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MBishop Jun 2014
I sit around observing everyone carry on with their single-faceted lives.
How simple would it be to be only one person? Instead, I am left to deal with the repercussions of myselves.

    It's not my fault I'm different with every person, including myselves.

Or maybe it is. Maybe there's something wrong with your brains.

Perhaps, though whatever the reason, I believe we can all agree we are utterly mad
                                                       Agreed.

How funny it is to have someone deny a characteristic of my personality. For all they know, I could be everything they hate covered in a chrome mask reflecting everything they love.
It is of this I think when one expresses a liking toward me.
That affection is vain, they are admiring the qualities of themselves.
No one, not even I can see all my selves at one time. Some come along, new to my surprise
If I were to find a being who values things at more than, for lack of better word, "face value", then I may show them my selves and we would discover our selves together.

How odd would it be to look in a mirror.
     Oh now that is too many faces to look at
   Yes, but perhaps I would discover the gravity of it all - what's holding it together.
                     Enough of your nonsense!
                                Back to work, the lot of ya!
Different fonts (bold, italic, etc.) mean a different "self" or aspect of my personality (Bossy, inquisitive, pessimistic)
Wed, April 30, 2014 18:51
Joshua Ryan May 2014
Could not my mind have conjured this?
Could this not be all a dream?
I cannot identify illusion
is nothing as it seems?

Could I so lonely be
that I've contrived this world alone?
And everyone I've ever loved
A creation of my own?

I don't believe you're make believe
Of you I'll always ponder.
I need you real, here with me.
I cast aside my Sonder.
Kurt Kanawa May 2014
slit wrists
damp pillows
lover's eyes
vacant hearts
empty plates
twin beds
chinese temples
wooden idols
dusty windowsills
rap verses
closed curtains
angry candles
calloused hands
unopened letters
unsent texts
dry pens
spare change
crusty nails
dusty books
speeding tickets
broken crayons
black mascara
and more

sometimes
we're alike
sometimes
we're not

but we each always have
a story
to tell
an ode to everyone on this site. thank you, congratulations, condolences, my apologies.

— The End —