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FloydBrandon Feb 5
I was sitting on the inside
seeing what was out there
all the while hating it here.
So I thought I'd go far enough
to get what it was
and bring it back home with me
to keep and to love.

Between the two of us
**** what we used to be
let's write our own history
and do these things our way.

Sideways.

(I love how you're the thing that I love to write about
cause I'd be a dummy not to write you down)
God ****** you're awesome
annh Mar 1
Love travels sideways,
Down dark alleys,
Along winding country lanes;

Arrives late,
Hesitates too long,
Leaves early;

A journey to take,
A destination unmapped,
An invitation to linger when we least expect it.

Her clear lazuline gaze ******* my clumsy attempt at transparency, an unambiguous hesitation the length of a skipped heartbeat. I watched her eyes darken and spool as realisation ebbed and flowed, and ebbed and flowed again. 'Let’s go,’ she said, pulling me gently to my feet. 'And listen to the ocean breathe.'
annh Oct 2019
Papa always said, ‘Parallel lives meet when love travels sideways.’
‘She didn't look at me and I didn't look at her. Some questions are so direct the only way to ask them is sideways.’
- Deanna Raybourn, A Spear of Summer Grass
Justin Parks Feb 2018
Sometimes I prefer you
looking at something else
Instead of me.
Not because I'm shy
Or you look better sideways,
But because of the way
You wonder at things.
I love the feeling of thinking
That if you can look
At lifeless mountains in too much awe,
How much more passion do you give
Looking at the person who owns your soul?
Devin Ortiz Sep 2016
Reality comes in flashes
Waves of inaudible screams
Weightless in a body of regret

I inhale this false world
Imprisoned in a vast beyond

I know that I am trying
To awake from this criminal comatose

All I have is a key
To a lock I'll never find.
Corey Dec 2014
I'm walking sideways
In my dream world
I'm working up
The nerve to ask

I'm here then there
And everywhere
I'm getting up
To go and ask

Are you here now
Will you stay forever
Is this just a dream
I've believed real

Is it now or forever
Is it neither or both
Is this dream I'm in
Turning real
Dangerous roads
and starless nights
a/c out
and faulty lights
squeaky brakes
a seat that bites
you can take your truck and stuff it

endless circles
lonely bi ways
without a net
on the highway
it's time that i just
did it my way
you can take your truck and stuff it

you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
it's not your life that's on the line
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
i'm on my way....and that's just fine

paperwork
time delaying
canvas straps
constantly fraying
you ***** to me
but i hear naying
you can take your truck and stuff it

life's short
i'm not waiting
takes too much
to keep berating
i'm getting *******
and we're not dating
you can take your truck and stuff it

you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
it's not your life that's on the line
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
right there where the sun don't shine
you can take your truck and stuff it sideways
i'm on my way....and that's just fine
for Patrick Desmond
Living life on a slant.
 Things keep slipping
  Just out of reach,
   Looking like they are far,
    Too far to be here or there.
     Everything is unobtainable,
      People seem like they
       Plot against what you
        Want for them and for your life.
         Smiles seem crooked,
          Sidelong glances lengthen,
           And frowns look fake.
            Nothing is clear when
             The only perspective is
              Sideways.
Wamble Definition: to stumble and stagger about.
Martin Narrod May 2014
It's like this, and then there was total recall. Fast like a safety plan made wrong and then bouncing in and out all the way down the hall. Up through cable cars, Korean fast food market, wet fish, soupy street, concrete cracks filled with crab meat and **** heads. Just a square, a five block, two street, sideways quadrangle, beat of the Tenderloin, hour of the dove. Every one's dead on these loose ends. Hills of the back of her backside, skin of the back of her neck. Rapture is the grave of the sunset, memory is that thing that I said.

No one cans in carnivores, no one runs moves like a shepherd. Sunday, daft as candy, luck in the ways of the prophet. Canon of the blaze of every woman that died today. The sleep setting, the motorcycle bending the hollow, the ravines noisy interlude, up through the rough and the tangles, huddles in a six pack, three or four walking up the block to meet the rest of them.

The skin doesn't fit right, it wears wrong, the shoulders stiff, the masseuse excuses himself. Buckets of flowers hang from the ceiling like stripped cat christmas decorations in suburban mastermind serial killer resort town. Everyone is quiet because they gotta. They move their feet like they were hurrying death into a red volcano, like they were the errand of red from the top bell to the bottom of the town.

I sit on a roof top, baking in the noon day sun. Stripping sticks and stems off the side to sideways, just roasting away, laying, low in the afternoon light. I see a girl with her hands on her skirt, wobbling, scooting a priest card on a periwinkle terra-cotta.  I move my head, turn it upside round to take a better look. No one counts to ten when they see me. The gangster that woke up isn't the gangster that went to sleep last night. My wickedness ended my words mean your bright decay. So I ride the pavement exhausted, burying my coughs in an L-shaped arm
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