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I called them "grown ups"
Until I was old enough to realize
That some of them didn't grow up

From my experience
Mostly for bad
But sometimes for good
My dad never grew up from that toddler stage of the world revolving around him, throwing tantrums, and not being able to care for others. :D

Also, I am very pro keep your inner child alive, so don't get the wrong idea. That's what I meant by for good.

(This note was written by a wrench with a cool-mint stench. It's favorite place was a bench.)
Black ink covers pink scars
A sun on my leg, a moon on my arm
Hieroglyphs of a modern type
Telling a story that's hard to type
A journey through my ages
Blood and ink mixing on carbon pages
Permanence as fleeting as I
A memorial name carved into my thigh
Words of prayer linger on the skin
Reminders in moments of chagrin
Wearing this novella of mine
fun fact: i have over 100 tattoos. fun hobby
 Jan 8 Sam Lawrence
Liana
Doctor said
I just need rest

Came back a year later
Still messed up in the head

Doctor said
Just drink more water

Came back two years later
After I took a test and it said I was depressed

Doctor said
I'd be fine
I just needed a therapist

Came back one year later
After 4 of them
Not feeling the best

Doctor finally said
There's a problem
And set me up with a psychiatrist
To give me meds

I hope I won't need to come back again
Not a fan of my doctor

(This note was written by a backpack named zamarthadero that only was willing to hold hot pink clarinets that ate avocado ice cream)
My body on the stainless steel.
They drain my blood out while
pumping life back into in me.
I'm dressed in the latest style.
They make me up like a *****.
I finally look best to please.
Friends never see the corpse.
They only see their memories.
there's a little room
with a round door
in the back of my heart
with a view of the ocean
it's here where i find myself
forgiving everyone and everything

the floorboards are worn smooth
from all my returning
i pass through corridors
where conversations
circle like trapped birds

but here, in this back room
there is only morning light
on bare wood, and a single chair
where i sit and watch waves
erase themselves over and over

sometimes i stay until sunset
when the water turns to copper
i know i'll leave again
dissolving into the sweet
clutter of being human,
my heart a crowded kitchen

but the door stays there
round like a full moon
waiting, and the waves
keep writing their one word
over and over: return
listen to the server, who
clasping the teapot,
tells us revelations
of those who live, who divorce
and warm the ***.
 Oct 2024 Sam Lawrence
neth jones
.
you're at the front door                                    
you're in through the front door   my door 
  without knocking
face flushed with malice and ****** visions  
"uh-huh" i say
there's a cotten shopping bag                          
                    of who-fears-what   in one mitt
and you throw yourself                    
                   on my sunken couch
you unzip those mad pricy leather boots
with flames down the sides
and clutch your bag to your chest  
with meaning and taunt
        leaning toward
                  a smile  crocodiles your face
          your clock ; three forty seven
your mind ; immersed in some midnight woo
a witching verse and a fortune boastful and blue
am i to be involved in your clockwork mockery ?
(i have been your collaborator                          
              and coal mine canary in the past)
  do i even want to be invited ?
i don't know any better   i am  as always  excited
"alright, i'll bite .. what's in the bag ?" i say
 Oct 2024 Sam Lawrence
neth jones
.

jump     -     start
heart-wired  flash-fired
fore and aft      i'm wit-lashed
ride   a  scutting  state   (oh-my-hate)
glare   at the creature  (will  it  look  away ?)
i'm    jolty      a    s l e e p y  menace
death        in  the  drivers   seat
slur down  drowsing
jump     -    start

.
original notes removed from 'results of sleep deprivation'

jump-start         heart-wired                                
    flash-fired   back and forth
wit-lashed by my scutting state
glaring my hate at the creature
till  it at least looks away
i am both jolty and sleepy
most unwelcome behind the wheel
unappealing company
company halt
living life at the end of my rope
feet desperately hunting for solid ground
afraid of the day I won't be able to cope
when death knocks it doesn't always make a sound
i struggle to convince myself of hope
while the good side of life barely comes around
day to day is generally a slippery *****
if not sliding down
it's just 'round and 'round you go
on this rickety merry-go-round

©2024
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