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I Am Not Hiding
Will You Find Me
Cause I'm Lonely
World War 4
Verse 1:

I thought that
It'd be obvious
That you and I
Would be

I knew it
From the very

But maybe I'm
Since I met you
I've been

At The


But now that
Things got hard
We lost our way
Between what we
And what we

Let's go back
In time
This crime
And we'll
We Just

2nd Verse:

We were at the top
I thought that
We would never fall
The view was
From where we

Days and months and years
Would pass and
All would stay the same
Cause we would do
We could

Last Verse
To Come
JT Dec 2016
About the time that the skin around his eyes
and behind his ears matches the evening sky
(black and blue, ****** pockets of purple),
a nurse asks me what happened and I tell her,
against white walls, and over a pile of bruised meat,
and beneath the phantom of a prognosis that includes
the words "injury" and "traumatic" and "brain" which seeped into
the atmosphere hours, but that doesn't make any sense,
because just seconds ago we were drinking
from cheap bottles, the color of honey or flypaper
depending on the place, we had black comedy
smeared across our faces like thick shadows under lamp lights,
we were stumbling across a road together
through the city's living darkness and we were twelve
and we were twenty-four and we were forty-five
all at once and that doesn't make any sense, but it's true.
A nurse asks me what happened and I tell her. But
I leave out the flashbang between the parenthesis,
the part where given the choice
between grabbing him or saving myself,
space and time come undone in the headlights of a truck
and I'm back on the sidewalk before you can say
The nurse tells me it was lucky I was there,
and a little clear fluid leaks out of his nose in tacit agreement.
heeeeeeavily edited 2/23/17 :P
Douglas Scheurn Oct 2016
Ten million bombs,
In an organism,
Single of cell.

The nucleus becomes nuclear,
The ironic cliche.
Instructions to life is unclear,
Resurrection per touch'e.

The ground breaks and falls away,
Supernatural universe all around you,
Leading yourself away,
Venomous vapor clouds you pass through.

Written texts whisper secrets,
"They're secrets for none exist to hear it!"

Ink fills the veins in challenge,
Blood carresses the paper before you,
Eyes stare in mallace,
Rebellion is the potential in truth,

The light dims as you suffocate the beautiful lie.
Thirteen dice becames synchronized with your soul,
Chances are you will die,
Before your art feeds your home.

As sad as this is,
It brings us boundless joy.

From the darkest possible chasm,
Ascends our Chrystal-Rift ******.
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
There's an impossibility standing adjacent to the nearest star bound body
It waves and beckons with a sincere familiarity so unnaturally
I am the end of the undulating tunneled vision
I am become a silhouette of a dead city caught in the decaying story bones fiction

We are all emptiness and our emptiness is how we define ourselves.
But our emptiness will become a river into which we will find the world to be held.
The universe exists in the eyes of those who live without the sight to see
Those breathing, freezing stars that burn into the heart buried deep.

Constructs of will and portions of strength cut out the guilt of my youth
All roads lead to the sky but I will not seek to understand you
Futures are made in blinks and beats
Are they aware of the way we lay with our tangled feet under these threadbare sheets?

Follow the light of my darkness
A single shot of whiskey and a conversation whisks away my heart's hardness
All cool and breezy across the great green oceans
I'll meet you halfway between loss and a facsimile of dreamed emotions
Candela Apr 2014
Mami was my grandmother.
Because she's dead.
She died October 20th.
The day after my best friend's birthday party.
The day after a boy said i was pretty.

I cried, of course,
but as the days passed i realized i wasn't so sad.
And that made me really angry.
How couldn't be sad?
What was wrong with me?

I remember this day when she wrote my name on a notebook.
She wanted to talk to me.
She said she was sorry about what happened.
Long story.

I remember when she had the stroke.
It was my brother's birthday and she was so happy on the phone.
Mom was smoothing my hair and my aunt called.
I remember the lost look in her eyes.
I remember my sister crying.
I remember telling my brother on the phone.
I remember crying.
But i can't remember was was the last thing she said to me.
And that's ****** up.

After she died i understood my mixed feelings.
I miss my grandmother.
But the lady in the bed of a ****** hospital wasn't my grandmother.
I know it sounds mean.
But it's the truth.
sorry about the weird narrative

— The End —