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Eventually,
the sun goes down
even here
in lockdown town,

I watch as the night builds
its ogres
then snuggle down
in lockdown town,

No sleep,
though my eyes close my
mind opens and
my breathing is slow as if
saving itself for the morning.
An albatross to hang with all the others,
everything smothers me except for
the tranq'
and the tranq is like money in the bank
a bottle full of quiet that lets me go
quietly down the tubes.

I'm a dream or in a dream or maybe not a dream
it could be real and that's real scary,

Mary, Mary said to dare me
come and see,
(that has to be a dream)

It has to be said
that most of this
only occurs in my head,

the safest place is
often the one
overlooked.
my advice: don't do drugs.
 Mar 2020 Quinn
Rupert Pip
gore
 Mar 2020 Quinn
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
 Mar 2020 Quinn
Sunstrike
When butterflies fall in love, do they feel humans in their stomach?
 Mar 2020 Quinn
arubybluebird
today i decided
you're no longer the love of my life
and i felt free
 Aug 2015 Quinn
Edward Lear
I

The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
  The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
  'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
  'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
  'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?

II

'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
  'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
  'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
  'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
  The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'

III

So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
  The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
  Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
  The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
  Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'

IV

The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
  The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
  The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
  The Mustard-*** climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
  And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.

V

The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
  The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
  To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
  (Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
  Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.

VI

They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
  They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
  Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
  The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
  They faded away.--And they never came back!
 Dec 2014 Quinn
Courtney
appellative
 Dec 2014 Quinn
Courtney
you
can call

me
whatever you
like
so long as
I

can call
you

*mine
 Dec 2014 Quinn
Nicholas
12/14/14
 Dec 2014 Quinn
Nicholas
I don't know what I'm doing
and I'm not sure if I ever did.
These worries wear me down
and sit heavy on my chest,
but I have no plan for my future
because I'm not sure
if I even want one.
 Dec 2014 Quinn
Matthew Goff
I could appreciate her today. I had been watching those golden gestures compliment the frame of elegant houses. And for moments alone on a reflective sidewalk, I had forgotten what my face looked like. Yes, she was a whistler of pastel importance. A type of language only significant when the island pores of sensitive humans bleed open shamelessly and without counsel for their tears. The afternoons have a style all to their own, and I remember glass.
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