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"scarping" poems
Pelvic bone to pelvic bone We are fused together. Some type of warped conjoined twin syndrome. Chin to chin. Lip to lip to lip to lip. Our lips are touching but we are not kissing. Cheek to cheek. Fingertips scarping against fingertips. There’s a theory in physics That states You are never really touching anything, Only the space in between. Sometimes I think we are the very definition of this theory. We push closer But we never touch. I cannot feel your kiss pressing up against my neck. I cannot feel your teeth tugging at the skin on my collarbone. I cannot feel your saliva intermingling with my own. You are sitting next to me on the couch But I do not feel The bend your body makes. I do not feel the dip of cushion. Your hand is nothing more than An anchor keeping me grounded on Earth. We are perpendicular lines But it feels like we’re parallel
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Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
Always Touching, Never Feeling
as mean drops fall without those intentions i flick a bic and steal oxygen from lungs with fake friends, outside "humans" without dreams toss hands in the air for funds they have but autos in garages are scared. memories break the glass in my thoughts for there are folks here that love things i'm not i'd be with a lover, and not have a heart for her, she'd cling to me as barnacles do but i'd  be the child scarping an itch, inflicting self conscious wounds. run and hide all women, for there are things that i need, i'll please you in sheets and kitchens but if you want my heart, i'll leave you hungry that's just something i said before i love you that means if you don't i'll just live till the casket alone
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May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 6:57 PM UTC
yesterdays thoughts
One bullet. Two bullet. Three. Each one stabbing at me. My legs scarping against the floor as I walk, my arms droop like a puppet that lost its strings, but you know what, this creature in human form, that's come to my school, trying to ****** children so small, who haven't lived at all. Who punched me so hard, I flew backwards what felt like 20 feet, and who laughed in my face, as I fell beneath. But it does not matter, even though it should, as my body scraped against hard wood. All my body raged with pain, but I stood up anyway, because all the sorrow and bullying I have endured, its wrong to let this creature rule. So I stand, my body wilted and crinkled, under the weight of my wounds that have been sprinkled. I cannot give up, I will not. I started the sombre walk, hearing Pop Pop Pop And just as I reached his gainly figure, I quivered, the flicker of my soul, starting to waver in the face of danger. But I ignored it, because of the other more brighter flickers of new lives. So instead of blowing my candle, I looked right into the eyes of the devil.
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Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 4:10 PM UTC
Shoot me down, but I WILL GET BACK UP
Can you hear them now; The white lights exploding above our heads? Sweet smell of smoke and canned peaches. The door shakes violently against the concrete walls. Steel can make such a horrid noise. Scratching and scarping of it like nails on a chalk board. Aww, your shaking, Like a puppy in the rain. Why are you scared? I told you we are safe. I will let no one or thing hurt you. Pat , Pat , Pat your head, Your safe with me, I love you dear. No soldiers will take you, No bombs will burn out your light, No amount of smoke will **** us; No fear in this bomb shelter tonight.
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Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 1:47 AM UTC
Can you hear them?
Connemara morning early iron grey sky scarping waves of sharp and tempered steel and a sun barely creeping on peaty bog and marshy sheep-shod field here dwelt the silent ones fertile gods of Erin's clan who fed the earth and coaxed the land solemn faces watch us still through smoky mist on emerald hill
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Mar 26, 2024
Mar 26, 2024 at 12:42 PM UTC
Connemara Morning Early
again sweat everywhere trees deep fried bushes agonizing brown air water-full sun scarping flesh life droops sags lolls its tongue
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Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
It's August