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Do I dance through your head like an ancient melody,
so distinct and historic, yet repeated traditionally?
Do I sing through your ears like a blue bird's pretty song,
so constant in the morning, promising from dusk to dawn?
Do I twinkle in your eyes like a midnight moon's glimmer,
so steadily, heavenly bright, reflecting like a lakeside's shimmer?
Do I do all of these things like there is no other routine?
It's funny how even distance can't halt a fond heart's memory.


Haven't written in a while. It feels good to write a few words again.
BiStarr 3d
Part 1

I walk by you every day
Do you see me?
The bell sounds off and the noise reminds me of when I sit alone after school in a soundproof room
Where I should be practicing piano
I sit. It is not long before it happens again
The constant ringing of silence
Ringing, piercing, bursting, my eardrums

First period
You rub your back against a cold locker
Our eyes meet but of course, I pull away quickly
Why would I continue to look if I know that it will just get me in trouble
And put me in more pain
And dig my hole of misery
deeper than it should go
The science teacher greets me with a smile
I smile back
kind of
There is just enough time to glance back
to see you being shoved by your ‘friends’
into the Geometry classroom
right across from me

Second period
My hopes go up
as this is the only class we have together
but I quickly stomp them down
Thinking these irrational thoughts won’t do anything
And I know that
I try not to stare as you change into the short shorts
which reveal your underwear as you sit
(The short shorts that are acceptable for physical education.
The short shorts that wouldn’t be acceptable if it were to be any other color or fabric, because it would be too short)
I forge a note
Skip class
Return your phone
because you left it so irresponsibly on the football field
Nobody bothered taking it
This is part 1. part 2 will be out later when i have time

Do I still make your heart beat forth and back
Do I still make your sky blue or black
Do I still have a place in your heart
Or insecurity has shattered the place; since I'm afar
Do I still have a home in your heart
Or the house that we built 's being torn apart
Do I make your sky cloudy; or do I make it rain
My love never change; but do you still love me the same
Am I still the star that beautify your moon
Am I still the petal that make your flower bloom
If I fall; will you catch; or I'd better get a parachute
Am I stranded; or do you consider me your pair-of-shoe
Is the fences still secure; hoping I'll come home soon
Or someone else's has occupied my most beloveth room
Am I still the groom that you wished could make you bride
Am I still your man; am I still your pride
Am I still your armour; am I still your guard
Am I still your downfall and the same time your rise
Am I still number-one; or I'm number-two
Probably I'm number-none; maybe there's number-new
Am I still the fuel that ignite your fire
Am I still the tonic that your blood inquire
Am I the guarding light that guides you in the dark
Do I contain your treasured home or I'm just a shack
I wish I am; coz without you my day is dark
I wish I am; coz you're the lense that keep my vision sharp
I wish I am; coz you're the art that keep my demon sealed
I wish I am; coz you're wishful than a million wish
I wish I am; coz you're the rhyme to my every line
I wish I am; coz you're the calmness to my weary mind
I wish I am; coz I feel appease with the thought of you
I wish I am; coz if I'm not; then I'm just a fool
I am broken. So apart.
I am falling in life. My best friend is the dark.

I yell. Do you want me. Do you want me. To my mum.
I yell do you love me. Do you love me.
Because I dont love me too.

I wanna be in the rain.
So yoy can not see the tears roll down my face.

We hide in all our depression.
Hiding from the light. That we try to invision.
like the man who was risen.
WE TRY TO SEE, How we can have our own salvation.

I yell. Do you want me. Do you want me. To my mum.
I yell do you love me. Do you love me.
Because I dont love me too.

I wanna be in the rain.
So yoy can not see the tears roll down my face.

I am so far. From life. No light. Just dark. Id ****. Someone. Like i am inside. I am not well. Ive come undone.

I had a love. Now lie. I was alive. Now im dead inside.

I yell. Do you want me. Do you want me. To my mum.
I yell do you love me. Do you love me.
Because I dont love me too.

