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You place your chin
    in the crook of my neck,
      sending shivers down my spine
                and I know it's time to unwind
The weekend floats in softly,
            mesmerized by time fading away
    beautifully
                    Stops me in my tracks
The week seems to drag on
          But you got my back
                 at the end of it all
             Racing through
the endless weekly marathon
     Our eyes and thoughts align
                    to this lovely phenomenon
        Cause it's not love
              without you and me
       This isn't just history
                                    in the making
        It's cartoons,
                   kush and coffee
    You're my Saturday morning, baby
             I'll love you through
                 all the days and weeks to come
     But lucky for us
        This weekends only just begun
Life is a thousand times more beautiful when you know you won't go through it alone.
He is more truly beautiful on the inside than anyone I've ever known.
He's always my rock when I'm trapped between a hard place and a pile of stones.
And I'll gladly live this life with him beside me as we travel into the unknown.
<3 Dash Cooper
Cautionary visions visit in viciously vivid fashion
I'm dead and my head is missing
Everyone is laughing
        
                     But me

And the sky is sorta dreary but I don't know
With no eyes you don't see too clearly

      Sew me a new one on,
Attached at the neck
Plastic instead of brittle skin and maybe then
     I can exist in some form above the normally gray and grim

    I pray to a faceless facade
            I made a "God" in my head
An eternal alternative to turn to and blame
   And claim to strangers that he works in mysterious ways
        My lips are chafed from singing unheard praises
  
        I'm tasteless and it has me thinking that maybe my mouth was only a product of my imagination
     Food for thought I chew and stop
           Its too **** hot for contemplation


      Still, I used to think my hands belonged to someone else
     Right up until I used them both to **** myself
And try to light em underneath an ocean's worth of crude oil
      That is forcing it's way into my lungs
            My high hopes hung their heads in the past as they waited to be hanged

               But now the concept of life felt empty and displayed itself as a delay
        A casual lack of oxygen shut off all process in the brain

                 And we are on our way.


~spark~           
                            

                      in the depths
              And the darkness fades to grey,
           **A less ambivalent shade.
I etched patterns into a tree with a pocket knife that had a red plastic handle
            Indentions such as these never stay
            Yet eternally we press against the world

        Hoping to make a mark that will shine in the daylight and glow in the dark
                    
~

           I'm a shriveled slice of the Americana pie
      With my soul on a swivel and the devil in my eyes


       Life was a son of a ***** with fists that spat dirt when it spoke
                And it ONLY screamed.
        
        
~

   I'm somewhere between *David Duchovny
and Stephen King
      And I'm trying to rip up manuscripts that I didn't write and I don't know who did.

      
Goodnight America. My patterns will explain my existence more than I ever could.
Depression has become an insulin injection
       A necessary evil

             Only required because I have been underneath it's moon so long

       Any other tide pull would surely drown me in confusion
Being interrupted by far off people making exceptionally loud sounds while trying to write poetry is exactly like having a horrible toothache and trying to perform a tracheotomy on a rabid cat.
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