
She is not just an empty canvas for you to write out your ***** poetry in paint
She is not just an empty canvas for you to colour her in pink and purple that are made up of your lies
She is not just an empty canvas for you to throw out your anger in chili red and orange like fire
You may be empty and lonely but you should never let yourself be destroyed by the artist that can paint you in colorful lies.
 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
Weasel
Nothin' left but empty pockets
And socks wit holes upon each heel.

All the good fings are swept away
Like a rotten banana peel.

Wit nowhere else to turn -
I turn to God.

Wit empty pockets
And holes in my socks -
I turn to God.

{ Weasel }
Hope you enjoy!
Thank you for reading.
Poem 29
© The Weasel
All rights reserved.
 Dec 2015 Nick Dubuque
Nirvana
lighting up a cigarette    
feels really great
taking its small puff
is living happily, enough?

the ash is falling
and so do we
the smoke is rising
and that's what we aim to be

the cigarette burns it deep
and so we've to perceive
to have a successful reap
for smoky appreciation we'll receive

the first puff could be choking
but do we quit smoking?
alike failures are the stepping stone
arise, no one will pamper you're all alone

burn out like a cigarette
to achieve something great
fall like ash, rise like smoke
learn it from cigarette dear folk

don't panic if something goes wrong
have patience and stay strong
after all a cigarette is finally thrown
as we die our body/story is sown...
A smoker can relate to
And a person can relate too
but a poet/writer can relate the two!
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