Tired thoughts have taken over
Slacking on grammar
Word choice
Sentence structure
Originality
Plausibility
But you're still quick
And loud
In my sleepy brain and heart

People. Places. Things.
The later of which is unnecessary. What do things do other than
clutter cloud and confuse?
They bury and hide the People and Places.
It is them that build the memories, the stories
It is them that provide reason

Most is goodest
All is bestest
If you're a grammar ****
Than you should be a written paparazzi

You asked me my name in your first remark
We sat on opposite ends of a question mark
You were dashing - made me pause,
me, this independent clause
standing alone,
I made sense on my own
But I answered you anyway.

Ellipses.

Now you are the verb in my heart’s contraction
I am the subject and you are the action
An Interrogative with a Declarative reaction
An Exclamatory and then an Imperative attraction

Ellipses.

Your lips ease
Me, the direct object of your affection,
but never sentenced to an apostrophe’s possession
perhaps more true- a plural “s” suggestion
and the excitement behind an exclamation point’s inflection

The semi-colon understands
We can be on our own, but we want to stand
together
where our letters
aren’t fetters,
but the typesetter’s
better measure
of linguistic pleasure.

We communicate through metaphors and similes
Like the birds and the bees
We speak across homophone lines
to keep a census of our senses at all times
Because words said aloud have allowed
us to find meaning behind the utterance of sound-
mere words and phrases
jumping off of pages
into brain and heart and soul
when the parts become a whole

And with the syntax, punctuation, grammar, and usage
I’m a hopeless semantic always trying to ****** it
Language- yours I understand through the myriad.
Words can’t capture you. Period.

don't pay too much close attention
to the rhymes and the flow
write from your heart
let it spill out
relentlessly
that is the most pure
of our words
raw emotion
who needs writing devices?

маленькая сестра , маленькая сестра , почему ты спрячься подальше ?
Ты красивая. Вы золото .
Не Поверите ли вы его и сделать как ваш сказал ?
Он говорит вам правду , но вы не поверили ему . Подумайте, он бьющий ложь , что привело вас без причины.
Он говорит вам правду , ты прекрасна , ты принадлежишь в своей постели .
Вы больше, чем просто тело к нему , ты его сердце и место для отдыха его усталую голову .

One more life painful injection
I might give this shiny knife a chance
That’s why no more time for me to learn
The right steps of my pens dance

I always let this dagger, two steps behind my ink
That’s why every of my poetry, got some flaws to mend
No more instance for me to study, the perfect language rules
Because the time of my life itself, nearing the very end

No time again, no time at all
The deficiency in my quill, I cannot bend
No time to heal my defective poems
Because my life itself has a lot of flaws to tend

11/10/2015
Mysterious Aries

I misread
a lot of you's
I proofread most of your mistakes
you ****** at grammar

I silently made my red pen dance
on your blue inscriptions
that you thought
were unique

I scratched the wrong words
I indented your run on's
I even added a bit of sincerity  
to all your reality

I stepped back and looked at you
you were blotches of red on scribbles of blue
you were a mistake
that I thought I could fix
at the end of the day,
I took that paper crumpled it
and aimed at the trash
and scored

My red pen yearned for correcting many more
but my red pen gave up scratching
and wanted to create its own story
of its very own mistakes
of its own doing,
so it can create a masterpiece of
"me"

But I'll correct the **** out of their grammar.