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  May 2014 Taylor Cuomo
nostalgic
i write
to
hide
away
from the
terrors
of the
world.
i write
to
sink
slowly
into the
terrors
of my
mind.
  May 2014 Taylor Cuomo
Jack
~

Through wooden blinds uneven slats
the sun appears to shine
Beyond the storms of later night,
in just the nick of time

With cooler breeze of air to flow
and wishing wells so deep
Dreams cast in coins to bottoms fall
that you my heart shall keep

For in this winded poet stirs,
a passion constant strong
The feel for words to touch your soul
amidst a summer's song

With distant far off tendencies,
to reach is but a chore
Yet through these words I hope you find,
it’s you I do adore

And I shall take this sunrise glow
with every breath as new
Believing it is sent with love,
to me from only you
  May 2014 Taylor Cuomo
Wes
sad*  scared  alone  depressed  It  overwhelmed  ups­et  ignorant
 irrelevant  broken  disgusting  is you  awful  rejected  numb  stupid   
unhappy  lazy­  fat  mad  that protects me from the  hopeless  cold  fear
glum  tragic  pouring rain and you shelter me from the  worked  poor
despair  big wide world and for that I owe you my soul  chubby
sick  and           I          think             that          you         are  wrong
hollow                                              B                                               shame
empty                                               e                                                 envy
anxst                                                a                                            remorse
grief                                                  u                                               greedy
poorly                                               t                                             shallow
fed up                                              i                                             beaten
bullied                                              f                                               guilty
unheard                                           u                                         unneeded
stress                                             l.                                             *bored
I don't particularly like this 'poem'. :)
Without my friend I would feel...
I want to be angry
But there's no fight left in me
I want to feel
Anything
But tired
Taylor Cuomo May 2014
I ask myself if I can do it
knowing deep down I can't
but the aching failure follows me
and calls me back again.
I oblige once more and get my pen,
sliding it angrily against this paper
because this crap is better than
a
blank
page.
A poem about how I can't write poetry.
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