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Jack Thompson Aug 2015
Words that began from boose and tears.
All those nights ago.
I could have sworn it were years.

But then again I never was good with time.
Now that I look back on it.
I sure as hell let you waste a lot of mine.

But what I did find amidst it all.
The summation of your shatters.
A net of words that broke the fall.
Emotional solitude to gather my scatters.

I collected all your broken shards.
Held onto them for keepsake.
Now they pave the way forward.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
Nairi Kalpakian Jul 2015
I’m a breaker, at best

and at my worst, I’m broken

I can still remember the pauses

after every word that was spoken

my room is dark, I don’t quite feel alone

I don’t really miss you like i thought I would

~

My hair grows long, I think I can breathe easy

Yet sometimes, when I feel you round, I get queasy

No, I wouldn’t miss you if I could

No, but you definetely should
Courtney Gaura Jan 2015
I like my world
It's different from yours
I'm sure
I see the movements of still objects
Pain is two things
How can describe that
I feel my bones rotting
Under my skin
It hurts
But that's okay
Pain is also something
Easily discarded
I like my world
It's full of cresting
Thoughts and ideas
Dreams
Of sleeping and awakened hour
of music as dark
As I sometimes feel
Or as lost
As I wonder
In my mind
A grand maze
8  dimensions
So in the end
I know my world is different
from yours
What's yours like?
Is there a radio on
With all the songs
You listen to?
Well I am breathless
As my masks
Lock in place
Maybe one day
Someone will see
The world inside of me
But for now
I like my world
It might be dark
Some days
And light
Others
It is mine
Just a look
Courtney Gaura Jan 2015
Tomorrow
I
Live
Life

Iridescent

Dreams have
Inexplicable
Explanations

In describe able  (I can't spell it! Help? )

Will
Inscribed
In my bones
Like scars
Luminescent darkness

Love
Is a
Volatile
Experiment

Hardest part of
A day it the
Part in which you remember the
Past and say to
Yourself that your okay
Read the first letter of each line
Courtney Gaura Jan 2015
I like the revolver
There's only one bullet though
Sometimes I spin it
Raise it to my head
Click
Empty again
Click
Nope
Click
Maybe next time
Sometimes it feels like a game
Other time I want what I'm scared of
I have the bullet engraved
Is half finished
The other half is on the barrel
Of the gun
Click
Two left
Still alive
Maybe one day I'll understand why
I like the revolver
Courtney Gaura Jan 2015
Armed with ink and lead
Or is it grafite
I don't know, I am dead
Oh look dynamite
Explodes the words in my head
let's fight
Though there is no need
To Die
Or spill blood of the not dead
Though it's wrought of badly worded light
like this you'd read
Katlego Tladi Jun 2014
Dedication defined as the derivative of desperation.
Defined but not definite.
Definitely finite.
If only I could I'd find it.
Find what?
A way out of the blue.
The blue?
The blue is you.
A way out of your constant glare
Unaware you stare
I seek something to shade me
You are my shade
Yet you enslave me
The sky that raised me
The ground that grazed me
The trees that praised me
Now aim to sway me
They test me
They ask me
Who are you?
Who are you now?
Rocking all that gold from our bowel.
Why will you not bow?
I refuse.
I detest.
I refuse to stand for it.
I will lie if I have to.
I will **** a man for it.
But this me.
Dedicated.
This world is what I made it.
So sway all you want.
My success cannot be evaded.

— The End —