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"derailment" poems
Pray for the strength to be positive through the negatives, If you want to catch a break well first something has to give, So give your heart and mind to everything you do, As souls we perform wonders I just wish we only knew, Unknowing is true wisdom accepting what we can't grasp, It's ok we have today and it could be our last, In a way it is because it will never come again, And all the before and afters are really just pretend, This moment is peaceful if you recognize it as such, Life is a blank canvas and you hold the paint brush, Attachment is derailment for the peaceful train of thought, If you always want more you'll never be happy with what you've got, Loving what you have gives you everything you need, I am as I am this is the true meaning of to be.
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Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
Be-ing positive
I once knew a girl from a north country shore  as it was some place I had been to before. We had met one fine day going down the street each walking in opposite directions sweet. We were both minding our own business when an incident happened for us to meet then; some elderly lady with a shopping bag was coming along but got caught in a snag; one of her shoes on the uneven pavement nearly sent her headlong towards derailment. Fortunately for her we were both there to stop her from falling and to save the bag's spew. As we helped the lady and looked at each other we caught a gleam of light in our eyes to bother all preconceived notions of what life was about and it seemed we were both uneasy to find out. For we looked up and away with sighs of relief then back again at each other in disbelief. I couldn't help seeing then the look on her face; reflections of my own as from a mirrored place. Or was it an image from deep within my heart projected outward being therein from the start? What happened next was not so amazing to tell as we spoke certain words of greeting and farewell. ____________________________
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Sep 30, 2023
Sep 30, 2023 at 9:38 PM UTC
Girl From A North Country Shore
He can’t explain the pain Like boot prints on his brain And it only seems to subside When she is beside him. Then, it begins to slowly dim. When she is not around He can be found on the ground Screaming just like his head, Full of frenzied villagers instead Of what everyone else feels And thinks, as he again sinks Into that swamp of horror And anguish. Moreover, He knows he is alone in this. This is not from her kiss It is from its absence. He’s not addicted to absinthe Like some Victorian poet. He’s insane now and knows it. But she can calm mind In the deluge he always finds When she goes away a while. First he loses the desire to smile Then he can’t talk any more. He forgets what words are for. He only howls and raves. He knows nobody can save him. He has but to swim to shore From the wreck that is his peace. It is his only real release. It’s all that heals his soul. She has become the goal His only purpose in the world Is in the hands of this one girl; This woman, elevated to deity. His only true reality. How can this happen, he cries. He doesn’t understand the whys And wherefores that turns love, Completion and fulfillment Into horrifying derailment Of all his hopes and dreams And fills his heart with screams Like a little boy on a wrong bus. And nobody there to discuss things To help him see what is happening And why the one thing he cares for Doesn’t fulfill him anymore Unless she is here to hold his hand. He fails completely to understand. Brent Kincaid 2/13/2015
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
OBSSESSION
He can’t explain the pain Like boot prints on his brain And it only seems to subside When she is beside him. Then, it begins to slowly dim. When she is not around He can be found on the ground Screaming just like his head, Full of frenzied villagers instead Of what everyone else feels And thinks, as he again sinks Into that swamp of horror And anguish. Moreover, He knows he is alone in this. This is not from her kiss It is from its absence. He’s not addicted to absinthe Like some Victorian poet. He’s insane now and knows it. But she can calm mind In the deluge he always finds When she goes away a while. First he loses the desire to smile Then he can’t talk any more. He forgets what words are for. He only howls and raves. He knows nobody can save him. He has but to swim to shore From the wreck that is his peace. It is his only real release. It’s all that heals his soul. She has become the goal His only purpose in the world Is in the hands of this one girl; This woman, elevated to deity. His only true reality. How can this happen, he cries. He doesn’t understand the whys And wherefores that turns love, Completion and fulfillment Into horrifying derailment Of all his hopes and dreams And fills his heart with screams Like a little boy on a wrong bus. And nobody there to discuss things To help him see what is happening And why the one thing he cares for Doesn’t fulfill him anymore Unless she is here to hold his hand. He fails completely to understand. Brent Kincaid 2/13/2015
