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Massi Lee Apr 2015
I've lived along your open skin, cheek on your back as I breathe. My face dances in the depth of your spine. I forget the silence that sweeps a moment like that.
Massi Lee Apr 2015
I prefer the over casted grey. Give me your scared collarbones that expose themselves after I have felt you. The infatuation with indifference is somewhat disposing of me. I have been numb for so long i've lost count of the inhalations that run along my ribs. I once drew the lines of those recessions and it expanded past the atlantic. Give me your motives baby.
Suzy Hazelwood Feb 2015
So many things
I could say
I don't
won't
can't
so many things
the world will never know
silence writes in poetry
For as much as I write about myself, there are many things I will never write about - not because I'm ashamed, or it's too terrible to write, but just because I'd rather not.  If I wrote about everything I have or am experiencing or have seen in this life so far - you might be shocked.  It's best to read between the lines.  But I'm sure I'm not the only one who does that?
aanmaneja Jan 2015
How reassuring
     such unspoken words can be
In times of loneness
     it is all what is left to me
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I trace my finger around. With red lipstick on I wear the skin of the pets I had, looking like a marigold shot through the head, my bare skin is barbed in the back. Such trouble and quiet with the wrap-around, the cross-walk, and floral shop as I browse. The white elephant in the upstairs bedroom, is making it hard for every one of us to sleep. With this Africa becomes a disease, that I unwrap from a cotton white sheet. When I breathe life is going good, under the spells of wicked and word. I like to call out in the night, so with no response I can plead for the courage to think; all the suburban philistines try to help me, but I can't tell a joke because I cannot read. Every thing amounts to being fat. Or liquidated in the most pathetic singles party for Karl Lagerfeld.

Numb fingers slur the words as I type telephone numbers that end in threes. I see a notice to be called upon, but it's hard to remember what day it is when your job only pays you in financial advice, "Don't do as I do, but please just do what I say." And I can smell that. The approach that a hunter brews in his midnight solemn cup of tea. Where a voice chimes in while a mouse runs out, dragging the corners of my eyes in a lagging meme, it doesn't do well to even be yourself sometimes, once while traveling I couldn't see. Come that morning I had left my hotel pass inside my favorite pants, black denim toting paint from a ******* shot, a picture that explains my disease.

The fifty inch fan hums an anonymous tune that when I turn quickly towards it becomes this feral baboon. And is it hardly based on fact or is it the illusions and the myths that Christopher Robins struck inside of me. With his griseous hands made of soot and of gouache, that worshipped animals that wear clothes outside. And even sometimes there are z's that transform into other creatures that hum real fast and talk out loud in nursery rhymes, a Whatsit and a Woozel are totally, too much for me. I turn the fan off and lay back down, and fight the world off with hands from another guy, much braver than I who doesn't even have tattoos but he's the top wordsmith from Buckingham. What a beautiful treat and such a magnificent surprise that the elephant lays down to die. Of course that's when my mouth dries up with smoke and my voice turns into the vanilla flavoring that everyone hates, and then too I felt like laying down to die. But I'm not 97 like I had thought I'm quite sure that I'm still alive. The white moon shines into my bedroom window at night and I pretend that I direct for the sky.
Maman Screams Apr 2014
If only life could be certain
With a drop of a poet's ink
A freedom of speech taints
As the piling papers sink
Nothing was written
No eyewitness sinned  
Seeing is believing
And so they preach
Puzzles made seems so easy
A minor once plea
How could they be so foolish
When they're set out to deal
With a thousand and one possibility
To this puzzle
That I'm currently in

@2014 Maman Screams

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