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 Feb 2018 samuel nathan
Vale Luna
(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.
Forward: from the victims perspective.
Backward: from the murderers perspective.

This TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE
I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
 Sep 2015 samuel nathan
Brycical
When you spread your
lips,
like wings,
your midnight words
whisper on my
skin.

Late night hair
twirls,
like smoke,
in a dark gust
spiraling towards my
hands.

Watercolor eyes
drip,
like ice,
glistening in the moon,
reflecting rainbows on my
shadow.
response to another piece of artwork....
http://arterika.tumblr.com/post/120069057788/moonbird-2015
night, shuffled between
the unpredictable cards
of magic and moonlight
 Sep 2015 samuel nathan
K Alexys
tears in my eyes as i barely fought.
shot your bullet through my head like a thought.
anything that was moving had now come to a stop.
everything i could hear was silenced by the shot.

losing my life as it slips from my body.
i already hear what they'll say about me.
she was quiet
she was troubled.
she was funny,
she was nice.

now shes on the concrete floor
headed towards the light.
i never would have saw this coming
not tonight.

my murderer was not a bad guy.
by taking my life
he saved my life.
my savior was suicide.
and
i am just here
turning words
into
fantasy
while
you are there
creating dreams
with your
reality

©IGMS
i thought that you will save me from this fantasy
 Aug 2011 samuel nathan
Ryan Evan
A cartwheeling deadleaf crosses
the street, to a pack of fat crows
hunched by a meal, one crazy
enough to wobble next to speeding wheels
for a nibble, 'cause a corpse on the ground
is worth three in the belly.
 Aug 2011 samuel nathan
Ryan Evan
I am bare and torn
a barren land of fortitude.
You’re slick-haired, clean, and driven.
Ambitious and self-righteous
You move your weight in grocery stores, offices,
and football fields. Your cultures, your words,
fake smiles, “how are you?”
illusions of connection.
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
Not happy, but content?
Henry said it better…
I’m a bearded **** with tattered feet.  
You’re dying. I’m living
like an animal:  woolen, bleeding, filthy.
I am two-armed, two-legged, I **** with my hands.
I’ve eaten from the tree that has no name.
And I’m not one to make up words.
I breathe and sleep, I eat, I drink.
There is no me, only shuffling sounds of feet on leaves;
oxygen, carbon monoxide that will someday cease to emit,
And the ground will eat the energy inside me.
now I'm a shipwreck in a sundress,
an aimless, shameless coquette –
a first kiss, a second guess,
a weak and wobbly pirouette.
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