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I went fishing for intimacy but did not anticipate
this catch
my small sailboat is sideways
yanked by your impulsive and passionate demeanor
will I be capsized?

when you combed your fingers through my hair
when we were camping under a crying moon
I could feel warm feelings swell in my chest for you
like a hot spring that tourists drive hours
to see and bathe in

we are going to a concert tonight
you bought the tickets yesterday and
I brought you a chocolate bar to say
thank you and
I like you
and I cannot wait to be dancing next to you
smiling between guitar riffs and brushing hands
between swift
movements of our hips

it feels so good to know you
to know that I am ending up with you
to know that I don't really know that
but I do know that I am happy to know you
loving in a new way
jude Sep 26
heart hurt
and frozen melody
and hot tears
and spinning salt
on a metallic swing.

looking for idols
in skies
and mountain tops,
searching for motions
to memorise
pretend to

scenic nothing
picturesque empty
less than
previous thought.

distant dreams
i’ll say it again,
fresh graves
and supposed
new beginnings.

discover what
you know
is what you knew
change isn’t a magnet
own it all

some reach
just out of sight
change your mind

not your fault

just want that feeling
I see you.
Lying there just a few
feet from me, the
malaphor of us, derisive, mocking,
screaming at me from
the air above our heads,
the same air that lies heavy


with all of the things we've
said to each other in this room

but you
don't see this

I glance at the curve of your hip
I question my resolve
I check and recheck my mental
list of how far I'm willing to
compromise and if it would be worth it

but you
don't feel this

I kissed your forehead, you took my hand;

you wouldn't let go.  I sat there and
gently caressed your arm, wanting only
to hold you, but you have poisoned
yourself tonight and it would be wrong.

You fell asleep, and still held on to my hand.

I sat with you a moment longer, smiling and silently weeping at the same time.

You wouldn't let me leave yet again,
even in your sleep.

In the light we can be seen.

The darkness is safe, so I still hold your hand.

This is a love song;

This is a requiem.
Insomnia and anxiety are leading me on this particular journey.  Feel free to give all the criticism you'd like.  I am out of practice, hell I'm not even sure why I am doing this.
Kai Jul 22
scrambled mind
scrambled eggs
an amalgamation
of cooked flesh
heated fever hot
something on fire
a burning house
ashes that remain
roses and posies
sickness of old
and of the new
brains on fire
breaking down
and broken up
till they're gone
Just my skippy scratchy record thought process shown on paper in my word association type way.
A man is lying sideways on a bed, his shoulder softly suffocating a pillow. He is confronted by the image of a lone G.I. at the mouth of the Mekong Delta, flanked by a Dutch colonel woman, pensively staring on. The man is now pointing his gun at the pillow, his aim obstructed by his own head. He is currently in matrimony with the dreams of yesterday, yet not as much so with his extremities.
"I wouldn't let it die if I were you," croons a voice from the impossible background, seeming to leap over the hurdles of inner commotion.
"Who's that? Whatever could you be?"
As forward as he was in his tone, he couldn't resist the dominated position he was in. Even less resistible was the pulling motion of the tunnel behind him. He is now falling back into the sun.
Homunculus Jul 28
Twisted tales come surging
From a mind writhing and purging
In an oft fomented urging
For expressions, pure and raw
That fight repressions, lure and claw
Their way up to the surface
To effect a sense of purpose
But it's really all just worthless. . .
That's, unless you think it's not!
But if you don't: Your brain might rot!
Your skin might bubble, blood might clot
Leaving you heaving bile and snot
Or maybe phlegm and sputum
So your mental stores, you loot 'em
Load these rhymes up and you shoot 'em
Into repressed regression's mains
Into depressed suppression's veins
Until they sing a glad refrain
Of being decoagulated
Platelets become agitated
Now the blood is circulated
And the brain that hibernated
Has awakened from its slumber
Now it ponderously lumbers
With intentions unencumbered
Gotta do it by the numbers
So, them synapses start firin'
Them cortices start wirin'
And belly full of fire sings
Of jelly beans and tire swings
Of silly schemes and flyer wings
On foul mouthed little parrot,
Owners ***** laundry, airs it
Polly want a *******?
Just a snack sir?
But old Polly sez:
"**** me harder, Álvarez!"
Look aghast, her husband Ted:
"Oh hell no *****, 'cause that's the bed
that both we AND our children sleep in!
you've got Latin Lovers creepin'?"

She vacates the bedroom weepin'
Well . . . that took a drastic turn
To dwellings where disasters churn
So silly, will we ever learn
Or for mere want of learning, yearn?

(Tom, to himself: Go eat food. . . .)
(Tom, back to himself: Good idea!)

I think he left, but I'm still near
As tattered, scattered writing, dear!
So, read me well and read me clear,
And bring some friends to visit here!
(Paraphrase of System of a Down song from 2001 tour) I'm on drugs! I'm on drugs! Iiiiiiii am on DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm on drugs! I'm on drugs! Iiiiiiii am on DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!! Doooooooooo yoouuuuuuuu like DRUGS? Iiiiiiiiiiiii ammmmm DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" But so are you, really. You drank coffee today, didn't you? AHA! Caught you right in the act! Case closed. . . .
camps Jul 24
will you hold me
or will i sink down the cracks of the sofa
and befriend all the loose change and whatever
other documentaries got lost on their way to the fridge

on my way down i saw a moth ball copulating with a paper clip
a crisp twenty dollar bill but instead of the president
the scars of a rather gruesome history al gore was just sitting there
head in his hands

i tried to chew the bubblegum but it broke my skull
a couple of pink pistachios waved from afar as the rogue
kernels played bully in a scene they’ve never seen since

as careful as i was it wasn’t it until i reached the fabric
that i realized the cotton was awake it greeted me
not as a sign of friendliness but out of respect for here i was
still thinking i could fit in your hands
camps Jul 24
denali licking me from the inside out
it’s a tickle that starts from the tummy and ends in your
toes, if i had ‘em but they fought the good fight

back when imagination consisted of staring up at the sky
and pretending you were already in the place you were
and when mirrors reflected what you thought you saw

instead it’s time spent thinking about your name on my skin
the electric wild is running down your spine will you try to catch it
pornographic sentiments are cheap change for feeling something

city lights and lonely nights only look good on film
a haphazard mechanical zeus for the metallic taste
that’s still lingering from when i tried to breathe
camps Jul 16
i'd trade a porsche for a flight to helsinki
but that would leave me without a getaway car
and an empty wallet we've all violated the
atmosphere enough so she definitely doesn't need
me up there sticking needles in my eyes in the hopes
of no longer reproducing crawl into this visionary vasectomy

if we are all god's children wouldn't we learn
about tax brackets at an earlier age
instead we watch re-runs of history
the episodes are two thousand years long
and are split in two by a thirty three hour commercial break
that just flashes the word christ written in
comic sans next to a picture of the hamburglar

writing is a sin and my memory is nothing but a styrofoam princess
knocking on a wooden door until the splinters run riot on a life
condemned to a single sentence in solitary confinement where all
you can do is sharpen pencils
i miss bryce
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