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King Bacon Oct 2014
I see these recurring themes,
In my recurring dreams,
I can’t seem to encolor the world
my whole world is blowing gray,
and them recurring themes
I’m seeing seem to be scene securing
recurring dreams to my recurring days.

I was counting sheep,
hoping in some way it would amount to sleep,
I wasn’t even drowsy must of been about a thousand deep,
way up on some mountain peek,
somewhere where the clouds can speak,
If I don’t ****** fall asleep soon,
I think I’m about to leap.

Now I am falling like rain,
Someone is calling my name,
Woke up driving a car with some fool up all in my lane.
Saw some dude with a sign he said, “The end is coming soon”
Last night I swore I saw another moon.
Hoped out my tomb it must of been around eleven-ish,
The second moon said that the red moon is devilish,  
The red moon said,
“I can’t imagine what the hell it is to be in prison in your present tense,”
But when the sentence ends its possible if not probable there will be better friends,
stretchers and machine to give you medicine,

When the setting said go to bed again don’t forget me kid,
went to counting sheep and I woke up in a shepherd's skin.
softer than a leopard skin ,
wonder what the sheep the shepherds been,
another setting setting in,
another setting setting in
Now this is where the stress begins,
The wool was full with strings and scabs,
and all I could think of is I want to sleep so bad.

I looked up at the wall and I saw the clock was melting,
I fell to my hands and knees and then began collecting,
its stiff ***,
ran my finger tip through the tik toks.
They could trick my wrist like an handle filled with wrist watch,
That **** locked oh **** I wish that I could pick locks,
woke with a fist **** in a boxing ring.
The clock went ding,
My opponent was a clock.

God that clock started clocking me,
I don’t wanna punch my clock,
This is ****** sad,
Put a boxer in a box turn him into a punching bag,
Put a boxer in a box turn him into a punching bag,
I see this recurring themes,
In my recurring dreams,
I can’t seem to encolor the world
my whole world is blowing gray,
and the recurring themes
I’m seeing seem to be scene securing
recurring dreams to my recurring days.
Korey Miller Mar 2013
you said you had never
seen a girl who could drink
***** straight from the
cheap plastic bottle
its slow burn cauterizing
my mental wounds
allowing me to feel
comfortable about my
self, my body
entwined in sticky arms
under
the covers

and i said
i was not as green
as my missing four years
would encolor me
flushing my cheeks-
bare, words bare-*****
on your bare chest
fingers weaving
reassurances
through firey hair

but what i kept
close, behind closed
chapped lips
forbid to let slip
from cigarette-
burned lungs
was that never
had i ever
been nestled
so
close
to another fledgling
and yet
it felt
so natural to me
deleted, reposted.

— The End —