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TPS Feb 19
And so I’ll live with you inside this day dream we’ve spun
Where innocence dies every night
And I wake to the delicate view of your eyes
This made-for-television screens type of infatuation
I’m always tipsy and you’re always begging for more
No bad feelings or thoughts of what’s to come
We only have the music and our two tongues  
With each fleeting moment, we paint our canvas of desire
Igniting flames that flicker, burning with a passionate fire
Once we mature we forget about tricycles
Leave it to the less mature mind
A plaything for children
Maybe I should forget about tricycles
A remnant of the past I can’t forget
Holding to childlike fantasy
I don’t really think anyone likes tricycles
Cumbersome and slower than a bike
Not practical by any sense
When would we even use tricycles
Maybe a clown at a circus
A child down a hill before scraping its knee
Perhaps one day I’ll let go of tricycles
Hands off the handlebars arms held out
Riding a bicycle into oblivion
At least I’m self aware if nothing else, what more can ya ask for
TPS Feb 13
I dreamt up a fantasy
and spoke you in front of me
Something real
Something tangible
Now I’m left with these thoughts
These god awful feelings
I’ve made you out to be this thing
This salvation piece
Bound to the wreckage of my home
An escape in the form of blue eyes and soft skin
But you’re made of taking my lace off on the floor
And “You look like you could use another pour.”
I attempt to put you back in the box I pulled you from
You stick between my fingers like a thick golden honey
The sweetness lingering on my tongue as I try to get clean
There’s something in your eyes when I bite back
I think I’m the one doing the saving
What a mess we’ve made
Zywa Jan 17
Sometimes I hear bells

ringing, high in the blue sky --


blue aerial bells.
"Maurits en de feiten" ("Maurits and the facts", 1986, Gerrit Krol), § 3

Collection "On the fly"
Nylee Jan 4
Grab my hand, barge in my fantasy land
Freak me in, freaked out me
It's like a convergence of parallel realities
Combined to be the one
Sunny side up, Moony side comes
Pacing with different lengths
Crossing roads, holding hands.
It's a plus score, to match wavelengths
Scheming and unscheming
Unscrewing and ******* up the plans
Now it is out of controlled ideology
what becomes of we.
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