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Wren Djinn Rain Sep 2015
See, it's like this. What I feel is dependent on what's real.
And I do to the people and things around me what it
takes to protect them and keep them intact. Most of
the time. Though in fact, doing to the tune of truth
isn't always the best act. You can't withhold what
others share, create or damage. You can withhold
what you share with others. And from you, my brother,
I do believe after reflecting til the present time, I
and you would have been fine if I had actually
stopped and thought about what actually was best.
But instead I stepped out of bounds you'd set
that I'd confirmed and said yes, to put my own
needs first in the name love -- something or other --
and not stop till I had your ex. You even confronted me
and said it wasn't a trip you could handle emotionally.
**** me. It was no accident, it remains that I could have
prevented an incident, now I'm ashamed of myself
for disrespecting another who discovered me young
and kept close, even when I couldn't keep my nose clean.
Maybe I can't, still. I'm sitting sipping at four hour old
coffee in a diner alone to still the upset. But I can't do.
I can't hold it in any longer. I've been a bad person
paying a part of the toll in deep regret. I can't forget
that I owe you more than I could ever say. That's
why I'm writing you on a legal tablet at midnight,
a dozen or more yellow pages with an empty pen
scratching holes bathed in the laserlight. I guess
I'm in the past again, writing you, groping for
parts I know must still be there to fill the holes
in my heart as hard as it is to admit cause I know
there's no redemption.
Paul Rousseau Apr 2015
There is more free space than matter
My zenith is far from touching land
A wing tipped by the ring of Saturn
The orb that many thought unmanned

My zenith is far from touching land
With a silken era of neon speed
The orb that many thought unmanned
The Guardians acknowledged their time of need

With a silken era of neon speed
A gaseous clash of friend and foe
The Guardians acknowledged their time of need
And songs of victory may never know
Austin Heath Apr 2014
I'd make art that wasn't the equivalent of processed
microwave food, without the "gourmet" label.
Then again equal validity in creation is only debatable
if you're an ******* who believes any of this has meaning.
If you're taking yourself seriously,
you're going to get ****** up by
the **** end of this joke; Art is more than these
observable qualities of reality. It is beyond us.
However, everything we are is made of the stuff.
We are art. Life is art. Life is meaningless
Art is meaningless.
We are meaningless. You.
You are meaningless as well.
Roll on snare... None of this holds real validity.
Abuse of cymbal.
In this lifetime I want so many things that simply
will not happen. She says my "dreams" are floaty
although I know I won't live to see them.
Life flies by so fast it's a wonder we don't get
tickets. I want light that moves at 40mph
and scorches on impact. Explodes like fireworks.
It should glow; green or blue.
I'd use it to cook these dinners,
burn these notebooks,
**** these mother
******* guitars.

— The End —