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 Feb 2015 Rachel Lyle
ruby stains
that *******
D R E S S
is **white and
G O L D
anyone who sees blue and black is batshit crazy. thank you~
 Feb 2015 Rachel Lyle
DC raw love
Don't cut out my paper heart
I'm not dead just yet

Take a look at my eye's full of fire
Never trust a filthy liar

Slipping into the *****
Singing the blues

All dressed for that special day
Yet I keep tripping on the news

I say that I'm not myself
But I'm not dead and I'm not for sale

So keep your bankroll lottery
Eat your salad days deathbed motorcade

You fake the heat and scratch the itch
With your skinned up knees and salty lips

I won't breathe your vick's vapor life
I cringe when you all purge alike

It's only getting harder to hold onto
Yet one more trip and I'll be gone

So I'll keep my head up
While you try to keep my life down

Take a breath and make it big
It's the last you'll ever get

Break your neck with that diamond noose
It's your last chance will you ever choose

Nobody will be my master
Soul searching is quite the notion

So just let me be
 Feb 2015 Rachel Lyle
Joe Cole
I'm thinking back to the times when I was camping last year
Sitting by a crackling log fire with Mollie at my feet
Watching the sun set over the trees
The smell of woodsmoke
Occasionally seeing a ghostly owl on silent wings
Hunting small creatures of the night
At such times I don't miss the company
Of mankind
I'm content with the solitude of the fields and woods
My only entertainment is what nature provides
The warm aroma of pine resin
The sweet song of the Nightingale
Who needs more than that?
I certainly don't
Out there in the woods I'm at peace with myself
I can put away the dark thoughts, the nightmares
Sometimes I will sit there until the early morning hours
Happy, content, not bothered by what tomorrows headlines
Might say
Unaware of the sadness, the daily death and destruction that makes the news
I look at faces on the moon
And in my mind see magic in the stars
Read stories in the crackling flames of the campfire
Solitude, peace, the time I love the most
Now approaching 70 years old I don't know how many more times I will have that peace and I'm not sure I would want to do it without Mollie. She's getting old and hasn't got to many years left
I am a figment of your imagination.
A product of your creation,
a mere fabrication,
your own fantastic notion.

I'm not real,
I'm not real,
I'm not real.

I felt so real, so live.
I just wanted to survive.
Let me come alive,
something for which to strive.

I'm not real.
I'm not real.
I am real.
 Feb 2015 Rachel Lyle
GaryFairy
Broken knuckles and broken thoughts
pain means I still have my breath
even on a path to nowhere
life never means any more or less

shattered life and a shattered mind
the pieces all together fit
even on a path to nowhere
keep moving and never quit
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