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 Apr 2015 Nimrod Morgenstern
I see problems down the line
Darkness steals my sight
While I'm looking for a sign
I can't see without any light

It's humid here
And the windows are cracked
I'm eating but I'm starving with fear
A smile on her face but emotion is lacked

I'm feeling the room with my mind
Listening to the songs from their creaking radio
And hoping for some hidden existential secret to find
As over and over in my mind turns this scenario

I'm pale and freckled and my hair is long
They're dark and their voices hum melodies sweeter than my supper
It's a long and simple song
Almost describing the state of mind after taking an upper

The men seem happy
The women seem lonely
It is fall and the woods grow sappy
It is dark and here I am young and only

They're here because they don't have any money
I'm here because I don't have any friends
They treat me lovingly, like I am their communal child, calling me honey
They tell me no worries things change and to an end come trends

My blue pleated skirt is saturated with the scent of soul food
And my mind carries the only bit of them that leaves the kitchen
My white button up hides the good
And my ears hold in the things told to the only one who'd listen
Dedicated to Tommy, my elementary school cook.
 Feb 2015 Nimrod Morgenstern
Getting drunk at the bar
Knowing I won't be going far
Getting high off a line
Hoping for some godly sign

On this city Christmas Eve
I want to leave
But I can't move my feet
Can't face the street

Missing my man
Cursing him - ****
For being two years gone
In his life I was just a pawn

I would let anyone lie next to me
In the darkness I cannot see
I crave human touch
I don't ask for much...
And so I'm crying alone in my bed and staring at the lights
The thought of death doesn't scare me.
I wouldn't mind dying anytime soon.
It's just a part of life.
I feel its pointless to hide from the ever so
Presence of death's hands.
I'd rather live a short happy life
Than a long miserable one.
But thats just my thought.
The thought of love used to baffle me.
But theres a point where a pair of certain brown eyes capture you as the sun refelcts off of them giving them this color of dark honey,
Or the point where his hands hold you to the ground and you never want to let go,
Or just the sound of his musical voice wraps around you making you feel at home.
Thats the point where you know its not baffling, but instead, breathtaking.
But others have their own opinions i suppose.
The thought of a higher being used to be childish for me.
What do you mean the God that created this entire earth and all its creatures actually cares about me?
But I realized it is possible.
I mean, what else could explain the air i breathe,
The things I see,
The love I now hold in my heart?
I belive in God.
I just may not believe he cares for me.
But what are you gonna do?
Just my thoughts.
you realize you have no one
when you're screaming into your pillow at 2 am
and you call them
and it rings
and you get sent to voicemail

because everyone can fall asleep
and no one really cares

when your head is about to explode

your heart is bleeding acidic poison rotting you from the inside out


you're choking on every single letter formed into words that escaped their mouth
when I was younger,
my idea of pain was so very limited,
it was
a garden of roses
in a world full of thorns

one thousand skinned knees
five hundred sprained ankles
could not even begin to compare
to what I felt,
the day you left

my body was broken
my heart no longer belonged in my chest
my mind was dead,
and every single thought of you
the skin
that I hadn't already gotten to

and these pain killers,
have always worked for
skinned knees
sprained ankles

but not today

so I'm raising my dosage
to a few handfuls

hoping this pain will go away
today, my English teacher explained that poetry is a way to express
internal feelings

and the sadness I felt in my mind in my heart
could be spilled by accident
sloppily on paper
and still seen as a beautiful work of art

but the happiness you make me feel,
my mind cannot fathom words
to script carefully in ink
what you make me feel

these butterflies can't escape from my stomach and land on paper

the thought of loosing you
cannot rip my skin apart
to claw out of my body
and tear my words to shreds

don't turn whatever we have
into something I can write about
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