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raine miller Feb 2017
i want to live as if i were a firework.
it is an absolute ownership of the self
to recognize that none escape life without burns,
and to charge forth recklessly.
screaming across the night sky,
fireworks cannot go unnoticed
with their gaudy colors and thick trails of smoke;
i wish to be myself as unapologetically.

brash and impatient,
i want my voice to reverberate across the masses,
whether i speak to one or a hundred thousand.
my words will echo the raucous thunder of fireworks,
in the ceaseless recognition that i am alive, that i am something;
be it nothing more than a camera flash against the smudge of time.

do we not delight in the glare and promise of a simple firework,
a chemical accident launched into being?
if a firework can be beautiful despite its brokenness,
then i too can rise from my own ashes,
cry into the void, and flourish.
Mica Kluge Jun 2016
You and I were a summer thunderstorm,
Tension building in the distance, then
Shattering in a crack of thunder.
Whirlwind of passion, we never could
Have lasted, but, like hell we tried. The
Storm lost its ferocity, and all that was left
Is the damage in its wake.
Emma Hill Jan 2016
I feel if I move from this place the sharpness of my knees will cut through the skin shrinking to be closer to my fragile bird bones or that upon lifting the body I am allowing to deteriorate the blood may rush too quickly behind my eyes leaving me unable to keep from tumbling and shattering in a beautiful spray of technicolor
haven't been acquainted w sleep or nourishment, haven't been taking care of Myself
Bea Miralles Nov 2015
It's quite the irony
How fragile a muscle the heart is,
but when finds love, goes reckless.
Generic Name Jun 2014
Such heaviness
Bearing on me
All-consuming
Eating away
From all sides.
Soon
I must all be gone.


I feel.
Oh how I feel.
So many tears
How could this body
This tool
Hold so many
They fall down
As I do.
Without warning
Under attack.
I am helpless
I am powerless.
It is too late
But
I do
Deserve this.


Treasure maps
Fallen trees
Operator please
Call me back when it’s time
Call me back when it’s passed
No one to blame
But my stupid
My reckless
My self.


As ever
I shouldn't have.
As ever
I did.


The cure?
Time.
Or better yet
A time-machine.

— The End —