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statictitanic Oct 2014
The paper is empty
blank, white, fragile
But the city is impossible to color
Each part of this picture requires specific, individualism
the smell of nuts sold in the small vendor carts
The words 5th Ave written on a street sign
but pronounced like its on a plaque
The rush of hot air when the train rushes away
warming you on days nature places her cold, bitter burden over you
Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens
heard on the news too often
No need to film movies here,
when the movie is the one we are in, and the wounds are real
Staten Island, forgotten most times
Hazy and far, isolated from everyone
And then there's Manhattan
clean streets but flawed history in the sidewalk

There's too much going on
I still don't know what to write
In this bustling city
A pen is not enough
So I leave my paper empty and let the blankness tell the story of
New York
statictitanic Oct 2014
It's the flame that burns through each layer of skin
if you resist, you can try to save yourself from these sins
It's bottled upon the top cabinet, to the right, in the left side of the kitchen,
next to the cabinet there's a window
letting the hazy skyline fill in the unspoken words from your lips
You can try to conceal these wrongs, drink away this burning flame
but the ashes will always remain.
Look, and walk around, the cursive words
scribbled on the doors of bathroom stalls
abandoned buildings to sinful to care who desecrates them any further
Soon, you don't have to see but hear
the drying throat, hope to swallow more doubt into the pit of hell.
The longer you bear this pain, the more time will reach its last hour
and when the world has shut the door on your face
leaving you in limited space
these secrets will be written on your arsenic bones
and all that will remain is the secrets heavy in the New York air.
statictitanic Oct 2014
The twisted truth escapes your mind
when you’re intoxicated with the lies
You can't run, hide beneath the black sheets that console you
You are cold, alone, nowhere to go
Emptiness boiling your blood to release the virus
But once upon a time, a few tragic lives ago
You remember the whispering wind
Light that tolerated the unforgettable future at the palm of your hands
Simple happiness seen through the transparent smiles
So foolish to think this desecrated world would grant mercy to feelings
And then your stuck once again, the mosaic stained glass shapes like an hourglass carving distance faster
The few seconds to feel when the Utopian world slips and
cuts you like a paper cut
So you remember picturesque scene but not a perfect world
  Oct 2014 statictitanic
Nathan Pival
As I lay down
To fall into slumber
In a gentle land
*******
Yellow Jacket
Stung me in my hand
Tonight not insomnia
Nor caffeine
Or even the troubles I keep
Kept me from my sleep
The little *******
Hid under my pillow
Doing his best
Waiting and plotting
To steal my peace
And much needed rest
I usually keep the peace
And let nature be free
But tonight I made an exception
And I killed that ******* bee
  Oct 2014 statictitanic
Izzy
I have committed the eternal sin,

As I write to you with blood running down my arm,
I  beg you to forgive me
for leaving you with this mess
but,
as my final words leave my lips,
I become victim to those forty seconds.
statictitanic Oct 2014
I walk through the streets smiling
They don't know anything
Pastel lipstick and white teeth
They really can't see
And they wouldn't ever believe
I'm dying inside
Because I can't play this charade any longer

But for know I'll smile
And force my tongue to let out
the bitter lies.
statictitanic Oct 2014
In this city the bright lights can blind you
let you forget the rustic coins littered around the floor
caught by grimy hands belonging to a woman
she holds her life on a thin piece of cardboard
written in faded Sharpie

If you ever lose your way with the crowd
and stumble upon the empty alleyways
they possess cracked glass from beer bottles,
old shopping advertisements, broken toys
and the stench of trash mixed with lost hope realizing
the pavement isn't always perfect but littered with cracks

Walk further down and you will pass the rejected streets,
houses gone foreclosed and no remorse
all that matters is the country's history,
pressed on notorious green paper belonging to greedy hands
forgetting about the family that lost their house

Wait at the train station,
for the rumble and two yellow lights
The snake of a train claims passengers
trapping them between closed doors,
only allowing them to face their own misery
some escape with headphones
others just stare into the darkness with sunken eyes and drunken sighs

Walking home see the gum wrappers and dead leaves skid around
the soles of your worn shoes
Graffiti garage doors only display discarded art
And when the night is still
you can feel the empty consonants and vowels crawl up your legs
forming the unspoken words from unwanted voices that lay

Hidden under our feet.
In my creative expression class we read Italo Calvino's *Invisible Cities* and then we had to describe NYC, so this is just my piece. Hope you enjoyed it.
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