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 Oct 2019 Jeff Lewis
Everforest
We are beautiful,
like fresh flowers
born of ashes,
like dawn
after a moonless night.
 Oct 2019 Jeff Lewis
REY
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
No.. Just take it easy...
It's not her.

                               S̷h̵e̶'̴s̴ ̴h̷e̵r̵e̸,̶ ̶
                                             J̴o̷h̴n̴.̵.̶.̵

Shh.. No..
It's just cold.

                                              h̶e̵r̶ ̶c̷r̶i̸m̶s̶o̵n̸ ̸h̶a̷i̵r̸,̷
                                   l̷i̶k̶e̷ ̵y̴o̷u̶r̴ ̸b̸l̷o̴o̶d̷,̶

I'm aware of her...

                                                         ­  Í̷̘t̵̪̕ ̶͉͆ē̴͚͆x̵̞̏̾i̸͙̐̅s̴̲͍͊t̵̮̯̅s̵͔͋

It was 7 years ago..

                                                          ­            C̷̨͙̖̠̣̳̓͐͗Ō̴͚̗̖̣͍̾̄́L̵̪̪̭̓̿̔͛̏̃̈́D̸̤͍̗͑̍

She really was the first healer.



                                              C̵̊̽̑̑͑͛­̙̤͕͉̟͕̯̺͑Ȯ̸͔͚̺̝̲̺̝̿̂́̄͌̀L̶̼̤̓͊̓̕D̴̩͍̹̻͈̬̳̖̫́̒̌̈̾̇̀̎̋̔͌̈́͌͋


_ _ _ _ _ ... The years of grieving.


                          C̶̢̛̠̩̹͓̝̻͙͈͕̺̥͈̺͚̜̗̈̍̑́̿̅͝­O̸̧̡̫̦͓͎̗̮̜̦͎̬͖̖̙͍͍͉̺̥̍̓̈́̉̀͌̔̀͊̿̈́̃͑͑͊̏̕͘͘͜͝ͅL̵̛̜̱͈̋̏̈̉̀̉̀͋̑̈́̽̈D̸­̧̡̧̮̩̠͇͕̞͎̜̙͚̜͕̑͛̇̓̈́̆̐͂̚



I was never hugged before.
Until I met her.

                          S̶T̵A̶Y̸I̴N̷G̴ ̸O̶U̶T̵ ̵U̶N̸T̸I̴L̸ ̸
                                                T̵H̴E̶ ̴C̷O̵L̷D̶ ̸P̶E̵N̴E̸T̴R̴A̴T̶E̶D̶ ̵
                          T̴H̶E̴ ̷S̵K̸I̴N̸

But we got together 4 years later..

                                                        ­                 Ć̵̬̥Â̴̫̯R̴̝͛ͅ ̴͉͊̈Ä̸̼̲̓İ̵̟R̶̳̽̀ ̷̡͔̈F̷̙̙̆Ṛ̵́̋E̵̲̾̎Ş̷̻̀͘Ḧ̷̙́E̵̢͐͂Ṇ̷̢̆̓E̵̦̐R̵͖̐̓,̶͇̙́̓
         ­                                               ̶͉͔̿͋V̵̨̫͐A̴̯̔͛N̵̂­̙͜Ḯ̶͕L̷̼͊L̸̝̓͗A̷͙̙͠ ̷̥͇͑Ṩ̸̆Ć̷͓̟Ẻ̷̘̲̚N̶͙̖͗T̶͉͕̕S̷̛̙͂

... It's over, isn't it?

                            L̷o̸o̸k̴ ̷a̵t̸ ̴t̷h̵e̴ ̸l̷o̷c̷a̷t̵i̷o̷n̶ ̷a̸n̸d̵ ̸s̸e̶e̸ ̷t̶h̵e̶ ̵s̷i̵l̵h̴o̶u̷e̵t̸t̵e̴s̶ ̸

It's okay...