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52
when the sweethearts left, we took off our token smiles and overly-kind eyes. my roommate grabbed a beer, quickly ****** it off, i put on "beat connection" by lcd, and the derailment of the night began with some synth and burps. i made a *** of coffee, went outside, the neighbors were having a party, making a stew, grilling chicken, drinking, drinking, drinking, and exhaling enough smoke to signal the natives. "are you drinkin' coffee muthafucka?" "hi, i'm josh, and yes." "the name's chase." "nice to meet you." ******* before i knew it chase, our neighbors, and about three people i didn't know were in my apartment. chase looked at a picture of lennon in our living room. asked me my favorite beatles album. "probably sgt.peppers." "you like that gay **** "if that's gay **** yes i like gay **** he grunted with rednecker royalty. "the white album is probably my second favorite," i offered. "man, the white album is the **** there is nothing else." someone said they had some fire, if anyone was interested. everyone was. there was a dark-skinned boy, with snow white teeth and a fake afro, rapping as i clumsily played an acoustic. there was a 26-year-old ***** and his 43-year-old wife smoking a bowl in my bedroom, there was my roommate vomiting on the carpet, there was everyone and there was me. there was everyone and there was me.
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Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 3:33 PM UTC
"the white album is the ****
straight and easy is the path of righteousness The late childhood days and the early youth make seem so easy With passion and contentment I take it with ease With a smile and an eager heart I join the soldiers of the cross to tell of the master of it. Marching over was never hard . You see this path has so many perfect derailed paths attached to it. A perfect path of love has a path of hatred to it A path of joy has a path of sadness to it A path of peace has a path of war to it And yes this is a path of righteousness but with a derailment called sin Very tempting, absolutely charming My eyes glaze to this path and see no point of this path of righteousness. Great is your faithfulness O Lord But exciting is this path Or so it seems. One mistake Waiting on the path of righteousness to stare at this derailed path You see, an idle mind is the devils play ground The derailed path of danger Pulling so many to its fold Only by a simple glance.
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Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Derailed path
~ *Weather balloon for a hat propeller on his back morning is observably alive leaving it to atmospheric pressure he consumes today's newspaper with the enthusiasm of a bowl of Corn Flakes this Heath Robinson contraption of getting to work first over enemy lines is all the rage in his satirical state of mind that is until the absurd derailment of wartime employment and so he returns home with tubes and catheters attached to his body and feeling like one of the unwieldy machines he had so often created full of atmospheric pressure and apparently thinking it an undignified fate he pulls out the tubes and quietly dies of his own invention* ~
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Sep 15, 2022
Sep 15, 2022 at 1:28 PM UTC
The Bystander
This love began to dim, Due to the quiver of your chin. The desire to fulfill, No longer brings me thrill. Your hopes and all your dreams, Instilled inside of me. Our love could not commit, We fell into derailment. Longing glances turned to disapproving sighs. Dishonesty shining through your weak despondent eyes. Our legs intertwine, Fear pulsing at the base of my spine.    To stay with you, There’s no escape. From what you think, And what you take. This love caught fire, I burned you down. Dying to be touched, Craving to be found. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you. This love once so good, Became untrue.
