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witchy woman Jul 2015
drift unto

      the seamless abyss


             stars beneath your feet




      grass on your finger tips




                 head heavy




      body light




                                 here today




   gone tonight.


too much

   too soon


      


         nothing to take


               everything to lose.



  
                        I can't ask



                             could never tell you


              so



    goodbye sun,



                hello moon.
ladidadida
Styles Jun 2015
I read her eyes,
like a conversation.
and fell in love,
with my observation.
Styles Jun 2015
before I trust anyone to have my back
i'll keep a wall at my back,
fenced in, bracing my back.
use reflection as my weapon
keep moving forward,
as i'm looking back.
changing my perception,
so now I'm keeping track.
let words be words
and the facts remain facts.
Styles May 2015
I know that I don't know you;
  All though I love you;
*I never will.

  As much as I need to;
I won't ask for more.
  Even thought it hurts;
I won't let it show.
  This doesn't feel like love;
*but you say it is so, I just let it go.
ABadPenname Apr 2015
Because Instagram is my medium, and because somewhere deep down--in that place that no one talks about--it makes me feel immensely validated: putting out my ******* and receiving little bits of peer approval in return... Because I still smoke too fast when I want that short indulgent rush to last the most, so light another. Because the Itunes visualizer is an assured source of inspiration when I am feeling small about the universe, and about the 5-ish senses that I am confined to, and because there is too much of me to simply be kept quiet; because the things I want are wanted too completely to shut up about. Because I am doing excellent, and I want everybody in the world to applaud me for it--for my relentless and unyielding grasp of sanity, which often slips without my sureness be-ing lost along with it, and because the wreckage is a comfy place to lie when everything comes down to it...
Because admitting to yourself that you are addicted is the first step to recovery--or so I am told,,, and because denial is the first step one must fall from if they're itching to reach bottom... Because I am tired of climbing and have learned--among all else--how to enjoy the weightlessness of this long fall and the uncertainty it brings: uncertainty being my one true love, alongside mistress logic, who I truly LOVE returning to with open arms, seeking her comfort after a long long trip-- where I can walk winter without minding cold, and can enjoy seeing all the sights and all the Mad, Mad characters that wonderland contains. Because there is no 'character limit' nor is there censorship where I am concerned. Because I crave the criticism: that repetition is a cheaters way to write--and I want to cheat life's limitations and all social standards every chance I get. Because above all else, below all else, I want to clarify that--through every lesson I have taken-in since recently deceased December, and through all I have learned painfully, through the confusion and unrecognized irrelevance,
Because the greatest thing that I have learned thus far is: I am learning.
Brittany Wynn Apr 2015
It takes an unbridled spirit to selflessly help another in need,
so don't you dare believe that you found your *** of gold
without my rainbow.
Sneaking in silently,
whispering
secrets and conspiracies.

This is a puzzle,
scattered by
your thoughtless actions.

Voice still as stone,
I am held
prisoner of my mind.

The hands around my throat,
are not your's
but my very own.
D Loup Nov 2014
Glittered eyes and plastered smiles
Sloven signs of plastic lies

Under masks you call your home
Lies the heart I'll never hold

Truths to you, you'll never spill
Maybe so, I love you still
svdgrl Oct 2014
Wrapped up with the sky,
He said it speaks to us with words,
in the form of empty storms.
But the clouds don't shower thoughts
they only crowd the morning dew,
and the broken jukebox birds.
The chatter reminds me of my noisy efforts.
There was a time I said little-
"Don't trust the quiet ones."
They are the fools who believe in the blues and the sunsets,
sleep little and dream of promise.
Comfort brought me to speech
to explain the thunderstorms outside my windows
to shake off the dew his clouds
crowded in my chest
and the broken jukebox birds in my throat.
Yesterday he said I smelt like home.
The familiar scent of pillows and cover-
warm things in winter.
Campfire cinders.
Smoldered once in quietude-
burning with desire.
If my lips don't sound-
maybe I can hear the rumble of his clouds.
Maybe I can listen to his blues.
Watch his sunset in smoldering quietude.
Maybe he'll speak to me with words.
Or maybe he'll just rain on me
thoughtlessly.
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