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Rune Sep 2018
I want to have you tattooed on me. In True size.
Every point copied; Pierced through my dermis and dotted under my skin. Line by line. Your soft curves imaged. The pretty picture you are.
The artist has to capture your look and feel.
Grasp the splendour of your character; without taking it from you whatsoever. You are far to untamable to be pinned down like that; there is a reason butterflies  are being framed and lionesses not.

Suddenly you stood there, and I was ****.
Nobody could forsee that I were yet to see a godess. They are not made as Beautifull as this anymore.
Seldom before and with greater exception after.
An attempt to translate stumbeled Words I drew in dutch with incomparable results and the question whether it is or isn’t a succes.
Alex Apr 2018
Think.
Think about the dot on the end of this sentence.
Now think about these words, this poem. How many dots can make up these words?
Now think about this-
You're more than a septillion times that.
One human out of 7.6 billion.
And that's just the humans.
That's a lot of dots.

(Hoping this information is right.)
beyond the reckoning
what was known
of me

castles from notes
they changed
my
title


they made me read them
he changes his mind
they went mad
who are they
throwing
dust
it
was

i jumping naked
it was I pulling ha it
in my madness
I have betrayed you
I lay broken in I's
that my tears flow could save my cheeks
from
the
fire

that I be found bound stitched
sewn deep into rose petal scents
that my word not cry out to my God
whos needs beyond mine
but yours


who's Father but mine
what adopted nations
of
slaves

that my mind be captured in you alone
what is desire from the dust
let me not blow spit bubbles as an child
forgive me for who I have chosen to become
we know that it is through our hope in faith peace is found

what is there beyond love but peace
what peace of mind do we have in want

my sentences shall change
these tearsdrops will turn to laughter
listen to the sea shells
you can hear
the
oceans
breaking waves
beyond the reckoning
?







...
..
.
the gushing sounds
of
the
...
..
.
that my life be played down
truck driven dreams
my heart
collapsed
in
his
hands

he holds me here
touching me there
she wrote to me
he never
left
me

she is swinging fences
of
jealousy
what has your love
to offer me
that jealousy
that's not for me
your friends in
jealousy

your speach
who are you

that I be approached as an child
I am but an flesh child
you cannot do that to me

razor bit slips
fresh little slits
ima man
now
am
i
an
other hit


not from the pipe
nor from your love
of
greed
we have
plucked
all our
roots
of
jealousy

surely that isn't me
voices
in
my
head
scream
from
the
cages


we have built for my insanity
that my life be played down
?











...
..
.
three
...
..
.
aylin Jun 2016
you paint over your freckles
that you used to like
before everyone else decided
you didn't
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