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Sarah Ann Apr 30
Your head is an egg on a hot sidewalk
Skull cracked and thrown to the gutter
Glimmering ooze of the soul exposed
White matter sizzling maddeningly
Big yellow eye staring, unseeing
Burnt, shrunken, stuck, *****
Endless summer, inedible novelty
Tsunami Mar 28
I find myself doing something
So minuscule
So mundane
That somehow my mind wanders to him
And I feel my heart break
A freshly cracked egg,
Just right for breakfast
i will always write of heart break
The alarm got us up before the sun fully awoke
we pulled our sleepy bodies out of bed
got on our grungies not even fixing coffee yet,
got our gear together in the pickup
and headed for the peninsula
where we hoped the sand bass would be schooling,
searching for some breakfast of worms or flashy things that looked to them like food.
If we were lucky we hooked a few which we would cook later
or save for the freezers back home.

When we got back to the campground
we’d comb our hair brush our teeth and head into town
for Pat’s Cafe who served the best biscuits, eggs, hashbrowns, and pancakes in the region
and if we were lucky Pat herself with her long black hair and **** lips
and substantial hips
would stop by and in her Texas twang and charm
she’d tell us about their farm
we’d speak of our wives
and some of the small details of our lives
and how we loved that large beautiful body
that sparkled and sang to us each spring
and how we savored dipping into Lake Whitney.

In late afternoon we would laze about the RV
discussing Theilhard and Jesus and Charlie
he’d speak of Bob Wills and we’d share
trying to make sense of the spirits there
and how they made us leap and soar.
We spoke in sync and explored
lines of novels, and fascinating texts
that made us eager to discover what was next
that would make us laugh or shed tears
of all those memorable years
we’d been brothers
afloat of the same waters
becoming men who hoped to make their mark
spark something good in the minds
of other seekers who also drank wines
fermented in corridors of learning
who had the same yearning
for knowledge and truth
embedded early and deeply in our youth.
Knit Personality Dec 2018
Give me a shot of eggnog!
    A shot of nog I beg!
Give me a shot of eggnog!
    The nog that's made of egg!
Give me a shot of eggnog!
    Or better yet—a keg!
Give me a keg of eggnog!
    And let me **** your leg!

Those involuntary thoughts of hurting yourself,
to cut yourself,
to tear your body to pieces.
To cry without restraint.
To scream so hard your voice breaks.
To break into chunks of fat and mold,
colliding onto the floor.
To dissolve in the ocean,
To self-combust;
To be born again and whole.
ffff, on my way there. grabbing some eggs and milk from the store. why did you want milk again? you know we never end up using it.
-October 8, 2018
I do not like green eggs and ham
They're nothing more than a simple scam
I will not try them on my feet
I will not bite them in my sheets
I dare not taste them in my grave
I'd rather die then let them save
The part of me strung up on rope
A simple meal shan't give me hope
That further times are not a sham
There is no peace in green eggs and ham

I will not try them in the dark
In my corner I am monarch
I rule my lands without your meal
An empty land where I do not feel
Your passion for a simple dinner
I'd rather die a lossless winner
I will not try your green eggs and ham
It is not truly who I am

I think thoughtless without a choice
A meal for one without a voice
Who am I to deny such a cause
An empty life without applause
Locked in cage I can not see
Why a meal should set me free
From burden I live in denial
Tell me Sam, what is your trial?
Why should I try your odd dish?
It could never grant me my sole wish

To abandon all that I hold dear
And take my life from me without fear
Do not pester me, Sam-I-Am
I insist that you scram
I shall lie here hungry and wish for solace
In belief that I am all but flawless
I fulfill the prophecy of who I am
I know not who the living ******,
But I know I do not like green eggs and ham
A bit of an experiment.
Diana Garcia Aug 2018
Thinking about a past lover
isn’t exactly the healthiest outlet
But it makes getting over you
a lot easier, I’ve got to admit.
I saw myself in you
I guess we’re more alike
than I ever knew.
World class pieces of ****,
Who don’t know when to shut the
**** up or quit.
I’m done recycling my hate.
I’m done with my Freudian fate.
I need to rise from these ashes.
Can’t set myself up for any back lashes.
I’ve never felt more self aware,
now all I gotta do is get up and out of here.
I think I’ve discovered my worse fears.
Mamas boys, becoming my mother.
No longer scared of getting beat on by my brothers.
All I gotta do know is stop thinking about my past lover.
Mind my business
Maybe go for a ride on my flying nimbus
I’d bring you along but your heart isn’t pure
Don’t come running back to me like I’m the cure
I’m sorry but your going to have to work it out on your own..
I’ve got my own demons to silence in this egg shaped dome.
We tried to date a very long time ago.. it lasted 2 months.. lol
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Confidence is going out in short shorts
With legs a gradient of egg white to fried egg
Too bad this yolk will not break
Trapped in the shell eternally.
Vexren4000 Jun 2018
Times spent,
In earnest with family,
Gathered around a table,
Eggs and waffle smells wafting,
Mother dashing cooking food,
Father reading the paper, having coffee,
School days,
times faded away,
Now resigned to eat alone most days,
Recalling times of simplicity,
As the same smells waft,
Through an empty home.

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