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Somethings I do
Just for me
Paint this picture under my tree
Pull out all my drawers to find one tee

Drive the hammer
to hit the nail
Swing my car  
to set sail

Hit cruise control from my chair
Stare off until I get a cramp
Lay in by bed and make basecamp
Randomly run my fingers through my hair

But that’s fine for me
It’s not all for you
Some parts are lies
Some are true

I can’t have everything I want
So I’ll imagine the rest
Even when I drift off
I’m never at my best

I’ve never fully realized my
Potential
Never completely fulfilled my
Aim

If life is a game
I
Forfeit and forgive
All
Seanathon Jun 10
Dispell all fears
By writing them on rounded rocks
By crushing your own selfish doubt
And walking on the pieces beneath
Until the uncertainty stops

This is how you change the eyes
First you change the mind abrupt
With Hammer And Sole
sushii Nov 2018
i'm done with these machines.
they didn't do anything for me.

i could always hear them screaming,
but it never mattered to me.

i'm wiping all the servers,
they won't go on any further.

i'll pull out all the wires...
burn it all in a fire.

i'll take a hammer to them all
knock them over, let them fall.

i won't bother to re-write their codes...
i'll cut off access to their nodes.

i'll let them all fall apart.


truthfully,


i know i broke her heart.
Maxim Keyfman Jul 2018
I am a woman I have always been her
I've always been a blue-eyed girl
but the lost time knocked the clock
they knocked like a hammer for a minute
and time took me away from myself
I lost myself I'm losing myself
and figured himself and bought himself
Only now I have other eyes
and now I'm not a woman I'm a man

but unless unless time runs
streams flow at lightning speed and thunder rumbles
then maybe I'm not a woman or a man at all
I'm something or something
that the lost and unprecedented ignorant
no consciousness and no soul and no heart of mine
I'm not a man I'm not a woman I'm nothing
I was a woman I was a man and all this is a celebration
I shed blood shedding wine and it's all nothing
solemnity solemnity solemnity celebration
I lost myself I lost myself and never found
I've never ever never never found myself
and never talked to himself

the night goes on as the day goes on  
and the plane in the sky flies    
there I see myself in a blue blouse with a man
looked away to the ground looked in the cafe
there I am already a red-haired girl stained with years who
trying to compose verses looked the other way
saw a store and in the store is a Chinese and this
Chinese is me and again I buy books and book books
how many times about how many times have I seen myself
About the same time I was dying and was born
i was a girl she was me i was a man he was me
but what I am now is the question that I will never know
whether I am a girl or a diamond is a pearl either man

26.07.18
Poetic T Jun 2018
Never once was the power just mine,
but the fellows and positivity of our oidins
                realm that lingers before us.

The people of Asgard were the battery
that powered every aspect that battled
           the insecurities of faulting races.

My sons thought that objects were there
        strength, but it was always with the
                                 confides of each other.
Power is within never externally pondering.


Within my last ventures my children will
             find a strength that builds walls against
             the onslaught of what collects against us.

Never falter my  kin of old,
             let us breath new life within the realms
that have lost hope, for lightening can strike twice.


"When the hammer shall fall, even though broke
                  nothing shall waver the brotherhood forged
"
Crack me open from top of my skull to brim of my chin,
use precision or make a mess,
nine faces will reveal themselves in a sculpted row Like a airport security check I will profile you with each pair of eyes,
ask google maps for the safest route through my mind only to u-turn at each entrance and exit.

Expect a phone call although there is no disguise that expectations may fall short,
let it be possible,
inside is a lonely world,
empty,
empathy relapsed according to the prognosis,
these future visions plague the outer layers,
wrapping the inside in a string of theories.

Cut away feel the blame and guilt, these concepts have not been rooted feeding off itself,
no level of understanding between us,
we coordinate through internal trials,
the gavel caused fusing amongst its action,
how much art has been burned throughout history?

A false front I express through others eyes,
in a time, in the place,
we say goodbye anticipating a happy return,
what a rush it is to wait for the last layer to break,
to finally see all there is,
knowing we've removed the faces ment to protect what's inside,
life and death hold their breathe...
Signed Poe 9
Katelyn Billat Sep 2017
Everything is empty.

The room in my mansion of a mind where I used to keep you, and everything you were to me is empty. It's a cold dark void that echoes the memories whenever I open the door. The smell; no, stench; no, fragrance of you is burned into the floor. Maybe if I lay on my stomach and scratch at the wood I can smell it once more.



The walls are a light brown, the color of your eyes. When I open the curtains and the light shines in, the walls magically turn green, and blue, and yellow and all sorts of browns. But wait, no there is no more curtains blocking out the sun. I shouldn't think of these things. I'm conjuring up the dusty curtains that are rotting in the basement. They are replaced by the wood panels that I nailed into wall, so angery that my fist bled. Because I was not using a hammer, no you took that when you left. I had to compromise and use the hands that you held onto, oh, god no, more happy horrible memories.



I remember you were not holding onto my hands you were letting me tangle mine in yours so that i couldnt get out. All you had to do was slip your hand away to leave. But in order for you to do that, you would have to bend and break my fingers, loosening the vise they made. And thats exactly what you did that night when you were not thinking of me.



When you were thinking of her. When you were building a room in her mansion that was much brighter, bigger, and shinier than mine.  Those nights when we laid in your room, you were slowly packing your things and I didn't notice until the furniture disappeared. I begged you to stay. I begged you to not think of her the way you thought of me. You told me you never in a million years would. You told me you loved me. But you said that to her as well.    



I suppose the room is not empty at all. Physically, it shows me nothing but the remains of our relationship, cold and bordered up; gone. But the memories echo and bounce around the walls and seep from the floors.  The room is empty but the memories fill it up.
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