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me-mow Dec 2016
Depression is a void, an empty ocean.
I dont want to go there, but she tells me to come anyways and I obediently follow.
Away from the hills and through the city, she reintroduces me to my two old friends,
Grief and Pity.
It's been a while, though they do not ask me how I've been. Its always been all about them.
I hate her for taking me here, but i have no choice, she knows the way because we've been there together before.
She knows how to navigate the steep cliffs, lies, narrow paths and empty eyes.
How silly of me to think that I could forget, so many times it was where I lived, cried and slept, I could NEVER forget.
I think I'll stay here a while, after all. Shes blocked the exit on the other side of the hall, but i dont mind because this comfort is mine.
Depression and my two old friends, three if you count her. I didnt miss them but I dont feel out of place here, they know me so well.
So I take another drag from my cigarette and I let the void swallow me.
me-mow Sep 2016
when i was nineteen i fled from the east.
i moved to colorado to escape the dope scene.
when i found out my sister was using, i was just fourteen.
my friends kept dying and my friends STILL keep dying
i came here to escape the dope scene,
i was just nineteen.

four years later, and ****** followed me.
now, i am twenty three
still in the rockies - wild, but not free.
i cant escape the dope scene
because it followed me.

my friend just died, someone that i loved.
(it was only a month ago, today, i miss him so much)
but life is a cycle and ****** followed me,
out to the mountains, my beautiful rockies.
someone i love, with so much potential,
she's been smoking dope and to her its now essential.

like the dead once said
the wheel keeps turning, you cant go back.
everything from this point on is a waiting game.

I'll finish this later.
  May 2016 me-mow
Lakin
If you crave
discovering the pit
of fire,
shower the floor
with your coverings
and summon lust
under white linen
while my hungry
eyes make a
meal of you.

Or, if you
fantasize of glowing
gates drenched in
golden glory,
keep silent
prayers tucked under
your tongue,
and don’t let
God hear you
say my name.
  Apr 2016 me-mow
Savannah S
Soft and smooth, I am not
married yet but
the bed knows me
well.

Jazz hands, sucker
punch, daintily like
ballet -- I am in
full bloom.

Crescendo with my
fingertips, petunia,
rose. The bed knows
me well.

Warm, disgust,
the ****** of the orchestra.
Plush, a slight stir
and a deep breath.

I marry in the bowels
of the night, ink,
glint stars. Lovingly and
pressing, I do
my own.
me-mow Sep 2015
the sun will rise again and like it's light finds the mountains peaks,
in the early morning, my heart stays synchronized with your heart beat.
hide tide and the low, how does the ocean always find the shore?
simply, it's the same way that my soul will always finds yours.
and you can let me die in the winter like the leaves that have fallen,
but your name is the one that i will forever be calling.
so please, in the fall, let us keep growing abundantly,
flourish, let our leaves and love be green.
(our love and life is everything to me)
me-mow Jul 2015
a writer will write in any situation;
terror, and stoic sadness-
it's about manifestation.
verbal *******, mental incarceration.
the blank white page: a cage
and my pen is the key,
ink on paper to set emotion free.

"can i read it, please?"
you like eye ******* my poetry?
with my words i can make you feel anything.
with my words, i can illustrate an intricate painting
because a writer will write to make you see;
a writer would rather write
than speak to anybody.

(speaking gives writers anxiety)
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