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Alexa Dark Nov 2014
The last cigarette burning in my hand
I slowly inhale all the bad inside
It's burning my lungs and I hope
That my heart wil turn into ash too
What heart?
Touché
Clindballe Oct 2014
The happiness left like the smoke from her lungs and vanished in the air. The only thing she could feel was her insides burning, as if she has never burned before. But her heart had been on fire more times than she could count. Even with fire-alarms ringing she did not stop, and at night when her eyes were drowning, she would empty more bottles than she could count. She would drink until liquor started pouring from her eyes. She left a trail of ashes and empty bottles, leading to her newfound happiness, only to never be found.

*When it was too late she wanted to be a mathematician.
Written: October 26. - 2014
Asa D Bruss Oct 2014
Hold the lamp shade for me dear, I have need of it's feather-dusted stature.
Tell me closely the refrains of that song you've killed me with so many times.
Does it not go like this?:
"Smokey softly smokey like a cloud unworthy to be turned around.
Smokey softly smokey everything is burned down to the ground."

Let the fire in those words drip like lava down your chin.
The burn-holed beginning of my baker's street body
that baked all my fears alive; cleansed of it.

The race of men with their flaming tempers makes for quite a study.
The quantity of corruption found within.
Their stated lusts
in fires burnt,
their corpses left to ash.
Great fires fought by careful study;
yet the fire fought will always win.
Obviously this one has a bit of a theme to it.
J Super Star Oct 2014
Ash
I get it.
I really do.
She is an ocean
of life--stories within
stories live within her.
Stories of lives
spanning far and forever.
That's why you love her,
why you went away.

I'm just ash.
I'm full of nothing,
I'm full of sorrow.

I get it.
I really do.
Patrick Sugarr Oct 2014
while everyone else
is crashing and burning
all i'm getting
is ash.
EDB Oct 2014
I've never known a more subtle
Base.
Where thrills were chased
through foggy winter  Rain.

Our love, Sparked Dawson's rage.
His ire brewed in Winnebago,
Dark.
As were the night at
Ash Place Park.
Our secret stored
in one neon
Marker;
Waved under the noses
Of those who were
Sharper.
Erin Atkinson Oct 2014
.        Child of the stars
                Chaos, incarnate,
      hold your heart still.
          Your
             Tiny
              Perfect
          Human
   Existence;
        My king of a mountain of Ash.
                                                            ­         You
are the song you couldn't write
      and it's frustrating
                                         because you
are still standing.
        Still Breathing.
                             Wild
                       Hurricane
                  Heart,
I didn't know that stars
                       Could break
         before I met you.
Poetic T Sep 2014
What happened, what became,
As I walked through
Footsteps of ash
On a polyester floor,
The door opens
Footprints,
Disappear,
Invisible,
As had never been there,
I'm perplexed as my fingers
Feel like spider silk entangled
But nothing is visible,
I ascend the stairs
My hands guild me,
Rooms bear
Naked
Stripped
Exposed
Floor boards, walls different
"What happened"
I was only but gone a day,
Temper flares,
I awaken in the dinning room
Dust unsettled,
As if from a height I fell,
I manage to steady myself
Disorientated,
Confused,
Questioning
What is happening,
I gaze at the stairs
Palm prints  saturate
The walls,
Ash fading imprints
Evaporate,
Erode,
Dissipate
And gone as before,
I look upon a mirror
I see the house as before,
Warmth radiates
I turn but boards greet my gaze
"I scream"
And the mirror cracks
But only silence was heard,
Then I realise I am but a
Memory in the
Halls,
Rooms,
Floor,
I see my self fade
A last memory of a house
That like everything
Had its place,
And like the footprints,
Hands upon a wall,
I fade away,
The last memory of house
That crumbles around me.
"They say memories last forever"
But never again will there be any in these halls.
When this city burns to the ground,

I’ll be there, holding your hand,

As it all slowly turns to ash,

And the memories float to the stars.

Leaning my head on your shoulder,

Looking up at your eyes,

I’ll see the blaze flickering in them,

And I will smile softly,

And you will smile down at me,

And we will gaze proudly upon our accomplishment.
Pug Rollins Sep 2014
Dust you came from
"Under all this stress?"
Stressing is what most people do
That is still where you came from.

And you will return to ash, too.
"So? I can just keep kicking."
Hell if you don't, and I encourage it.
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