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You were happy.

And I was supposed to be happy.

My gold leaf covered hands danced through every key and every scale.

Every symphony that you threw.

I gave you all that I could give.

The golden spotlight and rusting trophies that decorate your shelf.

You always wanted more.

But I'm afraid there was nothing more I could give.

You always wanted me here so why?

What did I do to deserve your shame and hatred.

Maybe you finally realized I was only plated with gold.

But thank you.

For scraping my dreams, my mind, and every hope I had for myself growing up.

Now I know that steel only bends under unimaginable pressure.

And I can walk away from you.

At last in the deep but soothing uncertainty that lays straight ahead of me.

Only having the hope that things will cool down eventually.

-Kore
Let me leave.
can't sleep,
early to rise
and search the
classifieds.

one more movie
should do the trick.
or maybe finish
that next game level?

i'll shower after
i get back from
the station,
long walk since
the tire popped.

first things first,
smoke break.
meet us around back
in buddy's tinted van,
you know
where nobody goes.

8 or 9 months is
plenty of time
to shape up.
gotta get it all in
before there's no more room
for my needs.
for A.J.
--
the ones that teach you,
who lift you up over
their heads
in good faith,
these are their stories.
I tried to grow, but held on so steadily,
That I burnt my pain in a form of ecstasy.
A drug I took, to release my anger,
Went up in smoke, causing me danger.
And this smoke blurred my vision, got caught in my eyes,
I was incessantly nervous, trying to survive,
Throughout sixteen years worth of trauma, and despise
I reach eighteen, to finally realize,
It wasn’t my fault, and sadly none knew,
What I experienced, and tried to subdue,
And I blamed and blamed myself for it all,
Taking the guilt, and taking the fall,
To find a point in life where I,
Accept in growth, things must die
So the memories had to, despite the pain,
Of walking through a burning flame,
And trying to fight the agonizing burn,
That one must feel, in order to learn.
doors are paved
buckets are heavy
fingers are glazed
pockets are ******

give and take
wife and man
pride and joy
hope and plan

air is toxic
back is failing
sleep is painful
bed is creaking

start or stop?
lows or highs?
smith or serf?
debt or worth?

car not starting
strap not locking
meds not working
wheels not stopping
for J.C.P.
--
the ones that teach you,
who lift you up over
their heads
in good faith,
these are their stories.
eyes on my skin
hands on my hair

eyes on my words
hands on my thoughts

eyes on my home
hands on my rights

eyes on my fun
hands on my slog

eyes on my past
hands on my fate

eyes on my womb
hands on my kin
for T.M.C.
--
the ones that teach you,
who lift you up over
their heads
in good faith,
these are their stories.
When will you realize that I am no longer who I used to be.

You rid me of the hope I had and the beauty I used to see in this cutthroat world.

Every word and hit you landed on me made sure of that.

You did not let me grow up and instead pushed me into the shallow looking waters thinking I would survive.

And you're right I did.

But at what cost?

Only my humanity of course.

How ironic it is that you wanted me to thrive and pour gold out of my waking life.

When I came out burning from sulfur and ashes.

No warning and no mercy, no.

You never taught me what that was.

All the expectations and dreams set into my very being with no thought of what it would take.

I am not your saving grace nor your chance for another life.

I am not made for your salvation, to make up for what you could not have.

I have always been so much more than that.

You birthed me from fuel and soot.

I was never meant to be what you predicted.

So do not come to me with your expectations of obedience I will never yield to your maltreatment.

I will never be molded into what you want of me.

-Kore
thanks mom and dad :)))
buzz, ****
doit, mute
hustle first
then bustle
screamin' chops
tired lips
crimson ties
broken blues
closed circles
open arms

wag the dog
book the gig
call the cab
hit the beat
play the set
chew the fat
sell the axe
make the rent
let the next
be the last
for D.P. & M.M.
--
the ones that teach you,
who lift you up over
their heads
in good faith,
these are their stories.
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