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Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
This Love
Spun from tracks a one way Outlook seldom lends to a bright vision escape. I've come to grips with the losing side counted hours borrowed change. Where it all ends at sunset even beautiful is simply a passing moment all too soon forgotten. A needles sting in long sense forgotten fire, cleansed of existence and newly paved highway lent to a dead-end mindset may the ******** glorify this moment! For shallow truths seem to vanish in contemporary romance of addiction. A window seated view to the trains derailment is a one way trip not worth the mention? Embers of the spark have long since become outcast of the fire. Tonight I only need to connect in the worst way possible, can you spare a moment only to cast it in regret? Art is easy life is not the page simply an afterthought of our existence. Never cast in stone what would never take to mold to begin with. I never linger on others mistakes for I have far too many flaws of my own. To head off the rails is not to find solace in the legend, merely a side effect of life lived by the sword. We glorify the mistakes of others only to forget our own. The cast judgment and yet another bitter pill. How very tired of become of the scene. Maybe we embrace chaos only to chase some semblance of distorted peace. Maybe there was really no plan at all to begin with. We are the after effects of the wreckage left to be viewed far better than we truly ever were. A snowfalls mirage hides only with season, nothing shall stay buried forever. Captured a image and hold it closely . Say hello to delusion for me art was never intended to be safe. Off the rails was it's direction there is no glamour in an untimely fade. The intentions are always pure just somehow everything gets ****** up in the end. Remember it as you like.
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Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
Midnight Express
Spun from tracks a one way Outlook seldom lends to a bright vision escape. I've come to grips with the losing side counted hours borrowed change. Where it all ends at sunset even beautiful is simply a passing moment all too soon forgotten. A needles sting in long sense forgotten fire, cleansed of existence and newly paved highway lent to a dead-end mindset may the ******** glorify this moment! For shallow truths seem to vanish in contemporary romance of addiction. A window seated view to the trains derailment is a one way trip not worth the mention? Embers of the spark have long since become outcast of the fire. Tonight I only need to connect in the worst way possible, can you spare a moment only to cast it in regret? Art is easy life is not the page simply an afterthought of our existence. Never cast in stone what would never take to mold to begin with. I never linger on others mistakes for I have far too many flaws of my own. To head off the rails is not to find solace in the legend, merely a side effect of life lived by the sword. We glorify the mistakes of others only to forget our own. The cast judgment and yet another bitter pill. How very tired of become of the scene. Maybe we embrace chaos only to chase some semblance of distorted peace. Maybe there was really no plan at all to begin with. We are the after effects of the wreckage left to be viewed far better than we truly ever were. A snowfalls mirage hides only with season, nothing shall stay buried forever. Captured a image and hold it closely . Say hello to delusion for me art was never intended to be safe. Off the rails was it's direction there is no glamour in an untimely fade. The intentions are always pure just somehow everything gets ****** up in the end. Remember it as you like.
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24
Forgive, forget, heartbreak's only antidote. Unto chains of despair   I became one with solid ground. Only to realize, if the world was an oyster than I must be a pearl. Liberation struck me like a train, abrupt, showing no mercy, leaving the tracks a little messy. Indulging someone else is going to feel like conducting after a life altering derailment. Uncomfortable, unsafe. Nevertheless, I'll bottle up my remedy, with the intention of your freedom, but with the hope that you'll always remember your Annabelle Lee.
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Unbounded
in avoiding the mirror i avoid a constant reminder that i am not even half the woman i once dream t of becoming. half completed and scorched remains is all that remains of once ambitious blue prints. upon the question what caused the derailment no answer can be given. how do you formulate a solution if the source cannot be identified? continues moments of these form ties that relate to a rope in representing a life and in these ties its always advisable to add a extra tie called faith and prayer for it keeps the sanity, it strengthens the resolve of the rope to remain whole and helps to carry the weight. in this lies my hope
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 10:00 AM UTC
Untitled
twitching muscle above my right eye signifying stress and unexplored options reminding me that something sits, unresolved bouncing as a child in an inflatable wonderland neurotic nerve-ending, ending my peace pieces of broken mirror lay at my unshod feet maximizing rage, a scream passes chapped lips spittle gathering at the corners while lunacy takes hold 10,000 scenes pass by my inner-eye each with its own special irritant seeking to disrupt the easy-going nature put forth by sandals and elastic-waist(ed) short pants wasted years bothered by triviality sitting wasted, wasting my time and that of the government agency which employees this sorry *** gassed in class passing with class recoiling from the derailment I try to regroup but the short pants line has the tears too thick to type
