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Pen Lux Nov 2014
I read his poetry like Bukowski
religiously
I spent time drinking and *******

in protest to the aching inside of me
raking through old poems was easier
than writing new ones about the life
I was throwing away, because the
heartbreak was nothing but a wedge
drivingmeclosertothemistakesand
even further from the                       writing

I read his poems like I drink coffee
every morning
that I'm not feeling sick to my stomach
and I choke him down to spit him out
no longer masked or guarded
sparing courtesies
because the mysteries
weren't as mystical
as all the fantasies
used to be saying
it's good to look
and it's a privilege to touch

these lips ache in your absence
yet I haven't learned enough
Pen Lux Oct 2014
been a bit
detached lately
burns and cuts
running amock
waking up
face down
on the couch
reaching out
my eyes
wide closed
my hand
grabs yours
it's light
now leaving
barely seeing
dry heaving
after water
instant *****
fragmented memories
almost gone
don't
do
the digging
smoking
****
fading
out
no                          doubts.
until tomorrow.
Pen Lux Sep 2014
forever better
alone with production
forever better
attending to poetic tendencies

the skies cry as I write
smoke so thick that it puts fog in the corner
heavy winds and planes rushing overhead
lightning with no trace of thunder
the wind rumbles louder
sequencing with my stomach
as I ache for inspiration in every toxic breath
that follows after the fire spreads

I smoke with the earth
as my lungs bleed
together with my heart
Pen Lux Sep 2014
words are liquid
slowly drying on
each page and yet
I cannot write a thing
Pen Lux Sep 2014
brown, black and white
pebbles of...
dirt scattering across.
the kitchen floor,
liquid silver...
call it Mercury,
watch it bolt from room to room.

bullets...
maybe twenty,
down the hallway.
past the stairs.
one more step.
maybe twenty...
pebbles
of
brown,
and
black and white
dirt.

red... moldable clay
and
you'll feel home.
and
you'll feel
***** as a bullet
shooting through
your eye socket.

Mercury takes morning
by storm, spreads out
and stretches...
stretches so far moons
are consumed,
as is the day,
and soon.

it will be you.
  Sep 2014 Pen Lux
BB Tyler
In my meticulous counting of
escape routes
am I undoubtedly bound.

It's ridiculous this shouting
and fake mouth
can spout such powerful sounds.

If we are made round
by this playground ride,
if we remain found
(pressure applied on every side)
I might drown or die
or more likely hide away,
fly, explore, and stay,
get gone
get lost
and pray
till dawn and day
when frost and spray
on the lawn displayed make waves in grey,
break the dew-sparks and make way for
sunrise hues
(no dark, light blues)
for you
to run right through.
All bright, brand new.
Right on cue, as if you knew.

You know,
I've heard that birds go
over the rainbow,

I can too.

You know?
You knew.
It's not just one shot you got,
not one flow to go with,

you can choose.

We're no longer circular,
shining like a herkimer,
opening my heart
and finding what it's worth to her.

Undefined by size,
by shape, by time.
I am more than mind,
motion and lines.
I am the ocean and brine,
the fruit and the rind.
I leave nothing behind.

I see but I have no eyes,
I grasp but my hands are tied,
and still I try
because that's the name of the game,
whether it's love
or money
or fame,
we're not above change,
we're not beside staying the same.
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