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"There's a target on your back,"
said the man in striped white socks and flip flops.
He swung his arms freely and slapped his face
accidentally or intentionally--his illness wasn't mine to name.

The trees wrapped their arms around one another in a huddle.
"Quick she's coming near. The target is close."
One. Two. Three. Birds flew by and splashed my forehead.
I looked back and felt one of the trees wink and point ahead.

A man on a moped waited until my back was turn and I bent down.
Whistle. Whistle. Head turn back ninety degrees.
You'll get in an accident, I thought; I secretly wanted,
his helmet-less head splat flat on the concrete, skin burning,
melting, bubbling, pooling in a puddle.

The red doors whined against my insistent grasp.
When I found my white door, I air twisted the **** that was
pushed back to show the open space inside the coolness.
I didn't live that cold. I didn't know how.
He did. And he reached into my freezer and removed his tongue.
I sank onto the floor and felt ice hit me my cheeks and my eyes and ears.
The blankets couldn't warm me. My tears couldn't melt what formed.

He tossed my key on the mat, kicked back dust into my face;
looked me square in the eyes frozen wide open, mouth gaping for air.

"I put a target on your back. See ya."
Amanda Francis Jun 2016
To me you’re a mystery that I must know everything about!
I want to watch as sleep becomes your shape and my world rests.
To lay in your presence and hear the words that fall from your lips like petals.
For the butterflies in my stomach can’t resist the nectar of your mind.

When our fingers are entwined, I can’t deny that we are made of stardust.
For you planets would align, Day and Night would take a back seat to watch you shine.
For you are a supernova to which no supernova can compare!
So I grapple with metaphors and similes’, though I know explaining your beauty is akin to breathing without air.

We kissed in all the beautiful places and you planted seeds in my mouth.
Between my teeth a garden of blood-stained white roses grew.
Nothing is safe in the vastness of time, in your eyes a flood to rip us asunder.
My body bares scars from your thunder and I know why storms are named after people like you!
Brother Jimmy Jun 2016
I am a machine
How 'bout that
I ought to run lean
But I am not clean

Ran over a cat
Made quite an impression
My passenger spat:
"That feline is flat"

Intake, compression
Ignition, exhaust
Here's my confession
(Oh what an obsession)

And what is the cost
For sweet release?
For toxins tossed?
Redeem what is lost

I ****, squeeze,
Bang, blow...
Forget to say please,
Run hot with ease

My fluids are low
I'm 'bout to run dry
A gasket might go
And oil won't flow

Oh why even try
This machine is obscene
My insides will fry
And soon I will die
Just playing with rhyme scheme
ABAA BCBB CDCC ...xAxx

"**** squeeze bang blow" is how you remember the four stages of an automobile engine... Intake (****), Compression (squeeze), Ignition (bang), Exhaust (blow).  I always loved that.  The fact that it sounds **** really helps you remember.  :)
Allania Berkey May 2016
"Watch the stars" he said
"Okay."
her eyes were shut to stone.
"What did you wish for?"

laughs "wishing doesn't work like that?"

he loved the way her mind reasoned

"What if I don't say anything to anyone?"
                        he loved her
"What a temping offer."
everything about him tempted her.

"So will you tell me?" just as he smirked charmingly

she leaned in like she was going to Kiss him
" a secret wouldn't be a secret if I told anyone, would it?"
         she pushed him back, let go of his shirt and laughed
you could almost hear his heart beat regulating

"Promise we will be friends forever?"

the warmth started to disappear from her body just as a slight ache settled in her  stomach.

                    "Forever"
she smiled
                                    
she loved him

They both continued to stargaze.
Just to get you thinking
George Anthony May 2016
i'm sick and tired of these mind games.
you push me away and pull me back
like a yo-yo, or an emotional punching bag
(what's the difference anymore anyway?)
always in equal measures
but i've never felt more imbalanced

i hate you for assuming things
i hate you for making me feel things
you think you're the only victim in this?
you're wrong
and every ounce of my self loathing could never make you seem right

i'm tired of your every word hitting home
i'm tired of the way your anger breaks my bones
i'm tired of feeling like every move i make is a mistake
i'm tired of you making me ill

for ****'s sake
just leave me alone
(don't)
George Anthony May 2016
please don't shake me
'cause i'm bottling all of this up and i don't want to explode
i'm begging you to keep my cap sealed shut
tight, so nothing spills
i'm not capable of cleaning up after myself so let's just do everyone a favour
and avoid making a mess
Sammy Ann May 2016
Rain.
Rain surrounds me,
I feel it on my skin
I feel it in every breath
The stinging that I have felt for so long

No matter how hard I try it seems impossible to get away from
It's everywhere
when I get out of the rain
There is still water on me
I am currently still wet with the tears from the clouds

And sometimes the sun comes out
But it never seems to last long
it seems that the sunshine only lasts the mornings.

Before long the weather takes a turn and goes back to it's normal
Wet, Gloomy, and Miserable.

We can only pray that one day we will wake up with sunshine
And that sunshine will wipe away the gloominess of that day
For the entirety of that day.
maybe one day  I will wake up and the rain will be gone
But for now all I see is rain.
I am surrounded by rain
And one can only pray for sunshine so long before, they give up
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