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I don't mean to scare you
But could we make a deal?
I would like to wear your skin
To know how beauty feels.
Maybe pop a couple eyes
And test your lovely brain.
Admiring the intellect
This mind of yours contains.
Possibly your lips and nose,
Your fingers, knees and feet.
You'll be my perfect exosuit
Of pretty skin and meat.
Xylos 23h

A cluster of breaths

Cold feet,

I'm still,
And hoping to pass on.

d m 1d
white veins of snow
drip down the frosted window;
the sun tears down
lone snow warriors.
if you were here,
you might make it feel
like a home, instead
of an old
I carved out a smile for you
it was blue
but it's line curved up
toward my eyes
wrinkling my brow
a snake's tongue curled behind my teeth
waiting to dart at a moment's notice
and tell you how you turned
a butterfly
to a worm
   To Borrow Time,
   To sign the lines that resign our lives away,

This is our time.
   And Stand Attention.

For We Are,
   The Next In Line.

~Robert van Lingen
c 1d
Words are made of water
And memories of smoke
One will fade away with time
And one will make you choke.
i think i may be choking on my words right now
“pinky promise?” i ask him desperately.
“of course,” he replies, distantly.
it didn’t take him long to break that promise.

free verse
I climbed over the garden wall
Into the rich court and down the hall
Before I lived in poverty
Know I see how to live properly
By taking others property
And now there is nothing stopping me
See I told the rich
That humble and poor, was good!
And bad was having more than you should.
I laughed myself into a stitch.
And they left their house so quick!  
Did I learn lies are the best teacher?
Or never trust a preacher?
Either way, I showed them all
Because I climbed over the garden wall
Morality is pretty tricky. It seems like we constantly redefine it based on all kinds of arbitrary things and yet we are always expected to up hold the highest moral value. How I am suppose to know what is right and wrong much less be a good person. Then again I am a writer so I must be a sociopath!
Xylos 2d

My ears still find their way
near mouths
who are likely to label me
as Beautiful,

their opinion
makes it
more real;
I doubt my own sincerity
Am I not bound to be
to myself?

Am I?
When half the time
I'm not myself
at all.

heavy is the tide
that swallows lungs and organs
depression inside
I have all these **** words stuck in my throat but I can only manage to write 11 words.
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