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Come on, baby, you're just...
Drowning
This is no crowning
You'll be on your way to prowling
Such an inhuman..
Heart
Such a groundbreaking start
Such a trivial part...

*But our minds create art
Couldn't think of a title/name
 Nov 2015 Nico Allentine
ell
White pages
stained and blemished
Once ******
now yellowed with age

Passionate words
blurred and faded
by tears
long since dried

Thin lines
holding memories
of kisses, soft touches
and pleading eyes

Paper treasures
Printed gems
Buried
by a sea of years

No one knows
why they are kept
locked away
in a cherished nook

Until they are held
by trembling hands
on lonely nights
when old hearts ache
 Nov 2015 Nico Allentine
oni
caught like an animal
in headlights,
which way do i
run?
We stay up all night
to find words that rhyme.
We scribble. We write,
losing track of time.

We stare into space,
deep in thought.
From a child's fairy-tale
to the wars fought.

We can't stay still.
Our fingers, they itch.
With no path to follow,
in dreams we are rich.

We dance and fly
but crash to the floor.
We laugh and cry
with our emotions galore.

Smiling while judging,
we scribble. We write.
From petty love stories
to the furious fights.

Over incomplete lines,
we again lose sleep.
Muttering new words
as we silently weep.

We see the world
the way no one would.
We break the rules
the way no one could.

A new day begins
with all new themes.
"Which one to choose?"
Our minds scream.

We scribble. We write
with bees in our bonnets.
From epic ballads
to the melancholic sonnets.

With passion in our blood,
and a calloused hand,
we are poets.
Together we stand.
“Session two;
Subject has become dependant; requires three capsules a day.
Subject has also requested for detainment.”


What is gold?
“What do you mean?”
Why can’t it stay?
Why couldn’t he stay?

“I don’t understand.”
Neither did Eden.

Patience
The window broke again.
“There are no windows.”
Debateable
“What?”
How could you lie to yourself like that?
“I’m not lying.”
I laid the centuries upon my hands.
“Time cannot be held.”
It can be lifted.

Dawning
“How are you?”
I’m very tired.
“Why?”
The voices kept me up again.
“The voices?”
They told me it was my fault.
“Is it your fault?”
If it is, then why am I so proud?

“Are you feeling any better?”
Has death said his due?
“Death?”
Hunger
“Would you like something to eat?”
I’ve already eaten.
“What?”
It came like rain.
“What did?”
Their sins.

Shunned
“Do you recall?”
His voice?
“Do you recall anything?”
It shifted like rubies-
-and lowered the moon.

“The moon?”
She sang a song for him.
“A song?”
It’s always darkest before the dawn, right?
“Some would say.”
I’ll follow the dawn.
“Why?”
Until I see the first light.

Grasping
“Do you remember her?”
I am still in love with that place.
“What place?”
The stars in my skin
“Stars?”
They danced and spiraled into amber trees
“What trees?”
Amber.
Just like her heart.

“Her heart?”

Who could compare?
“Compare what?”
Love to a tragedy.
“What?”
Why would they do that?
Aren’t they the same?



“End of trial.
Subject denied.”
re·lapse
/rəˈlaps/
verb
verb: relapse; past tense: relapsed

to become ill again after a period of improvement in health
of an illness;  to return to a bad condition, form of behavior, or disease.
his darkness became
tainted by my red

i burst like the sunrise
on the canvas of his skin,
raw and hot, red, red, red

i set flame to the somber
blues we'd once painted
our skin deep with.

kissing the echoes of
our past, but always
pulling away too soon.

i was too red, too vibrant.

he didn't like the taste
i left on his tongue
it was bitter like him,
it stung of the past he'd
tried to bury on my lips

my skin would ash
but he'd miss the flames.
my pulse would gallop
and intrude like
summer into his veins.
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