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May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
hilarious outtake
You're staring at me from the picture frame My brain is inflamed with your name It's repetitious Almost fictitious You're thought vapor Remnants of a forgotten caper But your always there to some extent Like an ancient apocalyptic event You were chaotic Absolutely exotic A mystery in every sense With an air tight defense Against any interaction Any social transaction You were cold and unblinking No emotions just pure thinking At least on the outside But there was something you couldn't hide A glimpse of fire in your eyes Something that you despised I dug at it like a half starving miner Attempting to penetrate with bad one liners But I was rejected Completely misdirected But I kept at it Like an alcoholic with a bad habit You were defiant Completely self reliant And I was addicted Recently afflicted With this ailment Resulting in the complete derailment Of my sanity For the sake of your vanity I followed you like a hound to the the trail But to no avail
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Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
A Bad Habit
Henry bikes to the train station to face his fear and go into the city again. He makes it to the station and waits listening to the wind whistling quietly. He rests his eyes and is startled by the horn of the train. As he gathers his belongings and thoughts, he climbs upon the death trap. He is taken back as he places his foot on the step to the train; he hears a whisper say, “Death is closer than you think.” Knowing it was only his mind playing tricks, he steps in. The fear subsides as the train pulls out of port, and Henry quiets his cognitive dissonance saying to himself out loud, “it was only a freak accident.” As the spot for the last derailment approaches, his palms sweat and heart fills causing in to sink to his feet. Although, the crime scene passes, and so does his fear. Henry arrives to his destination and could not get off the train any faster. Thinking to himself, “That was a stupid idea, but now I’m here so no fretting.” Henry makes it to work and starts his daily routines, but eerie is his thoughts. Every sound causes the dreaded words to play back in his mind with enormous intensity.                                                               DEATH is closer to you than you think,                                                                          and he can smell your fear.                                                            DEATH is watching closer than you know,                                                                             *and he is always near. * Henry tries to shake off the feeling, but that just makes it worse. The traffic that comes with the hustle of a hospital is not helping at all, and causes Henry to constantly check over his shoulder. With each glance, he is expecting to see that black trench coat with the small-rimmed hat. Henry closes his eyes to keep from running, but that causes his nightmare to birth into a vivid picture. This makes Henry dart into to bathroom to throw up, and ultimately taking vacancy on the toilet seat. Through the crack he sees the man again. There stood the tall dark figure replacing his hat. Henry spoke no sound, not even a breath, to keep his location secret. Eventually the man leaves, and Henry believes his mind has gone crazy.
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Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Death Is Closer Than You Think: Part 5
Henry bikes to the train station to face his fear and go into the city again. He makes it to the station and waits listening to the wind whistling quietly. He rests his eyes and is startled by the horn of the train. As he gathers his belongings and thoughts, he climbs upon the death trap. He is taken back as he places his foot on the step to the train; he hears a whisper say, “Death is closer than you think.” Knowing it was only his mind playing tricks, he steps in. The fear subsides as the train pulls out of port, and Henry quiets his cognitive dissonance saying to himself out loud, “it was only a freak accident.” As the spot for the last derailment approaches, his palms sweat and heart fills causing in to sink to his feet. Although, the crime scene passes, and so does his fear. Henry arrives to his destination and could not get off the train any faster. Thinking to himself, “That was a stupid idea, but now I’m here so no fretting.” Henry makes it to work and starts his daily routines, but eerie is his thoughts. Every sound causes the dreaded words to play back in his mind with enormous intensity.                                                               DEATH is closer to you than you think,                                                                          and he can smell your fear.                                                            DEATH is watching closer than you know,                                                                             *and he is always near. * Henry tries to shake off the feeling, but that just makes it worse. The traffic that comes with the hustle of a hospital is not helping at all, and causes Henry to constantly check over his shoulder. With each glance, he is expecting to see that black trench coat with the small-rimmed hat. Henry closes his eyes to keep from running, but that causes his nightmare to birth into a vivid picture. This makes Henry dart into to bathroom to throw up, and ultimately taking vacancy on the toilet seat. Through the crack he sees the man again. There stood the tall dark figure replacing his hat. Henry spoke no sound, not even a breath, to keep his location secret. Eventually the man leaves, and Henry believes his mind has gone crazy.
