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 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
**** it
in life.
For just another few seconds,
the world's most pretentious hipster.
~The Bryce Post
 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
Though we've only known each other
for two weeks,
i feel confident

in trusting your judgement
100%.

But you scare the ****
out of me
because i never have any idea what the hell you're going to do next.
~Your Neighbor,
Bryce Post
 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
Words surround me,
some beckon for attention.
Once I gaze upon the loudest,
I’m overcome—
suddenly I AM that word,
briefly, inking itself to paper,
occasionally wrapping on the laptop
in an attempt to live a little bit longer
in the lexicon of time.
 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
You Egyptian hipstress
philosophically diggin’ through this
world to find a life to live with.
     Your  summer breeze
     metaphorically testing & caressing me
     --keep questioning
        don’t ever stop, please,
        trust me
it’s endearing
and steadfast.
Hearing your voice
my mind rejoices
synapses electrocute  my brain
& the fire in your voice
rises, burning, pulsing
hypnotic sonar warming my
                   soul…
yet you’re impulsively young, still trying
to find the right air to breathe;
via singing artistic gypsy
dominating submissives
yet pondering above your
      third eye
burning,
warming,
       heating—vividly  alive
within your eyes
      is intriguing
         yet deep down
      your rising
          embers pop!
               Your body dances
            sway—shaking—swaying
           burning ancient questions
in the earth          
but forgetting
  what the fuse
  is connected to….


                              *find the fuse
From your dear friend
in the States,
~Bryce
 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
Cups runneth over
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.

Men & women parade the streets
with whimsical abandoned
swaying bodies
smiling,
like they just got laid--
or are about to.

******* bathrooms roar
while marijuana balconies cackle--
even the folks staying in
have their music turned up
so nobody can hear them *******.

Barefoot indulgence
and tropical dresses flowing
in the midnight air--
even the cops don't care,
this is business.
Every whoop and hollar
is a dollar in their pocket.

Each vehicle blaires
a different song
chaos to the ears
becomes rhythm
for the body-
shots don't need to be in glasses,
grinding is the traditional greeting.

The young come for the atmosphere,
the older for the work release...
everyone is reckless on the weekend,
all the bars runneth over
and over
& over.

A ritualistic hedonism
leads to a collective sleep
that slowly, slowly
overtakes us all
as we slowly fade,
for a few hours until

Cups runneth over again
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.
 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
Wouldn't it be weird if
JFK was reincarnated
as Monica Lewinski?

Buddha probably
ate better butter
than Ghandi.  

If we keep fighting
the divine fellows
we pray to
will be too afraid to return.
This isn't ******* Highlander.
Christ, what a hilariously insane movie.
They probably show that
to people who drink caviar & say things
like "pip pip!"


Either way,
we're all related.
  

Otherwise than that,
let's all be
LOVE.

Except for people
who commit genocide.
May they be reincarnated
as ******'s final excretion
as he killed himself;
including ******.
 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
Immortality
is such an idiotic
idea. **** that ****.

Thoughts of prolonging
life through vegetables &
tea are greedy. sighs

I do those things cause
they taste delicious, & I
work out to feel good.

But I drink, often.
I smoke occasionally.
My body's been through hell.

I'd rather die tomorrow
than live to be like
100 years old.

My mind shutters
to think what this world will be
like at that point. sighs

I don't want to live too long,
I'll know when my time
is up, hopefully.
I do enjoy living and love everyone though.
 Nov 2012 Olivia Pierce
Brycical
Until recently,*
most of my memories readily available
remind me of ghost needles,
ice picks
& phantom Taipan bites
jabbed wildly
into a heart that beats nails
through my veins.

There are only five people on this planet
I give a **** about.

Everyone else
are just scars
whose dull stabs of pain
remind me why I don't take life seriously.

You words remind me
of that pain I used to endure,
the blood eyed, vicious demons
with barbed-wire kisses
and razor blades to my throat
while their katana fingernails
clawed out my liver and kidneys
riding me like a sybian
whispering comforting Trinidad Moruga Scorpion lullabies.

And I thank you
for reminding me
we have to go through hell
to find the bliss we love.
From a fan, student
and fellow wonderer,
~Bryce
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