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Grasping at the air and your gone, like a whisper in my mind or my breath on a foggy morning. It lingers for a while, surrounding my head,
Like a pure cloud of delusion, a bubble of insecurities and hopes and desires and dreams and then it's gone, Like the flicker of a candle blown out by a child in an adult world, run away with the Humm of your breath, escaping into the night.
It's like quicksand running through my fingers, and I can see my time clock always feeling like it's running out, it's like a butterfly dancing into the deepest corners of my mind, running through a river of emotions and bursting through my
Mouth in a babble of awkward communication, freely flowing with everything that's been bottled
corked up and already set adrift in some running thought. All my
Mouth can conjure is a free flowing eclipse dabbed with bubbles of truth floating away to the surface of my sharp tounge.  And as the negativity cascades around me like a cloak of invisible emotion, the river runs from
my soul through my eyes, and the pain of crashing waves batters against my throbbing heart just willing you to take me in your arms, and plant a kiss on my forehead and tell me everything will Work out. But instead you're gone, like a whisper in my mind or my breath on this particularly foggy morning, and despite my frequent intakes and the river that won't stop running, I know that at the end of the day, that's all you wanted from me too.
 Feb 2015 Appointed
Patty
Prose
 Feb 2015 Appointed
Patty
I used to know a boy who loved to count. He wanted to contain the world in numbers. The seas and mountains he tried to manipulate using numbers. Seven, twenty-two, five thousand and forty, a million and more. He never stopped for he felt the world in his hands with the thought that his numbers lasted longer than anything on Earth. But one day, a shadow blocked the sun from his eyes while he was trying to count the leaves of a tree. He then gazed upon two beautiful eyes that made him forget the number of hairs he had on his little head. He gazed and gazed and in his amazement he didn't even bother to manipulate it using his numbers. This was something beyond his grasp. Something beautiful that he wanted to last forever. But one day, he opened his eyes to see not the beautiful eyes, but the world he kept atone in numbers. He was frantic. He no longer counted the things in the world for the world no longer matters. He searched far and wide for those two beautiful eyes to count their eyelashes and call them his own before he loses them completely.
Chris, a boy whose smile
Can make your heart melt
Like Ice cream on your face
Recipy for a great date;
-laugh so hard you snort
-shove ice cream in eachothers face
-chase eachother around a park
-Acting like you're 10 years old
 Dec 2014 Appointed
Farah Hizoune
Her heart is violent and true
Her teeth are always showing
A grimace or a smile
Three cheers to never knowing
Her soul is violet and blue
Her dependency is growing
Another word is penned from bile
The palest moon is glowing
Her body is strung out over you
Her blood is overflowing
short words that rhyme or something similar
 Dec 2014 Appointed
Fake Knees
Now I
never wonder
why
you call me
weak minded.
 Dec 2014 Appointed
Fake Knees
Note to Self-
Feed the possums in the yard
apart from the ghosts
in your mind.
Purge it back up
and flush it.
Descry it as
nothing more
than your *****
and spit.
Do not forget
to forget.
Note to Self-
You matter.
You matter.
You ******* matter to someone.
Quit feeling like ****,
you ******* matter to someone.
Note to Self-
Might as well give it up
or start over.
You've been starving
the possums in the yard
and your ghosts are polluted
with gluttony
as well as every other sin.
Knocking on the window to your mouth,
you continue to relapse
and welcome them back in again.
Note to Self.
 Dec 2014 Appointed
Fake Knees
I have good news!
I held down some food,
made amends with two wise books,
I fell asleep ****.
Today was filled with good news!
Tomorrow
I will fix my glasses,
wash the dishes;
cleaned my carpet.
Today was filled with "middle-of-the-road" news.
Staring contests with my ceiling,
I am ******* dejected from feeling
nightmares as my reality.
Where is the good news that ghosts
do not exist
but in the corners of the mind?
How I dread these long nights
of impersonating one who is healthy
because I showered
standing up
when I want to sit down.
Tonight was filled with questions without
answer.
By morning
it's good news that I pulled myself together.
I ate breakfast and I'm feeling
much better.
Now I can spend all day in the rain.
Today was filled with bright blues.
But wait!
Because I have more good news!
I am learning how to see clearly in the dark!
(I think.)
Oh it's just wonderful news
to know The Moon
and how to keep your wolves
at bay.
Today was just like every other day.
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