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Kam Jul 2018
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
—V.H.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
observation
lady in red
imagination
in my head
flirtation
“someone said,
in a book I read,
that men are misled:
beauty kills us dead.”
frustration
get out of my head!
jubilation
“To where shall we head?”
hesitation
“my creaky twin
or a hotel bed?”
migration
our minds are led
by hurried legs
pulsation
as her lips, red,
push me to the bed
excitation
tinged with dread
salivation
ventilation
transpiration
saturation
*******­
annihilation
Rapped version: https://vimeo.com/286097673
(password is "stand").
Myth

"Observable phenomena's effect on the human condition."


Mythology

"Utilizing knowledge acquired during human existence to better understand the inexplicable through language."


History

"The perception of past events or knowledge altered by the present human condition."


Technology

"Mankind's attempt to eradicate God and Nature in order to determine whether or not there is life after death."


APOPTOSIS

"Programmed Cell Death."
But it wouldn't hurt to send a Yakuza biker called Keyser Suzaki
as an agent of embracery, who'll hurt any justice nuts amongst
the jury, mow Magnacarta hardliners down doubly with his sports-
bike and his katana. For should goddess Pomeroy pointedly
forgot to blindfold prove totem like Diphoterine t'any o'
that 12, who should have been crying blind ( tho' their
intimidator was trained in Tokyo Road Rash Kendo,
not sprayin' Captor), then they'll send Deathreat Man
to deathrebtors' gaol in a blackmaria like Batman's campervan.
Shamans, in an attempt to find a word that all cultures could understand, to represent, universally, the subject; married the languages by root.

Each attribute or thing that the beast is said to do, have or have power to do or over is found as a definition in a language of the individual roots.

Take Sanskrit for instance. "Dra," is "water and combine it with Sumerian, "Gun, Gon," and you get a "water-born," beast who "writhes, twists or wraps around," which is the Ouroboros Serpent as shown in ancient images.

The secret to all ancient myth or religion is in interpretation of language into foreign languages over time.

And, yes, it is very creative, appears complex due to time but is just humans trying to describe observable nature.

None of it is meant to be taken literally unless you literally live six thousand years ago and speak in an ancient tongue.

Addendum

Keltic, "Con, Kon," makes the Dragon, "All-knowing." *

And we know from Plato that Greeks
stole their root words from the Celts.
Plato's own words in,

'The Cratylus.'
All mythology is born from the language of trade and existed as a pre-science.
Kim McCarthy Apr 2013
Stress will always be there
It's a common fact of life
Only focus on the important few
Like The Job, The Kids, The Wife

Avoid all insanity & madness
Ensure that it's made clear
You'll have no part of the drama
We find mixed in here and there

Although one can't avoid it all
One also doesn't have to get involved
Just remove yourself from the situation
And don't return until it's solved

You can not lie to yourself
Just like you can't make others see
As long as you know who you are
Who gives a (bleep) if all agree

Remember your freedom of choice
And that it's ultimately up to you
Some things may be worth the effort
If not, move onto something new

*
Weigh out the pros and cons
At times the cons just weigh alot
Allow yourself to walk away
Without guilt or second thought
Meteo Nov 2015
Some nights I leave the door unlocked, though there is no proof, they are still after me. You are the last place I look for lost things. If I could stop thinking about you I would tell my psychiatrist but I wouldn't tell my priest. There is a lifetimes worth of new years promises pending upon your lips, nothing gets me through most nights like practicing in front of a mirror. I believe the fire inside of you will burn me, but I know no other way to get close to you.

Some nights I dream of you backwards and leave the doors unlocked, if you walked out on me, then I would know one of us wasn't telling the truth.

Lighthouses on purpose, fire escapes on mute. I am the patron Saint of second chances, I count the heartbeats away from you. I believe in nothing else. There is a rock in my breast pocket, I don't know how it got there, but it reminds me of you.
Khoi-San May 19
The
pain
of
silence
is
written
in
shame
always
unopened
crying
in
vain
Any behavioral change must be treated
as
a
sign
that something is wrong
Dark Fjord Nov 2016
I am sorry, to forgive  
who moved your flower
to push your knees apart to know.

in thy choir, I wrote to kneel-
When we met in thy vespers hour -

and in the between
your feasts were great
and we kissed  the greats of choir.

I left not one wounded man behind.
toward the darkness of notes I go.
Mykarocknrollin Mar 2015
the more words
the more it hurts
the more it may be real
the more it might be true
cause baby before you do it
you had sealed my lips already
to talk
to kiss
to say
that we are meant to be
hope this last until it can
cause rules are destined to be broken
but not those who are really forgotten
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