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aviisevil Dec 2014
Tim wasn't the only one infected,
But he was the only one who wasn't turning into a duck.
It had been more than two years of horror,
And almost every part of the world had been struck.

This new disease was carried through the shiny electronic devices,
That had gripped the world in a photogenic way.
Every wall and post reeked of the self centeredness,
And all that led to this last man standing scenario today.

Tim was resisting his fate by throwing away all the devices he could find,
But his hope was slowly degrading, as they were scattered everywhere.
He was experiencing what scientists called as a celebrity syndrome,
The last stage before he would give in, it was almost too hard to bear.

His soul was being crushed within his hundred dollar shirt,
But he was far more inclined to break the mirror in front of his eyes.
The disease was spreading through his arms and hands now,
And in sometime there would be no place left to hide.

Everyone at his school had turned into a duck the other day,
He had seen it from his own eyes, as all his friends got stuck on the web.
Scientists were baffled how it spread impervious of one's religion or faith,
They said the only part recognizable after the infection spreads is the head.

He found his moms name last night too, posted on the wall of lost people.
Tim could only rub his eyes, she was only fifty -five.
He had no clue of what to do, he was already feeling so miserable,
His father had already died, lost sister at twenty-five.

Tim was growing restless by the second, wrestling with his own arms,
But it was too much to handle and finally his hands got free,
He flashed the electronic device at the mirror, it felt warm,
And that's how Tim became the last casualty on earth to catch a selfie.
Notes (optional)
Tamara Rice Aug 2014
So bored
and so dead
that little monster I fed
and now she's fat,
full, and a little brat
she starves me
content on watching me bleed
making sure i drown in need
she burns and chokes me
I can't stop embracing her
the only piece of me I have
can't lose her in the cure
and I need to be so sure
so sure, My Love, you are
i'm kissing the killer
clutching my demise
keeping her close to my heart
she's with me always
my only company
she listens always
always, always, more always
she's killing me
i'm gonna cuddle her close
cause if I'm going down
I'm taking her along for the ride
"....Dead house of love! house of madness and sin, crumbled! crush’d!   15
House of life—erewhile talking and laughing—but ah, poor house! dead, even then;
Months, years, an echoing, garnish’d house—but dead, dead, dead."

Walt Whitman
Invocation Jul 2014
Oh the songs my heart hums of late are new to me...alas i wish this was so. but I used to hear others hum this tune when I was smaller and rebellious, with no taste of blood in my cheek or on my collar. now my hem is ***** and worn, and fractious memories of other lips pressed to mine... can i toss these and replace them with whatever texture your ****** forestry implies? nuzzles are tasteful, when my tongue is out dear. if only a precursor, let us wander (skirtless) and fitzpleasure abounding not even gently when we combine talents and hum to the moon the new songs we've learned from hating eachother.
(i only hate you for finding my heart and for making me give it to you) but i forgive you for not being here
run-ons from birdbones

— The End —