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Timothy Brown Jul 2013
Suitcase

Traveling wide

What do you need to go?

Contents of your chest in a chest.

Decorative boxes

Clothes, toiletries

Home bound
Written for a friend.
© July 5th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
Timothy Brown Jul 2013
I woke up in a wall-ball court
underneath the Arizona sun.
I was homeless and broke,
hundreds of miles away from where I begun.
No food to eat.  No water to drink
which is a death sentence in that kind of heat.
Just ***** clothes, an empty wallet
and my heartbeat.

It was a quest of love that brought me here.
A short, hispanic woman with red hair.
She was the person I meant when I said "dear"
Honestly, I would have done anything for her on a dare.
Even though being with her made me want to disappear,
when I was without her I was living in despair.

I got off the sweaty concrete
and marched back to the house of cards
we called a home.
I found the apartment
absent of her presence
so to the streets I roamed.
Nothing in my body
but heat cramps and passion
I searched over and under
the whole **** desert I must have combed.

I found her in the same spot we separated from
smoking a cigarette, I think it was a #27.
Laughing and reading but emotionally numb
to my exhaustion. I just turned and walked away ashamed of the man I had become.
Written for a friend
© July 4th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
Timothy Brown Jul 2013
A ghost use to be something I was.
I'd pop up, do some crazy stuff
and disappear, just because.

Even though my interactions were brief,
I changed the lives of the people I encountered.
Due to this, my disappearances caused much grief.

I've turned that nasty habit into something constructive.
A series of poems, the contents uncorrelated.
Still, the theme is reproductive.

They are all random thoughts and incomplete theories
A complex ball of conflicting emotions.
I'm talking, of course about my "Ghost" series!
Written for a friend
© July 4th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
Timothy Brown Jul 2013
My little piece of security,
hiding me
from the monsters under my bed.

Every single thread
with love have has been fed
as every night we cuddle.

When my head is in a muddle
or the storms make me huddle,
my blanket is by my side.

There's been so many tears it's dried.
In my best dreams, it was the guide.
It is wonderfully soft and soothing.

On rainy days it's uplifting.
When my world's ending , it's encouraging.
That's why I'll always love my blankie!
Written for a friend.
© July 4th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
Timothy Brown Jul 2013
Infatuated
with a woman I won't meet.
She took her own life.
© July 3rd, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
Timothy Brown Jul 2013
I am. I am. I
am unsure of what I am.
I am too human.
© July 3rd, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
Timothy Brown Jul 2013
Catapulted into a torrent.
Flung and spun
in an abhorrent pun

A flow of disease
oozes like melted ice-cream
over me in a breeze on a high beam.

It's disgusting
how you can sit with a smirk
and watch me combusting and ****.

Needless to say,
I just laughed at how karma cascades
cause the person you left me for that day gave you Aids.
Written for a friend
© July 3rd, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
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