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You
. . . You
Fuck me, you
Are the best thing that has ever
Happened to . . . Me. . .
I thank God for you every day baby
liv 23h
we could all be a teacher
we’re all wise about something
taught lessons we didn’t ask for
as we make our way through life
and we can teach people going through
similar things
what we learned from those lessons
we’re all just naive students and teachers
in this school called life
that have learned so much
and have so much to tell about
yet have so much to learn
the school of life
THE STORY IN MY HEAD
(Sounds Of Silence)

Would I have had it any better in life?
Why would it be me?
Why would he hurt me?
He is my Father

Why would he get closer to me?
Why would he unbutton me and tell me not to shout?
and why did I not?
Why did I not tell Mom?

That her husband, my father is not the man he was once
Now, he craves for me, his product,
That he didn't do it just once
but more times that I have even lost count

I am hurt but can only speak to myself
For one word out, is hell
I am fearful not to speak, for he said
DO NOT DARE SAY ANYTHING, or you are gone {dead}

Mom, I am sorry but I each time you inquire,
"Are you feeling fine, Glory?"
I can only say "Yes Ma," a deceiving story;
I can only smile at you

For the man in front
Is not a man
but a beast who feasts
on his own kids.

I fear for my own death to not come at this young age
Perhaps, I can tell only myself this tale
Till when he is of old
and the story can then be told.
The story I fear telling anyone, I have to keep my sounds in my silence
In the fractured passages
of passivity, you watched
the grain filter so deep
into the evening's arid
loom, that your sigh
was filled with hollow
heat—fanned by all
that remains cupped
behind the gray day's back.

Let's suppose you chose
the wrong hand again—
so I guess we're here
again—where the night
is cloaked in static wears,
and all the yellow eyes
flicker on—humming
along to the electric lines.
Where cars never stop
cruising down the block,
and you wonder how long
until the droning days end—
drowning out all your vain
attempts to mask your settled
roots.

But we’ve all got our ends—
it’s just a matter of taking
the weight to rip it out.
A poem from my chapbook that I hope to be releasing in late fall.
MaxiM Jun 3
So, people have souls,
So, people grow old,
So, people halve goals,
So, people heave coal,
So, people flow gold,
So, people go cold.
Life till Death.
Rich from Poor.
They knock on the same Door.
I am a walnut
A hard outer shell

Keeping my secrets within

Few bother to crack me
It takes too much effort
for such an unappetizing morsel

But those who do take the time
Find that once I am open
All of me has been spilled out to them

And I cannot uncrack


But he is a pumpkin
He opens for you

But you have to pull his secrets out of him
Bit by slimy bit
Until you have them laid out on a
table
and still you must sort through his insides
to find who he really is

And when you think you know
There is another secret
That he won't explain

He doesn't want you to know him
I have given myself to him, but he hides himself from me
You are like economics,
Your addictive touch, my unlimited want.
Forget our chemistry, physics & genetics,
But you, I just can't!

Ne'er scarce in relation to my demand,
You know my every mood & curve.
You alone, can my heart command,
As market prices shift & swerve.

I am normative, you positive,
Opposites attract? Tis true!
Our every action, cumulative,
Together, the perfect graph we drew.

Your utility, I cannot question,
You chipped away my unstable equilibrium.
Your every approach, devoid of confusion,
Insurance of our love, requires no premium.

Though our needs are ever recurring,
Our time, brief and limited.
Memories created are never-ending,
Opportunity cost for you? Never hinted.

You are the good, worst, better & best,
Most importantly, you are never a test!!
Written before my Economics exam. Why do we get inspired at such times, lol!!
Our lips are touching
But my mind is drifting
To everything but you
In these moments of truth
I have no proof
No hopeless devotion
Or strings of emotion
One foot out the door
Pedal to the floor
I’m counting the steps
No thoughts of regrets
Waiting impatiently
Feigning affections
Knowing my direction
Listening to the beat of my heart
Following the rhythm
Searching for a brand new start
Awaiting the moment
When I have the words
To explain why we need to part
Cowardice in its purest form
Nothing outside of the norm
In the cold empty darkness
one constant remains
All the memories are the same
Old beat-up wooden empty picture frames
Frame after frame
showing the same
Having in constant view
All that you knew
Showed over and over again
Might make one insane
But I can take the pain
Sure pieces of me
are torn away
Burning off like fiery embers
and the ash is flushed all down the drain

I pick up that empty picture frame
A memory I remember ‘Oh so well’
I stare at the blackened abyss
Sudden rage; a burning hell
Tear out the nothing that was within
In my hand I begin to rip and mangle
From the nothing before; after, nothing remains
Except an imprint of that dark rectangle

For that is what you did to me
that fateful day you left
You did it with my heart
While tearing it out of my chest
Not one ounce of concern you showed
I fell and gasped for air
Instead your things you packed and stowed
Stepped over without care
Remaining here trapped in this void
With all that is and was
The Alpha & Omega meet
Pound beers to get a buzz
No hiss or hum; No song or hymn
Can replace what is lost
Forever it’s gone from within
I guess that is the cost

I smash the glass and wooden frame
Tears falling from my eye
“You fucking bitch! Why’d you do this?
I hope you fucking die!”
With agony I scream in pain
Pick nothing off the floor
and put it back into the frame
just as it was before
With wooden splinters, shattered glass
I hold it in my hand
From way deep down there comes a laugh
that I don’t understand

I love you and I hate you
Everything you did to me
But then I start to realize
My eyes open to see
You never really did exist
I made you up inside my mind
A suit too big that doesn’t fit
Imagination; tried on for size
A sculptor with his clay;
forever tried to find the shape
Each imprint pressed just wouldn’t stay
Not giving up was my mistake

I cackle in the darkness
and begin to scare myself
Fear starts to overwhelm me
It’s a fear that I know well
But one thing that I didn’t know
Was who you ever were
I think I met you in a dream
Can’t speak; my words I slur
The meds must now be kicking in
Unsure and with despair
Don’t know if I am overcome
Or that I just don’t care
Written: September 17, 2018

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