Seems now I’m just another girl to you,
And in the end, that’s all I ever was.
You won’t be satisfied with one or two.
One girl for you will never be enough.

I spent too many hours daydreaming
Up scenarios that will never come true.
I was loving the idea of love
Far more than I could ever love you.  

I’m not hurt that you asked for her number
I’m not hurt that you didn’t say hello.
I hurt for the girl because It is no longer I
that has to put up with you, but her.

And my fragile heart
I wanted to
throw at the world
For making me feel like I don't belong here

Nylee 2d

What role do I play
In another's story?
A good sidekick,
Or someone plain negative
Or the annoying one
Or I even there worth mentioning
So caught up to sail my own story
To venture towards the dreamed glory
Pages after pages of my internal struggle
With so many people
Given an abrupt role
But the same monotone, so very dull
No sense of an ending,
no up time, no down time
My life mingled with others
Filled with their parts biased
With my less than real heroics
Just reaching to my emotional peaks
Making others less important
The atmosphere haunts
My life, the pen writes
The story full of bites.

Dr. F.W.N. discovered it by accident you see?
   The first man downloaded was no longer man.
He suffered dearly until the plug was pulled,
    and we started over again; with biologists.
Geneticists, Embryonticians, TransEugenecists,
    all celebrated the new fast-growing body.
No more deaths at old age expiry, on battlefields.
    for a price all would live eternally; eternity here.

It did not work. The bodies worked, the software recorded
    but the people were insanely bi-polar. Insane in fact.
Until we switched the torso's and genetics in tandem.
   then somehow the surviving person retained all memories!
They were in fact; themselves! Just in a different gendered body?
   Unfortunately for everyone this was a major psychological shock.
Unexplainable, sure, evolution took four billion years so...
    ...more time, more time, more experimentation is all we need.

Wilhelm changed it all.
When he added the shock,
added the <human> response,
turning the machines into

They are truly A.I.
...verily human in fact.
Animal-ish, peaceful
then angry, terrible or

Artificially Intelligent;

"What good is it to change a person,
              ...merely into someone else?"
-Al Abd Azaz

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

To see beneath the surface,
and know the ocean tydes.

Mike D 3d

The story is nothing new
This page isn’t filled with uniquely creative thoughts
An epic tale told a thousand times
You probably know the whole thing by heart
Each line another cliché metaphor
A clever twisting of the words
Filled with thesaurus like similes
Turning clever into the absurd

Dated analogies about the sun and moon
The heavens and the earth
Attempting to link items on the grandest of scales
To your emotional tale without worth
Or an observation deemed so insightful
Into rhyme or prose it must be made
Yet exactly seen by millions like you
The same story they also laid

Falling tears or fervor held
Are items long in the tooth
A comet soaring through Heaven and Hell
Trucker’s tales in coffee booths
Attentive ears are deafly turning
Audience bemoans with a heavy sigh
A hefty wind flickers the candle’s flame
The plunging eagle about to die

A key among the keyboard
The tide is given a sudden shift
A movie fade to black then back again
The story’s not over yet
The soul might be old but the embodiment new
Of the same fabric it is made
Mother birthing a child; Later child birthing too
The road before us has been paved

Our predecessors we don’t maniacally mow down
Or drive harshly over their backs
Asphalt has been laid and affixed with bright lights
For this trip our bags have been packed
Our minds lit and a map we’re handed
But this is our journey to take
Every sensory felt, every nuance, every detail
Each experience is ours to make

Recalling and pondering we filter it through
Our subconscious and conscious mind
Eloquently putting our words onto paper
Giving life to the tale that we wind
No incantation given, no sorcery used,
No tricks or attempt to obfuscate
A virtuous orator with straightforward talk
Reaching out to communicate

A fire within like a volcano erupts
Ripping pieces from us we must share
Tiny segmented memories that are shed off
Slowly away from us floating on air
On their own expedition with distinctive narrative
From their trek new treks will be born
The road will be driven so many times
New asphalt will become old and worn

These statements aren’t made in an attempt to dissuade
The adventurous explorer’s spirit
On the contrary in fact, life’s reigns they must grab
Not on their hands idly sit

The model dictates near the end we must make
A summation of previous characters
All statements before and utterances too
Must neatly fit into one or two stanzas

Even though each of us has a heart and a mind
Their singularity makes each one special
The data they store from this life’s ride
If desired a story should tell
Don’t be shut behind doors, someone turned off the lights
Told your words are nothing but noise
The world needs to hear, what you need to share
Your uniquely individual voice

Written - January 20, 2018 'Today'

All rights reserved.

Through the white, beating Texan heat,
water towers cry out titles
high above the flat land
where kids from the roadside houses
run around in stained tank tops,
dreaming of their own names up there.
The long and burnt grass cuts their ankles
and the dry cement scrapes their feet.
The midday ritual begins in a racing circle
raising dust over the roofs and into the shy afternoon.
Around 5, the roadside families reunite
in front of their houses to watch the daily traffic jam
and observe the variety of faces through the glass windows,
which after a short while do not seem to vary at all.
But today, something else had their full attention.
The sky was never seen this low and the clouds
​turned a shade of black
so dark as to be almost green,
so the eldest women on that single row of houses
declared bad omen. The next early morning,
the closest water tower laid gravely against the ground.
Already, a small boy had climbed on top of the tank,
soles bleeding, and waving
​his shirt into the wide clear sky.

©2018 Alex Bex -

What would have been if u were the same?
The same old you I now long for.
You might say that my love died when you look in my eyes.
Look deeper, there is still love.
My wants will die but not my love.

What would have been if u were the
The same old you that I miss.
The same old you who knew my words of silence and my message of the paintings I made in your absence.
Look deeper, they have written a story of you and me that I could not write.
Where is the same old you?

I have to sit quiet,

Wait for the wind

To blow away my tears before they fall.

I have to keep watch

On what I say, what I think.

Even in my sleep, I can’t betray myself.

Gulp each cry, each word I speak,

To be dropped off on a paper no one reads.

Everyone wants a rock to hold onto.

A quick mire, no one needs.

For what do I owe

This heartbreaking happiness?

This eternal river of tears?

For my love, my ego and my fears.

Who can I turn to?

Who can I blame?

For these sad affairs and my sorry state.

My story is better unwritten.

My sorrows untold.

People are fed up of giving sympathies after all.

Bound by the choices, by free will, I made.

I do not have the liberty to complain.

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