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 Feb 2014 Ris Howie
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I wouldn't call this poetry
I wouldn't call this poetry because there is nothing beautiful about wanting to die. There is nothing lovely about hurting yourself, nothing symbolic about deaths kiss that I wish would kiss my entire soul.
I wouldn't call this poetry because it isn't.
I think really living is a lot like knowing there's demons lurking inside your head but checking anyways.
I think it's like getting home late and pulling back the shower curtain checking murders
even though all you have to so is pull back your own eyelids and see the very thing that's killing you
I did not sleep last night because I was contemplating ways to die while also telling myself not to do it
I think I'm in a paradox.
I wouldn't call this poetry because there is nothing moving about this.I long for safety like a deaf person longs to hear.
But how can you long for something you've never felt?
I've been applying bandaids to my heart except it's words and the adhesive they provided just doesn't stick in my mind anymore
Everyone wants to knock down my walls but I'm missing the safety the cemented in bricks provide and I promise you
Oh god I promise you
You don't want to come through my walls
 Feb 2014 Ris Howie
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**** me platonically.
Measure the distance between your fingers and the synapse in my brain.
Check the amplitude across my breastplate and The absence of love marks semblance covering it.
Detach your hips from mine and run away from Me faster.
Look along the purlieu of my heart and shake me Harder with subliminal messages between Glances.
Touch my versification to your mouth and do not Stop your flickering eyes from studying the genial Eulogies between every line.
Sir, you cannot touch antique pieces of marrow And bone.
This blood is obsolete.
How anachronistic to have a heart pumping Inside of a dead soul.
Please tell me a story, the side I could never see.
 Jan 2014 Ris Howie
Connor
I know you've been hurting, trying to close that curtain,

Shut out the world, put down what's been lurking

inside you, it's ripping at your insides,

You try to run, but you can't hide,

You tried to fly, but you only glide

And it's unlikely that you'll land lightly,

I'd try to catch you, but you'd try to miss, to spite me,

I know sometimes I might seem mad,

But I can't let go of what I once had,

I'm not trying to make you feel bad,

I just wish you'd take the time to listen

to the words I'm trying to say and

that I'm cut dry, I'm dying, you know I can't lie,

I wish you'd see why I'm holding you so closely,

You're the glue, binding by broken heart,

Like a missing part, without you I start to fall apart,

I'm trying to stand tall, but my knees are shaking,

My mind is caving, every step I'm taking

is breaking my legs, my blood pools like a lake in

my chest because my heart's been torn open,

my happiness has been stolen, and I'm having trouble

coping with all this emotion, my thoughts are forming

so quickly, they're smoking, I can't tell if I'm joking,

or if I'm screaming out, hoping that someone will

notice that I'm broken, but I guess I'm too outspoken

to be considered anything but happy, actually,

I'm pretty sappy, and I'd gladly rejoice if, for once, someone would hear my real voice,

Until then, my tears will fall silently, like the rain drops on my window

that I just won't hear, I've lost myself within the confines of my own mind,

I can't help but express these feelings line after line,

It's like all these rhymes help this time fly by,

And I can finally feel alive, then I try to walk away, and my heart just writhes

in pain when the memory of you brushes past my head, or when sometimes

I swear that I can smell your perfume, it's like I'm playing

a game of "guess who" with myself, and I don't think it's

healthy to be this caught up in something like this,

but I can't help but miss the feeling of your kiss on my lips,

I miss it so much I swear it's making me sick,

I don't think I can handle this, I swear it's madness,

I just need to talk, that's all I can ask for,

So, please, won't you open that door,

Let me, it'a what I'm on my knees begging for.
 Jan 2014 Ris Howie
Cheri Lynn
The sound of clothes slipping from shoulders in the quiet dark.
A muted glow bouncing enticingly off of smooth, exposed skin.
A playful giggle, a gentle lingering kiss.
The plush, warm, hypnosis of lips on lips.

A quickening heartbeat that pairs with another.
The transition of teasing touches and subtle amused sounds.
The rush of heat shared between bodies.
A catching breath in the moment.

The need that fills the senses of both.
A feeling of urgency, euphoria just out of reach.
A joining of two halves, one soul.
The moment of sheer bliss with one deep, and warm, within the other.

A new universe is gradually exposed.
The unique rhythm of two bodies, discovered.
The sweat trickles, where salted skin excites.
A love expressed by approaching ecstasy.

Life is rarely as beautiful as in these moments.
 Jan 2014 Ris Howie
Nat Lipstadt
Singular

definition:
extraordinary; remarkable; exceptional: a singular success.

unusual or strange; odd; different: singular behavior.

being the only one of its kind; distinctive; unique: a singular example.

separate; individual.

Logic: a proposition containing no quantifiers, as “Socrates was mortal.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Singular Proposition:

you think you are special, exceptional,
you think you are unusual, odd,
proud of it.

extraordinary, exceptional, unique.

maybe so.

Here then is my Singular Proposition:

On the day that you unconditionally
accept responsibility
for the care and feeding,
for,
yes, the very
survival*
of just
one single
other

on that day,
you may call yourself,
singular,
in every sense of the word.*

Propositions:
I am a singular.
I am mortal.

Affirmed.
Jan. 12, 2014
 Jan 2014 Ris Howie
Aarya
For Ellen:
 Jan 2014 Ris Howie
Aarya
If I could,
I would pick up my ink pen
and drown an ocean into you
instead of drowning you in it.
Extract these rotting feelings
for the sake of your ignorance.
Carve scriptures into each delicacy of your brain
so you wouldn’t have to dwell in such misery every day.
Wire faith
to your blemished heart.  
Imbue purity
to your sullied soul.
If I could,
I would write you through all depths of insanity
without any harm
so that your
mind no longer persists the thought of death.
There was a time I thought you were dead.
Only you were painted red
in a black and white world.
Like you have been walking barefoot on a broken road
your whole life.
Your demons imitate life
And life imitates the demons.
You are the one being tied down by invisible, nonexistent chains.
So unaccepting of help that has come for you
Watch  
the sun touch the horizon
reach the meeting of sun and ground
and
Find further still,
The limits you would like to reach only run from you.
You have such a murderous tongue
for society  
people.
But one day I hope to see you write yourself into existence
Rather than to let yourself drown in it.
Why has you dying become something so habitual?
Darling, death is not a friend of yours
Nor are you a friend of his.
But I know of your frequent dates with death
Tell me
Does his neck feel like happiness
And do his lips relieve you of your suffocation
Now
are you lost?
or are you found?
Do you recognize the irony  
Of the most terrifying things happening in the most angelic places
Charm yourself upon that bridge
Whose lights light up the city in golden arrays
With a glazed look
you’d think.
In sadness seen go by
You are charmed by either war or hope.
These occurred robberies have taken much
But they left opportunity
Important people
And a moon in your window
A future that only you know the ending of  
And a slice of the midnight sky.
So it goes.
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