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6
I rather be normal and healthy Than ever rich and wealthy. I'm tired of sickness and disease And by the time I'm 20, I'll have no knees. I've had a cyst, and now I have a tumor But at least nothing's stolen my sense of humor. At a single time, I had three threatening ailments  I'm like a train on the tracks racing towards derailment. I usually eat healthy and I run everyday, So why are am I always needing another x-ray? I'm a walking death trap, waiting to die But at this point, I don't know why. I'm invincible but dying So I'm sitting here sighing And enjoying the irony Of being dead, but also alive.
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Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
I Am Dying
I don't need love love never needs It's an illusion an arrangement that derailment I don't want love love never wants It's pollen lesion a depressive disease awaiting for a lease I can't beg for love for I owe no debt alone I came to live without butterflies in a lonesome cave I can't hurt for love for I have no tears or eclipsed fears moments are a brief test of one's essence
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Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
I don't need love (Piano Lyrics with audio)
it's pain missing someone you know you can never see again but it's a special kind of torture to miss the man sitting right next to me has he left yet? an imminent departure that looms ominously in the future concrete and yet nebulous in its heat-wrenching reality but am i not already gone departed from this bag of bones the sack of flesh that holds your hand physically next to you but miles away lost in the shadow world of haze and fog detached so that you can't be ripped from my heart or at least i won't be able to feel it like a ghost reaching for the tenuous solidity of life you slip right through my fingers the last drops of water in the barren wasteland of famine and drought sun scorched earth desert land parched with cracks running like fault lines and i'm waiting for the earthquake the meteor impact for a chasm to open up and devour me to take away my agency so i won't have to die by my own hand but what else am i to do? i am a rapidly swirling hurricane a typhoon of uncontrollable emotion and thoughts chained to the white matter tethered to my brain scratching away as a constant reminder that you're leaving and i'll once more be abandoned alone nothing but loneliness is a familiar friend am i a monster? or just a machine trundling towards the end of the tracks the derailment of my tenuous sanity and i welcome the carnage the shards of glass and twisted metal that harkens back to the burdening truth inside that i'm still here and the pain is unbearable and i'm broken like a swallow's shattered wing i try to fly but that gelatinous appendage can't bear me to the sky so i fall and pass you on the way down and i never expected you to catch me you didn't but your face that blur registering only as that unmistakeable longing that soul crushing emotion that settles in my heart and clogs the arteries until its furious beats are choked out but i welcome death because i live in those tenuous moments between the last heartbeat and the cessation of neural firings i'm drowning i can't keep my head above water but the burning in my lungs can't distract me from that ripping clawing terror in my chest and not even death can erase the gaping empty vacuum you leave in your wake.
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Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC
leave
it's pain missing someone you know you can never see again but it's a special kind of torture to miss the man sitting right next to me has he left yet? an imminent departure that looms ominously in the future concrete and yet nebulous in its heat-wrenching reality but am i not already gone departed from this bag of bones the sack of flesh that holds your hand physically next to you but miles away lost in the shadow world of haze and fog detached so that you can't be ripped from my heart or at least i won't be able to feel it like a ghost reaching for the tenuous solidity of life you slip right through my fingers the last drops of water in the barren wasteland of famine and drought sun scorched earth desert land parched with cracks running like fault lines and i'm waiting for the earthquake the meteor impact for a chasm to open up and devour me to take away my agency so i won't have to die by my own hand but what else am i to do? i am a rapidly swirling hurricane a typhoon of uncontrollable emotion and thoughts chained to the white matter tethered to my brain scratching away as a constant reminder that you're leaving and i'll once more be abandoned alone nothing but loneliness is a familiar friend am i a monster? or just a machine trundling towards the end of the tracks the derailment of my tenuous sanity and i welcome the carnage the shards of glass and twisted metal that harkens back to the burdening truth inside that i'm still here and the pain is unbearable and i'm broken like a swallow's shattered wing i try to fly but that gelatinous appendage can't bear me to the sky so i fall and pass you on the way down and i never expected you to catch me you didn't but your face that blur registering only as that unmistakeable longing that soul crushing emotion that settles in my heart and clogs the arteries until its furious beats are choked out but i welcome death because i live in those tenuous moments between the last heartbeat and the cessation of neural firings i'm drowning i can't keep my head above water but the burning in my lungs can't distract me from that ripping clawing terror in my chest and not even death can erase the gaping empty vacuum you leave in your wake.
