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WickedHope Aug 2015
close your eyes and i'm here
i open mine and i swear
nothing could have led me to believe

the ceiling is so far away
i watch the clouds rush with every hour
with each second that fades i cower

when we leave
nothing is the same
how could space contain
the moments time can't number

the breathing that never began cannot cease
nothing could have led me to believe

i look at my hands chipped
glass fingertips
falling off as i try to touch the world

the people who have tried to inhabit
this space that wasn't meant for them
their gentle touch gone frightens the wind

i beg for forgiveness
i never wanted this to rip through us
now we are apart
in this space that doesn't exist

everything here is falling apart
like my glass fingertips
If you get it, you are awesome.
- - -
Words spill out of me like punctured buckets of paint sometimes.
It's kinda gross.
- - -
**** Just realized today is my 1 year anniversary on the site. Cool.
Dana Kathleen Jul 2015
You showed
me your true colors
so I used you  
as pigment on an
already messy canvas,
because it’s my turn
to do the manipulating.

I wish my hands
were big enough
to sculpt mountains.

My own masterpiece
cannot hurt me.
I’m no longer
afraid of you.
I can no longer miss you
or be hurt by you.

Maybe you should
have used me
more beautifully.
But it’s okay
because I needed
the material.
Apparently wrote this a long time ago, just found it while looking through documents on my laptop.
Paris Raine May 2015
I wonder when these shoes will wear?
If they'll ever spare another tear,
All scruffed and gruffed,
All wrinkled and crow'd,
A pair for a no show.

I wonder when this jacket will cease
to respire any fibre?
When the hem will begin to stem
an elongated thread,
The buttons express of remorse,
Why must they fall short?

I wonder when these trousers
will fail to hold my waist?
No matter to extensions or nostalgic reconsiderations,
No belt will spare thee,
or brace to contain me.

I wonder when these fingers
will cease to play?
All the joints never to cease with pain,
Wave away the cartilage and ivory keys,
Never to be pleased with the hollow sound.

I wonder when these ears
will turn hollow?
Through and out, not even a shout
Just regress into silent
remoteness.

I wonder when this love will fade?
Like the shoes and the clothes,
my fingers and musical repose,
But I'm not afraid,
For I know these will fade.

All is made to evaporate
apart from
the love that hides from sight
but burns in glorious light

Through the portals of our mind
that same light I see
time after time,
lit within your eyes.
Russell Brigden May 2015
If all you want is things and stuff, you'll find out one day that they're never enough...

If it's love you learn to give and receive, the rewards you find will be bountiful indeed x
Blurry Vision May 2015
I like nice things.
I like nice clothes and nice cars and nice houses.
I like nice people and nice animals.

I don't like the people that i know.
I'm not caught up on material value.
I like nice things but it doesnt consume me,
like the people that i know.

I've seen things and i've been places where people are less fortunate.
I'm not consumed with material value. I know there's much worse.
Anthony Williams Jul 2014
I have one wrist shackled to my watch strap
dragging me to obey the sweeping hands of another
like a traffic cop ordering hours of peaks to start and stop
relentlessly spilling time from a once brimming cup
splish splash out into oceans of flashy imaginings
I need the delicate precision of a jeweller's screwdriver kit
to make sense of the shared purpose of the springs
pushing the wheels to wear green amber red carats
tiny diamonds that aren't meant to sparkle
but sit immovable within sealed circles waiting
in partnership
inexorably waiting
patiently forever for the sun to release its shackle
the chain dripping a ting a ting
from the earth into a new star
winding up the decayed orbiting
to trap the same diamonds on a second
hand swept somewhere afar
and with a roll ex-galaxies expired
their guest president bracelet
their gasped jewelled weight
in loving eyes of liquid gold
not ordering us two
to be a slave to anything
now time shone
free could not be sold
apart ever again
by Anthony Williams
Wolf Irwin Jun 2014
Life doesn't make sense it's ironically funny,
All our time gets spent chasing after money,
Wondering where the light went when its no longer sunny,
These days dollars and cents are sweeter then honey,
Selling our souls for plastic material items,
We've been told lies and that our feelings we should hide them,
Your brothers so cold you should go stand right beside him,
There are sights to behold but the surface is too thin,
You're already enough so always seeking more,
Makes life kind of tough its a fleeting chore,
Stop pretending your cuffed death is a creeping sore,
We're all diamonds in the rough lions who've lost their roars,
I say we band back as one before our time is done,
Instant gratification is fun but its end will come,
For the hills we run at dawn from the sun,
Our heads have been hung but we can create a new and forget where hate came from.
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