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 Feb 2014 Silver Wolf
A B Perales
Out of Liquor
and out of time.
It's 2 AM on
someday
thats not a
saturday.

Outside my window
racoons climb through
the fig tree feasting
like untamed
royalty on
the heavy hanging
fruit.

I rifle through
the cabinets
in search of a
bottle.
The cabinets are
bare and I know
this,
but the madness
says there's more.

There's a deep
red stain on
the scuffed and
peeling linoleum floor.
It's as red as
that flapping flag
of anarchy.
It's blood and
I know it
but I choose to
ignore it.

The bars have
all closed and I can
hear my neighbor
has brought the
party home
next door.

I despise the sun
but times like
these I beg the
Gods for it's
arrival.
For with the
awakening of
another day
brings the opening of the
liquor store
and my continuance
in the way of the
hardened soul.

My mornings began
just as empty as
my bottles
from the night before
and I see no
real reason to
stop it all
now.
To my dear orange princess

The slow sombre air is stifling
I wish sometimes it would be more exciting
There are no women in the room
Only females
I do not gaze upon any of these females with lust or attraction
I return to my much more exciting book
Suddenly a presence enters the room
I look up confused and my mouth drops wide open
There she stands the most beautiful thing that there can be
She stands there in an orange dress
Not suited for occasions such as this
But she makes it fit
Its perfect for her body
Her smile
Her glasses
Her hair
She is perfection
And I stare
She is so vivacious my heart starts beating so loud I expect people to look towards the sound
I continue staring at this beautiful creature
She looks at me then with a smile of bemused etiqutte she wonders what im doing
With a shock I realize she does not realize the beauty that she is blessed with
this is a travesty beyond comprehension
I will show her how her smile brightens the day
How her curve entices men
How her lips enchant every living creature on earth
I will show her or die trying
I will show her the orange princess
When the tears flow, there's no stopping them. The come cascading down, along with those chains you use to control your heart.
The tears you refused to cry so many times, because you wanted to be strong ,you wanted to be in control.
But did you know that in holding in those tears, pushing away those feelings only make them worse when they return?
Yes ,you did. So when you can't hide it on your own anymore, you turn to the bottle ,or anything that can numb your emotions.
And in that moment, that first gulp, or cut, or meal skipped, that is when the invisible tears start, and that is when I Wish I Could Cry.
This piece was written fot me by someone close to my heart. She saw eveything and wrote this. Funny that the most honest piece of writing about me was written by someone else.
Thank you Zoe my orange princess
 Feb 2014 Silver Wolf
Jeremy Bean
I liked feelings better
  back when I was too young to really
understand them.
  I have become too familiar to their touch
that once used to run chills down my spine
  and the ones I once impatiently awaited
Do not cut as sharp as they once did.
  perhaps its the memories
that paint a more vivid picture
  for that I am not sure.
 Feb 2014 Silver Wolf
Sara
Your smile weeps softly lit whispers
and your fingers entangle through my hair,
slowly blistering my scalp with false memories
of someone who
used to hold me
 Feb 2014 Silver Wolf
Sara
Untitled
 Feb 2014 Silver Wolf
Sara
Her eyes reminded me of Sunday afternoons,
Licked fingers turned to ash--
compelled to a numb and bleeding madness where
the presence of any tangible future was smoothed into
a small pebble held in the palm of her hand.
You cannot fix
a person with missing
pieces.

And I have
fallen apart
so
many
times,
the pieces don't even
fit anymore.

To live in
pieces of your remembrance, I
wonder
how tomorrow could
ever follow today.

Empty rooms,
noisier thoughts.

The edges
have begun
to ***** away
at my heart.

And it
bleeds words.
"How do you move on when you don't know how?"
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