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101
Days pass by like a speeding train Fast on its path and hard to derail Till someone comes by and interferes Trains do one thing and that's move Sometimes a bit hard getting started But once it happens it's a tank in motion So what happens to a derailed train hundreds of thousands of pounds all coming to an abrupt halt Crushing anything in its path A once solid steel unstoppable vehicle Now slowly slides to a halt The dust has been stirred Clouds are rolling leaving all affected by its derailment Lightly covered in dust To all who have been afflicted i'm sorry Why am i sorry you may ask I am the train. Metaphorically That is not once ounce of the pain i caused was intentional. I'd just like you all to know
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Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
Aftermath
And here, Ladies and gentlemen, Is my life’s reoccurring theme, Or motif, per say: You have certain expectations And requirements Waiting to be fulfilled. You build up a spectacular Amount of anticipation And collect quite the quantity Of anxious awaiting For simplistic disappointment And a derailment or detachment Of dented dreams. It’s pretty ******* pathetic. But you become apathetic And solve your problems By running away And discovering New things New people New toys New distractions And expectations And wait for the cracks To be filled. But it won’t. And it’s the sickest Most cruel cycle of cynicism I subject myself to.
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 11:26 PM UTC
An English Analysis
Pig body with a man's face eradicating the human race Possibly the opposite balance melons, call 'em **** The anger uprising OBEY surprising Read what it says on the back of my Oakleys Made in China Considered derailment Cannot understand the Satan in a man to commit the heinous crime of **** To another human being, for goodness sake! Prayer, prayer, with unanswered need. Read these words, take some heed None of us gain anything from the sin of greed.
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Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
Homicide, though it never were to be
I am not okay! But If I were to start now and tell you how I feel, I would stutter and  find no words sufficient enough to articulate the feelings, accumulated over the years. I have been strong for far too many years, my sanity is under involuntary control...it feels as if I am one touch away from derailment. If I fall now, would you catch me or would you let me be the victim of your lips as laughter fills your mouth...
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Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 5:21 PM UTC
I am strong
I think sometimes, When you fall too fast, When you begin to love someone too much, You start to brace yourself for the impact, The plane crash The train derailment The pain that you will feel when they leave you Because when you fall too hard And when you love just a little too much It never seems to work The pain is unavoidable And the worst part is I think you know it You know it from the very first moment The first time you look into their eyes When you first see their smile You know That eventually those eyes and that smile Will no longer give you life But be the demons that torture you inside when you want to sleep at 3am Trying to forget every word he had ever said to you You know You just know Yet you fall for it anyway ~b.d.o.
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
When you fall
I climbed aboard a train that took me Further and faster Than others on horseback. Yet now I'm desperate: The map is all wrong, These stations I pass are those I wanted most to avoid. I want to change direction, But see only miles and miles Of straight track ahead. Will there be another junction, A crossing of tracks, A way to reroute, To change course? Or is the only option Derailment?
