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Ruby Nemo Jul 2018
waking up to a million people
all dancing around,
begging for my attraction
craving a look
seeking attention.
I try to roll over
to ignore the pestering images
the thoughts that won't leave me to sleep
but as soon as my consciousness decides to break from this waking life
they've found me in my dreams
chase me and taunt
I'd like to be free now
07-11-18
Ruby Nemo Jul 2018
riding high and wondering why
every time you look my way
I'm frozen outside of this hall where you played
it's a mess to be made
and I'm unsure of the way this will go if I try
and rely on your style to keep me off the ground
I'll see you around
maybe next year or next
or the next after that
and while I'm quite skilled
at keeping days short
my life occupied
I'll come back for a ride
nowhere left to turn
you're alone and you heard
me say what I want
is what you want as well
so follow me here
I'll walk you through hell
07-06-18
Ruby Nemo Jul 2018
There comes a time in man's gentle endeavors in which their person flutters through. Not perfect, not even close. When all of the essentials are blatantly missing, but nevertheless you chase. And it's not the chase; it cannot be, because that chase is distinguishable from all else.

Though still, the heavy burden provokes. Why? Well, man may claim the uncertainty of such an underdeveloped string of emotions, yet in some fashion this is utterly obscure. If my opinions not be discerned from a folly fool, let my brain be put to rest!

No, I say, it is much deeper than that. When simple dining becomes strenuous, and the tear ducts loose, another vague instance is to blame. It is not the result of a mere first glance. It is not the result of the wave of a hand. Hell, it is not even that which has evolved from a childish fling. It is something called My Person Condition.

And it is more complex, still. It is worthy of noting that a condition is identified in a modified fashion. See that this is no disease, no ailment, no illness. An unfortunate victim has no hopes of returning to their former, less-impaired self, but their opinions are clouded so fully that this, to them, brings upon great advantages. Yet the scars and piercing truths that lurk within MPC prove to be a particularly heavy load for most to carry.

The earliest symptoms may include the following: loss of appetite, perspiration, anxious breathing, spotted vision, hallucinations, reclusiveness, futuristic thoughts, rage, severe bipolar tendencies, self-contradiction, loss of sleep, loss of energy, sorrow, hopefulness, nightmares, and ****** rejection resulting in extractions such as emesis, urination, and excessive bleeding. Patients will also find difficulty in restricting their thoughts to those which do not include their person. The danger that lies within this condition is extensive, but can be overturned with the proper care and medical attention.

Perhaps I have refrained from discussing the most detrimental force assigned to any MPC sufferer, and that is the false sense of progression of mental feelings of stability. As days move on, and nights drag out into the next, new faces are introduced at an increasingly rapid rate. This can be destructive in the sense that the victim will gain a false grip on reality. They will reject further treatment, stand down in a circulation of positive vibrations, and cease to recall the importance of their continuous efforts against their condition.

A day rolls around in several years. They share feelings of gratitude and affection with another being, pretending that their person has left their mind for good. Until the radio threatens to remind them of so long ago, the compulsive nights that were spent in pursuit of an extra pinch of knowledge. Until the box fills the patient's ears with a sweet melodic voice spun from pure gold and coated in the finest finish. MPC revives itself like a flame inside their heart, inside their bloodstream. Renewal flows through their veins at a painless rate - until a grin spreads across their face, their head is turned back around, and there they are.
My Person.
07-06-18
Ruby Nemo Jul 2018
promulgate my spoken justifications
misinterpreting the way of the world
don't force me

creating the shape of you
all along, you cry, you do
I'm in the few
right next to who?
aloud it sounds
you can't undo

another word from all their lips
another slip right off her hips
another dream I've yet to live
it's over. it's over with

missing a hand
missing a face
don't touch me, darling
I'll fall right back
with ease to you
I know I do
I'm in your view
the color blue
taking over you
lonely and sorry
I'm busy now
don't you worry
we'll figure out how.
07-05-18
Ruby Nemo Jun 2018
what can you do? what can't you say?
when I ask you
but all you do is pray
and leave me here to toss and turn
not alone but feeling hollowed out
I'll pray for a different day
06-29-18
Ruby Nemo Jun 2018
tiptoe out of the basement
leave me alone, no question
I have nothing to be sorry for
you're stuck in a locked mind
unsteady and ready to be let free
I never want to see you again
dancing lines twisting into a word...
what does it say? what do I say?

closing her eyes and imagine
a violet hazy sky
approaching a foggy pavement
ears covered but the sounds still scream
beckoning and inviting
sounds so tempting... but
as the road curves, she follows
as the words become unfamiliar
keeping her eyes closed

burn proudly, like a cleanse
fill me up with another sense
found another one, a better one
it's all a set-up
I'd like to take the chance for a time
confused even when aware
not enough for me to bear
Sublime. 06-06-18
Ruby Nemo Jun 2018
You're living in a part of this heart
like a cassette I can't record over
like a tattoo I cannot remove
I'm like new. Changed, gone...
and these eyes have caught another.
06-23-18
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