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Cné Dec 2017
From below
Desire climbs
Up the channels
Of my mind
Shot of whiskey
Glass of wine
Now the ladies
Are looking fine
From the top
Going down
Love strikes fast
When I'm around

From within
My idle mind
Sparks a flame
Of desire design
A shot of whiskey
A glass of wine
Now all the men
Are lookin fine
A little flirt
A little smile
I think I’ll stay
A little while

Traveler Tim
& Cné
Mark Edwards Jr May 2015
Waking up, another day, another sip to drown the pain, but **** it all and let it drain, and down it pours like falling rain. I do it all yet all in vain just like a ****** into their veins; to get a rush, emotions flushed, their minds they cleanse, it never ends.

Another hit, another bump, another shot I'm waking up. Hit me hard, hit me now, just one more, just let me drown. I crave escape, I cannot wait, the demons wail, hot on my trail, in my pursuit they never fail. My thoughts collapse, I'm feeling trapped, my true potential remains untapped.

A complete disgrace, the years erased, and through it all I cannot face, the things I've said and things I've done, the pathetic man that I've become. To those I've known, those I've loved, to parents who miss their fading son; just me forget, I won't regret, no consequence I'll ever fret.

Just one last drink and I'll be fine, disillusioned lullabies, to keep me safe, keep me warm, I only need what I've come to scorn, but such is life and so I'll fade, like a distant sun when cometh rain, just one last time to cleanse the pain, an empty shell, all that remains.

Tori Ginter Jul 11
You didn’t even call...
I told on Monday how I’d only had a couple days till I was gone.
But that wasn’t enough for you
I’d have to be dying in order for you to call
Little do you know I am, it’s why I must leave this place that is killing me slowly.
But I still have hope
A dream
You’ll be standing there at the end of the aisle right before I  board.
I will drop my bags and run as fast as I can into you
You’ll be the excuse I’ve been looking for to stay
But the reality is
You’re the excuse that makes me have to leave.
Your silence screams leave more than goodbye
Kate G Jul 2017
It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
The hour where naught is awake but
Lovers and dreamers
And those deemed too far gone by the rest of us
To which we send a wilting flower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
And I sit upon a lush coven of cotton and broken dreams
And peer into the crisp, aging pages of a crisp, aging story
To dissolve away the alms that haunt my hollow tower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
And I mourn
I mourn the loss of love
And the loss of hope
I mourn a loss I have known so well
As well as a loss I have never myself felt
Tied, side by side, in a waking melancholy sour.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour
And doves less mournful than I have passed on to sleep
And he, as I dream, is far away and dead to me
Still dear to me
And I reach out, into the darkness of the night
And end the mourning hour.
GreenTrees Aug 2017
Sand castles drifting into the wayward sea.
As the last tower falls I feel complete.

My spirit escaping to unknown shores...

© Karl V. (2017)
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