I wanna be in the rain.
So yoy can not see the tears roll down my face.
how do you know (when a broken human can be fixed)


supermarket checkout line, so lazy broken down dressed,
I’m probably arrestible for disturbing the peace,
my haired piled, and held together by a broken clip,
makeup at home in
a drawer labeled ‘why bother’
my t shirt, don’t please look too closely,
yesterday’s coffee spillage outline
only mostly gone,
and the skinny jeans that felt inappropriate
ten pounds ago,
now looking semi-completely ridiculous

is this a tv show?
wallet, a twenty and a single,
who knew a pound of ground blue mountain
cost the better part of the the twenty
in that case no need for a gallon of milk
and *** a box of chocolate frosted donuts
evidence of a guilty plea of irresponsibility resignation

short $2.42 (cut up the credit cards)
and no convenient pit to fall into
when the teenager cashier snickers,
when a sam elliot voice says here ya are,
stammering a no, a thank you, and thinking getaway direction

truck safely, made it,
knock on the window
sam elliot soundalike is a lookalike as well
standing outside with my wallet in hand,
two heads taller than my ex-petite figurine

more stammering ******* could I look any stupider

but inside a piece of brown shopping bag torn
with ten whole digits
I’ve never seen prior to this disaster
saying call when you want to return my $2.42

turns out he got, no, he is glue and paste,
an eraser man for fine lines and sad times,
and a lasso to keep me held together,
a pocket red handkerchief hanging half out
of his back pocket, never without, calls it his tear catcher

pulled out that too tight blues-blouse
from back of my closet
that still complements my complexion,
wear it ever time that day rolls around

just dumb luck ain’t much of an answer
so I’ll rephrase, dumb luck is in the everything
cause his number was 917-242-2424
and he is a gambler in matters of the heart

bust his ***** when he says he’s a lucky man,
reply he ain’t got no luck at all
compared to me on that daft day

and every daft day thereafter
I glue his lips shut to mine, no escaping,
and paste a new $2.42
into his wallet
when he is sleeping mine,
no erasing our lines,
just redrawing them deeper and finer,
just making sure my
dumb luck is working overtime
mermaidinCLE Oct 10
drawing a thin line
all the things I want to say
you don’t want to hear
Lauren M Oct 6
In blurry confusion voices pierce through, saying
“What do you want?” and “what do you want?”
Blundering, I can’t find my way out of the crossroads quickly enough.
First to know where I am, to know whether I am buying or selling,
threatening or begging. To haul myself off a flashing screen
or a stranger’s dreadlocks as a thousand lines intersect
and cross, stripes on top of stripes as the smells
of sewage and street food intermingle,
and the resulting discordant din.

Then to recognize myself amidst the crowd long enough to ask
what do you want? What do
I want? And when I answer,
do I hear my own voice coming as though from a distant well?
As one note in the hubbub and burble of the human sea?
And do I skim my words like **** from a pond’s surface?

I have not closed my eyes but I have stopped looking through them.
Randomly thawing long enough to realize where I am:
somewhere suffocating, somewhere that closes around the throat
like sea foam: soft, but endless. Scattering
my eyes across all the eyes that bob up and down,
passing and crossing like ships in the dark.
So numb I did not even notice I was drowning.

In the lull, rising to consciousness, breaching the surface
as though for a breath of air. Reconnecting with
and remembering which person I currently am,
and what this person wants: just to be free.
To shake off whatever numbness blended my voice
with the music and chatter and discord of this place
and blurred my face, making me an anonymous limb
attached to a much larger body.
Only now realizing the irony of that condition.
The eerie irritability
Of this disgustingly demeaning state
I find my myself in,
The essence of my existence,
Every bit of what creates me,
Grosses me to my very core
It's a phase, a recurring feeling.
Only once in a while,
this once in a blue moon sorta thing
Makes simply existing a chore.
The minor failures,
Become large enough to make me forget,
All other achievements I worked for.
This face turns quite simply, ****
As my pride and self respect slowly rots
I turn into a hallowed figure, crawling
Wanting help; support,
Clinging to the first thing I find.
Worst of all,
I know it only last a few days
And when it's gone,
I'm empty again.
Is it my need for approval,
My weak character,
Can I not stand on my own.
What has all this come to?
Oh look, it's that point in my life. Again
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