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 Dec 2017 Inkveined
kas
this is how it happens
it's the last day the temperature will be
above thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit
until February
you're not looking at the date
it's just the end of November
the middle of the night in the middle of a road
at the end of November
the hum of this small town hurts your ears
you're stuck in a dream where everything you see
turns into a weapon
this is how it happens
you knocked back sharp, amber liquid
to make this place feel a little more okay
and it only worked halfway
no matter how soft the edges are
you bruise your hips when you
run into them in the dark
you're ******* on your fourth cigarette when
a police officer pulls over and asks
how you're doing today
in the too-bright white of the headlights
the sick taste of Red Stag sticks to
the roof of your mouth
the mouth that you're moving into a smile
the mouth exhaling plumes of smoke at the ground
you're okay
"i'm okay."
you don't tell him what you're really doing
you're really taking all of your
thoughts about stopping your pulse for a walk
you don't tell him you've been
chasing ambulances all night long
please, officer don't leave me alone, you don't say
he tells you to have a good night and drives away
and this is how it happens
the moon smiles at you with every single one
of its tiny, sharp teeth
nobody but your cat finds you in that bathtub
nobody but your cat watches you rise from red water
watches it drip drip drip
from every chasm carved in your left arm
nobody but your cat saw the soft animal of your soul
shiver from the cold that day
it's the first day the temperature
dropped below
thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit inside your chest
based on true events
 Dec 2017 Inkveined
kas
and suddenly time stops
after weeks and weeks of moving too fast
the stillness makes my head spin
or maybe you make my head spin
because there you are
a friend of a friend
standing in the living room
had it been my living room
i'd have asked you to leave
our history was crashing around
inside of my skull
a ricocheting bullet i didn't know how to stop
as it were
all i could do was stand there
statue still in the doorway
frozen in time
your silhouette blurred against
the afternoon sunlight streaming in
through the window
and i stared for moment after long moment
wanting
wishing
needing you to be someone else
and just like in all my bad dreams
when i scrounged up the courage to greet you
your face fell into an expressionless mask
our eyes barely met
your irises the same shade
as the coffee that holds my eyes open every morning
and nothing fell from your mouth
i tried hard not to feel anything
i know you were as terrified as me
 Dec 2017 Inkveined
kas
a love note
 Dec 2017 Inkveined
kas
every single time
you smile at me
something in my head
malfunctions
Where are you going to put the tears when
you're full of them and have been for years,
where are you going to put the tears then?

People I know who never let feelings show
and people I don't who do,
people who smile while they're breaking their hearts
which one of those people are you?
Still
watching
snow
falling
each flake
takes me away
to
some far distant day
when the sun
shone

I watch as it goes
then it's gone

a bit like life
but the snow's much
colder.
It was just in her to smile,
programmed at birth.

Her smile was bright,
enough to light up a bleak room.

She was a joy to have around,
the warmth some needed in their life.

But not anymore.

Her smile's faded,
leaving no trace of it ever being there.

She's stone cold,
unable to feel happiness.

She's fought back with all she could,
but it's not in her anymore.

And they wonder why.

They ask her,
"Where's the old girl I know? It's too quiet."
She doesn't lie, so she can't say that it isn't them.

So now she walks down a lonely path,
one that she wouldn't voluntarily walk,
but has to.

She's lost her most beautiful trait,
and she's willing to take it back.
 Dec 2017 Inkveined
Jami Samson
Looking at a computer screen
but seeing blue skies;
brain frying in radiation,
body floating in the open ocean.
Heels on concrete,
grass between toes.
Pounding on computer keys,
pricking on cactus spines.
Thinking of brand conversion
but dreaming of the Grand Canyon.
Impersonating relevance,
giving my rhymes a rest.
A fool for freedom
but a tool for currency.
#75
12.01.17
 Dec 2017 Inkveined
SunFlower
Who are you to tell me that you missed me
when all you did was cause me pain
who are you to tell me he did me no wrong
when you stood there watching him suffocate my soul
and beat the **** out of me
who are you to tell me you cared about me
when you kept your mouth shut when you knew he abused me
who are you to tell me that you loved me
when you walked out of my life when I needed you the most
Who are you to tell me that I broke your heart
when all I did was try to fix it
Who are you to tell me that you got my back
when all you did was stab it
Who are you to tell me that will never forget me
when I already have...
 Dec 2017 Inkveined
Pagan Paul
.
.      .
     .   .         .  .      .     
.   .     .        .
Snow kisses the sleepy mountains,
draping them with sheets of white.
Flakes drift down into the vales,
jewels sparkling in the full moon light.
A simple crystallised drop of water
delightfully whirls on a gentle breeze,
alighting softer than an eyelash kiss,
to find a home upon the trees.



© Pagan Paul (04/12/17)
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