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Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
To the Un-trained I
If I were asleep right now, you'd be all I dream I'd feel your warmth through the covers, so it seems But right now, as you sit in the passenger seat Of my parked car, I can't help but feel deceit Emanate from your gaze, your smile, your laugh How can you look me in the eye and say, "It's all in the past?" True, I know you're not perfect, but nobody is And I've no intention of being a perfect kid But listen to me when I tell you that my love for you is hopeless Hopelessly enduring, endeavoring, embracing Whatever painful realizations I might be facing Whatever derailment I'll have to follow through Whatever ******* mistake I may or may not do I just wanted you to know you are my hopeless everything Even as you close the passenger door behind you And tune out my words with some Broken Social Scene As you throw a stone through my car window And as the glass pierces my elbow As you elude me in a fit of tears That I know I've brought out of you, my dear As I drive away in silence Consoling myself through musical compliance Now, as I lie here in bed, I can't help but crave you I combat your warmth with the rush of a drug My second white girl, my first being you And as I stare at the ceiling, I see the glow-in-the-dark stars That you and I placed, calling the ceiling light Mars I find that I miss you, darling, I miss you so much But how can you miss something that you could never touch? A someone who never really loved you much A someone who exists only in dreams Well, I don't know...I'm frightened it seems To wake up from this and return to my loneliness This is my life, I guess....
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Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 9:20 PM UTC
Hopeless Love
If I were asleep right now, you'd be all I dream I'd feel your warmth through the covers, so it seems But right now, as you sit in the passenger seat Of my parked car, I can't help but feel deceit Emanate from your gaze, your smile, your laugh How can you look me in the eye and say, "It's all in the past?" True, I know you're not perfect, but nobody is And I've no intention of being a perfect kid But listen to me when I tell you that my love for you is hopeless Hopelessly enduring, endeavoring, embracing Whatever painful realizations I might be facing Whatever derailment I'll have to follow through Whatever ******* mistake I may or may not do I just wanted you to know you are my hopeless everything Even as you close the passenger door behind you And tune out my words with some Broken Social Scene As you throw a stone through my car window And as the glass pierces my elbow As you elude me in a fit of tears That I know I've brought out of you, my dear As I drive away in silence Consoling myself through musical compliance Now, as I lie here in bed, I can't help but crave you I combat your warmth with the rush of a drug My second white girl, my first being you And as I stare at the ceiling, I see the glow-in-the-dark stars That you and I placed, calling the ceiling light Mars I find that I miss you, darling, I miss you so much But how can you miss something that you could never touch? A someone who never really loved you much A someone who exists only in dreams Well, I don't know...I'm frightened it seems To wake up from this and return to my loneliness This is my life, I guess....
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34
The Port Lincoln with a headed green reminds of all the vanished love songs tires of doom and cages of hope some days the rawness cascaded burning my sole with remnant matters in a lovely world where we aspired with fixed attires that truly perspired At the heart of this desert bloom where nothingness claims attention at the hand of the sunken gloomy sun which prevails the dry land it scorches unveiling all the buried emotional cases of utter regret and unknown possibilities At the heart of the desert bloom where the rain fades inside the sandy dunes casting the breeze to the barren land with unconcern perils and derailment unveiling all the buried emotional cases of utter regret and unknown possibilities At the heart of a desert bloom on the silvery aligned amber bridge overlooking the stratified red rocks where guanos and snakes rest and arrest appeasing and hissing the untold secrets At the heart of the desert bloom on a mounted grill of unmovable waters lying meters deep, overlaid by the patch patterned with blackness and debris as a heavenly breeze whispers of beginnings At the heart of the desert bloom where the past was long laid and cast painted at the end of a two year past of prolific and demonic disengagement on passageways where all there is moves on
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Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
The Port Lincoln Psalm
Sober. It's an acquired state on mind. A conscious A quietness A fondness One may say, a heir achy, from you all. Drunk. Also an acquired state of mind. A derailment A letting go of it all An unseen hurting inside You don't know whats happened to that soul An incident so unforgiving its led to this black hole The judge in you thinks your above that sad being But in their own self conscious, it's trouble they are fleeing (Never judge what you never know) JJB
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Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 9:59 AM UTC
Demons