                            B̸͎͈̥͉̝͖̘͍̓̉̊̈́̌̏̅̀͂͝ů̵̊͆́͑͠­̧̘̻̖̟̩̘̑̚ͅt̸̤̥̲͙͕̝͊͒̾̍̊͊̍̀͜͝ ̶̡̩̼̭͇̀̿̌̌į̴̔͗t̸̡̲̪̘̠͇͎͇̫̙̗̐́͋͗̕͝'̵̢̥͕͓̲͈̇͒s̸̛̠͙̺͈̬͓͓͌̇̍̄́͊̒̈́̈́̕͝­̬ ̷̢̝̣͙̝̯̼̫̣̳͚̍ȏ̸̢̱̰͚̌̍́̉͌͐̀͝k̴̫̯̪̱͓̏̒â̵̲͙͖̟͈̼̙̮̰̔͆̓̌̀̐̏͝͝y̵͌́̃̌͛­̡̛̫̫̤͈̤̯̟̟̰̰̽̈͑̉͛͝











I̸͆͊͆̎̇̆̌͗͑͑̃͂̊̆̾͗̑̆̋̎̆͐͋̌̔̂̋̀͐́́͘̕­̨̢̧̢̨̨̢͇͙̠̙̯̟͉͙͖̖̱̦̬͙̲͓͕̻͈͓̺̳͍̯͈̳̪͊̎͊̔̌͑̃́̃̒͋̀̃͂̎̈͛̇̓͂̿͌̍̌̅͗̐͜͜͜͝­͖͎̻̦̦'̷̧̢̨̢̡̭̻͎͖͕͇͖̦̳͚̼̺̤̥̳̬̜̣̝͙̰̞͚͖̋̇̅̋̅̅͛͑̐̍̌͌́̇́͒́̓̃͊̈́́̈̋͘͝͠͝ͅ­̨̡̨̻̥̠̙̭̘̗̜͕̳̯̳͈̟̙͇̳̬̜͇̞̪͉͚͈̪̤̝͜ͅM̵̨̛͎̩̪̮̱̻̣̦͙̯̆̆͐̊̏͌̓̋̑̆̃͗̑͒̈́̅̀̚­̨̧̞̥̥̯͍͖̱̱͍͇̬͕͇̙̳̟͙̠̘̜͚̬̥̹͕̟͎̘͉̯̯̩̥͎̫͙̬̼̤̭̜̩͍͜ͅͅͅ ̴̨̛͈̼͙̞͕͕̣̓͒̃̂̍̓͛̆̂͒͊̃̽̃̾͌̆̆́͛̾̾̅̏̊̽̆͒̓̿̋͒͊͑̾̉́͋̐́́͂͊̿̀̎͛͘̚̕͝͝͠͝͠­̧̭̙̯̘̙̦͚͎̰̥S̴̛̛̾͛̅̊̉̾̅̃̒̉̅͂̓͗̐̈̏̈́͂̊͌͊̎͆͌̾͛̀́̈́͑̇͛̒̓̀̇́̕͘̕̕̚̚͘̕͘͠͝­͔̠͚̬̥̤̹͕̜͍̻̥̘͕̣͚̙̥̦̖̤̯̣̣͕͇̹̝̜͎͇͙̠̤͔̲͕̠̻̲́̆̈́̈́̑́̔͂̂̑̾͌͊͌̾̏͊̒̋͛́̒͠ͅT­̸͌̄̋̄̉̏͗̓̔̇̽͋̈́͗̉͂̌͊̆̍͊̊̈́͐̄͊͗̓̂̾̍͒̏̄̑́̌͒̈́͑̈́͊̇̈̆͂̓̌̆̑̐̅̈̀̍̚͘̕̚͘͘̚͠͠­̢̗̬̭̠͎̱̙͜I̵̛̛͆̑̇̓̀͒̂̔̆͑̓͛͗͊̑͐̃͂́͒̍̈̀̈́͌̑̀͆̅͑́̃͋͛͑͗͒́̋̒͊̾͆̈́͂͘̚͘͘̚̚͠­̧̛̰̺̖̗̥̩̩̝̭̻̞̠͖̫͚̮͔͇̺̮͙̮͉̯͚̟͕̹͍̺̮̝̩̰̝͇̼̺͎͍͙̜̹̙̈̎̓̐̄́̅̈́̀͗̆̅͘̕͜͜͜͝͠­̡̙̟͍̲̱͍͓͇̣̺͖̟̻͚L̶̛̛͑̊͋̅͗̑̏͂̆̎̐͂͊͂̍͛̾̄̉̆̀̓̀̒̿̒̔͛͊̏́͂͛̍̊̂̊͂̅̚̕͘͝͠͝͝­̡̧̨̡̧̱̥̮͇͙̙͚̟͖̬̻̪̳̺͍̭͍̙̭̪̬̘̙̠̰͍͍̟̼̬͓͚͈̘͉͇͓̰̥̳̥͙̬͓͚̋̉̍̃̅̏̋̐̄̋̽̉͗̚̚­̡̡̡̡̠̝̲̺͔̼̰̣͖͔̦͔̮̫̣̗̠̥̰͎L̴̨̛̛̛̼̜͖̪̘̼͈̼̲͍͇͋́̓̔̑̒͊̈́͗͒̀̏̀̓̑̿̊̓̚͜͝͠͝͠­̧̢̡͎̳̗̮̫̗̙͉͈̙̳͕̻̘̟̯̬ͅ ̵̢̛̗̼͚̪͕̝͇̝͉̣͍̠̬͔̺̽̇͌̾̑̅̑͐́̾̏̓̉̆͆̓̿͌̔͑͒́̍͑̔̽͌̇̐͐̎͌̐̑̂̈́̄̑̋̔̒͘͘̕̚͘­̦͕̱͉̳͉̮̭̟̮͎H̴̙͉͈̙͙̞̻̜̟̺̯͍̹͙̗̫̬̫͍̼͈̦̘̝̻͋̔̓͗̐̓́͋̆͆̚̚͘͝E̵̡̧͎̘͍͗̓̌̐̚͜­̢̢̢͓̲̮̪̗̮̰̗͈̮͉̲̠̰̼͍̩͉̠͇̦̼̰̤̮̪͜ͅR̵̃̔̔̀̈́͂̍̀͗͛̆̾͆́̀̌́̾̐́̔͆̔̒̐͑͘͘̕͝͠͠­̧̨̢̢̨̡̨͖͖͈̦͍̥̗̖̘̩̞̝͖̣͓͙̲̭̹̥͎̘͈̙̰̳̣̙̫͎̣̲͉̮͔̦̤̹̣̤̥̰̞̞͚̼̬͕̯̩̫̿̿́̚͜͝͠­̖ͅĘ̵̛̜͎̣̹̻͉̍̃́̇́̂̑̌̒̌̇͗̈́͒̈́̉̓̉̉͊̉̀̓̅̽̀̊̎̒̎͛͛͑͋͛̾̉͒̅͐̍̑̈̕̚͘͘͝͝͠͝͠͠­̢̢̨̧̧̢͍̠͚̺̠̮̟̩͖̙̗̣̦̱̤̰̝̰͔̯̱͍̺̪͔̞̪̞̥͍̹͇̼̮̖̲͜ͅͅ










