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  Apr 2014 Red
Chloe
I'm like a gate way drug.
I'm a starting point.
A late night bad decision.
The desperate act of a man feeling low.

*You want me because I'm the only thing
that wants you back.
Red Apr 2014
That it was only me & you,
alone in a room.
Smoking a joint of your best ****
& I hesitated
because I couldn't match.

& you said something smooth
to make me giggle,
then you kissed me.
it was electric.
But, I stopped you,
& said "I hope you know
I'm not doing this because I owe you,
but  because I like you."


& you just smile & laughed an,
"Of course!"
Giggling,
you kiss me.
You kiss me again & again
& again.
I wrote this 3/14/14 after I had a dream, and it became a reality yesterday, thank you A. Rodriguez for the brief moment of intimacy. **
  Apr 2014 Red
i
breathe in
oxygen,
breathe out
carbon dioxide,
a simple,
constant
process that
i just want to end.
not my best really,
  Apr 2014 Red
i
i am just a teenage tragedy,
alone in this ****** up
world, full of ******
people, like me,
and will eventually
die, like everybody else,
but it will be
before my time.
Red Apr 2014
I see she smokes cigarettes
& I wonder why she wants to die.
She sighs, "Personally,
it's my own method of suicide."
She inhales,
& blows out beautiful smoke rings.
Then she slashes away each one to nothing.
"There," she whispers,
"destruction by the creator."
She smiled softly and inhaled.
I understood what she said.
She was destroying herself,
because she blames herself,
for the final creation of herself.

3 more perfect smoke rings sighed out of her.
They were intense, honest, & powerful,
just like she *was.
Cigarettes are nice, you know?

If the creator of something hates what he made, he destroys it because it is he responsibility to.

The girl who smokes created herself, but she failed.
She hates herself.
As the creator, she finds herself responsible to end herself.
  Apr 2014 Red
Addison René
there is nothing poetic
about the way you smash your drums in
like you smash memories

there is nothing poetic about the way you recite words
that mean everything to you

but do not live by

there is nothing poetic about how you look to the left
because the right way is never your way 

there is nothing poetic deep under your ‘skin’
there is nothing poetic about finding a better place to ‘fit in’
there is nothing poetic about the way you percieve the world or what kind of music you listen to or the way you dress or the way you feel when you are alone and looking at the stars

there is nothing poetic about the smell of camp fire or peter pan or metallica
because we’re off to neverland 

only, you’re off to nowhere 

there is nothing poetic about you

there is nothing poetic about you
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