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S Oct 2011
here are some things you just can't shake....
there are little haunts inside your soul.
mine come in dreams,
and little things,
like shoes, and westerns, and rabbit holes.
S Oct 2011
contorted mentality
wrapped in something soft
left for dead
in that little
green dumpster out back.
growth stunted by
that gentle smothering.
smothered with a pleasure
that was needed but
not given out of mutuality.
you’re enjoyment went
no deeper
than a short-lived purge
and that happy
reintroduction.
nothing more,
nothing less.
S Oct 2011
passionless eyes.
when was all the life smothered out?
was it when you were let go,
or when you chose to leave?
was it when that black shadow
crossed your eyes that
memorable night
or when that same night
was etched into your skin
forever.
was it the blood trickling out,
that took your passion with it,
or the tears that washed
that last glint of light away.
oh how I wish
I could have seen them
when they shone.
S Oct 2011
visions of you haunt me.
slide under my fingertips.
smother my insatiable hunger.
honey dripping through its sift,
caught by over-zealous hands.
scorned, you only want what
settles unrecognizable thirst.
it burns your eyes,
it dries the petals on your lips.
S Oct 2011
cold air is colder against bare flesh.
swept over with serenity.
alone.
these worldly things have lost their grasp.
cold air grasps.
cold burns.
that sound when iced wind hits the glass
sends a chill down a covered spine
cold in thought
cold against flesh
left alone in dark divine.
doubt is distant
but closely cold
a chill in warmth and desire.
a clouded bowl
of clouded ice
a frozen-over fire.
These things are cold
and cold they stay
no heat has found its home
lost in air
futilely grown
a never ceasing mire.
S Oct 2011
a foreign feeling migrates in.
in with the winter winds
it comes.
ready.
raw.
musters strength.
guiltily building up.
it move from the
core of being
outwards.
pulses like liquid heat
poisons the blood
swallows whole
its innocent host.
runs rampant
exposure in spurts.
unwanted attention.
shameful movements.
anger and hate.
anger and hate.
rage.
S Oct 2011
I am not a dog to be scolded and rewarded.
I do not bark when asked to speak.
I am not a dog.
therefore
I am not a *****.
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