__­_____
I won't just ignore this happened.. It happened.. It's okay..
Winter will stretch out his aged arms and show me the memories still remain.
I am going to have a dinner party
(my heart is set, do not try and
discourage me)
The psychiatrist asks, "How
long has this been going on?"
fuckingtwitfuckingassfucking
doctornowaren'tWEtwee?
my inner dialogue kicks in
without the slightest prompting
I am going to have a *******
dinner party and not even you
can stop me
(you see I lived in a hollowed out
shell was stuffed inside onetwothree
sometime in 1962  or was it '63?
I think I think at least I think
it was me
until
they dragged me out by
my leg and plopped me
down on this bug eaten
couch O
THE INDIGNITY)
I'm going to have a dinner party
then they'll see
this little dump here?
naturally it's only temporary
that's what they keep
telling me
but they won't, they won't
stop pulling at me,
rubber fitting for my mouth
"Bite down!" how bout how
bout say please? and the rest
of them they sit in a row
and tell me it's for the
electricity (who's
the crazy one now?)
I'm going to have a dinner party
and none of you can
stop me
Meh derl'n, meh dere
who laid meh heer,
lait'ly on meh bak
ta stere et theh stars
frum theh windo clere
an mite ev'n been fruhm
mars

Laid here fair an squair
ta tuch an tuch, o yoo
an so much, on theh
uth'r side fruhm meh

Lait'ly dere, throo
a vale of teres) yoo
luff, quake b'nethe
me brethe an awl
theh uth'r stuff
weel cullit quite
like deth meh
dere
phonetic representation of the drunken Scottish girl in my head
 Sep 2019 Jeff Lewis
B L Costello
Yeah, I’ll say it,
No, I am not scared,
It’s been here all day
Does anyone care?
Yes! I am sober,
I am not seeing pink,
We try to ignore it,
But frankly....it stinks,
Some ignore it,
Yes, I tried,
But something this big cannot be denied
Its bound to get messy,
Where is the broom,
Who let the elephant into the room?
©B L Costello 2018
Sometimes you can't ignore the obvious.
 Sep 2019 Jeff Lewis
lua
there was a moment in time
when death sat beside me on a park bench
and he had rested his hand on the gap between us

i,

too,

rested my hand there
and brushed my fingers against his

and for a chaste moment
i savoured the warmth of his skin
and intertwined my hand with his

but he stood up

and left

and maybe he knew,

it was for the better.
it was the right option
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