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Joshua Haines Mar 2017
She wore a windbreaker as red
as her parents voting habits,
and smoked American Spirits
as rough as the next-door
skateboarder's hands.

At 18, she was bored by
teen-aged touch,
and looked towards the
thirty-five year-old avant-garde
painter, who meandered in his
sun room, like a soul
pretending to be lost.

At 20, her parents told her
to go to college, to go to
'some place other than here'.
So, she went and had skinny,
Greek fingers with chipped nail-polish,
dip down and inside of her, without
judgement, without thought, and,
with this touch, she felt free.

At 24, she was an undergrad with
an apartment and a guy named 'Blake',
and Blake said Brown and she said State.
And when Blake left, she felt complete
despite losing something meaningful.

And when her story started to go on forever,
her body spread across the pavement like
seeded jam on burnt toast, scraped thin,
without image and without future, lost
inside crevices and cracks, a memory
or thought, wandering nothingness.
John MacAyeal Dec 2013
Waitress carrying
Table in from sidewalk smiles
At a skateboarder
Jordan Jan 2013
be dumb if you dare stare into the center of a career, be smart but not wise, fall into the abyss and call it a life. today will be the same as tommorow a business suit and tie to strangle yourself with if you cant wait to die. never did i stop to see the point, always above this position lookin down and sayin **** this aint right. stop killing your soul with such a torture, society is no ******* use havent you heard chi pig's slaughter. So look at it like a skateboarder in a concrete jungle, no right way to move only obstacles to ponder, or better yet, dont even bother, do yourself a favour and keep your energy free to wonder.
JR Rhine Dec 2016
Vast, empty, midnight hour,
hunchbacked lampposts glaring over parasitic black earth
choking its host.

A parking lot,
an ecosystem’s blemish—
hot tar seeping into the pores of the earth
like a stubborn blackhead in a lip line.

When no cars burrow into the blackened hide
like lice
the great absence of life
is an atrocity.

I imagine myself skateboarding across the tier
as the small town cops
watch languidly with vague interest—

A skateboarder’s paradise
where wheels and accomplice minds roll across celestial barriers
blasting infinite pulses
into the microcosm.

What greasy punks have their mother’s van parked here,
huddling by the heat vents
and jerking off into a Pringle’s can?

Empty parking lot
looks like a cemetery
filled to the brim
where headstones meld
over a mass grave—

delineated by white lines,
the apparitions of vehicles and their hosts
haunt the frozen space.

Another horrible excuse
to waste land,
a wasteland in and of itself
where Tom Eliot saunters aimlessly
and buries the dead.

The saddest sight to behold,
this vacuous parking lot
littered with stray shopping carts,
phantasmal plastic bags,
gum splotches,
***** stains,
candy wrappers,
cigarette butts,
used condoms,
lonely cops
and patient drug dealers,
ambulant skaters,
tired punks,
bored teenagers,
somnambulists,
stumbling drunks,
hunchbacked ***** lights
prying for life beneath its sallow gaze—

The air encapsulated within the perdition
stifling,
the pavement below stifling,
a constriction only visible
when emptied of its contents.

A cop wakes from their choking nightmare gasping
to find themselves trapped,
****** in this parking lot
where the walkie-talkie buzzes
with the weeping and gnashing of teeth.

The warehouse store
looming above the waiting room
lifeless, silent, dark countenance—
Big Brother sees all in the gaping maw.

Cascading before me,
stretching towards the highway passing by,
waiting for the panorama to finish scrolling,
the treadmill to cease its cycle—
all the while lamenting life’s absence
and reveling in the potentiality it possesses.
Emelia Ruth Jul 2013
I open my window
and let strangers' breath flow through the screen
just hoping your exhale would be carried
from miles away through my window and onto my neck.
But I already know,
I'm going to be cold in the morning.

I leave my door open
so I can watch the shadows on the wall across the hallway
smear back and forth past my room,
just hoping your silhouette would walk into my doorway
But I already know,
the door will be closed in the morning.

I turn my music on
to drown out the quiet
to block the sound of plastic wheels on the pavement of the late-night-skateboarder
to slur the punctual tick of the clock
to wipe away the sounds of tears upon my cheeks.
But I already know,
the same sad song will be repeating in the morning.

I turn out my light
and pale in the absence,
hoping that when the sun rises in the morning
and its blinding blaze slips through the slits of the curtains
that your smile with be the brightest thing I see.
But I already know,
you wont be here to have your back turned to me.

I pull up my blankets
all the way up to my chin and past my forehead
baking myself in the smells of the sheets
trying to find the scent of you left in my fuzzy blanket from the night in the field.
But I already know,
I lost that months ago.

But I also know,
that I haven't lost you yet.

And I don't plan on it.
MereCat Mar 2015
I realised too late
That I should not have
Tidied us into separate picture frames
When we could
Perhaps
Have shared one between us
Like those other lovers
Who sit together on swings
And giddy themselves
And that I should not have
Scribbled over every thought
And possibility
And guess
I should not have hemmed back
The inch of romance
I once set aside for you
Because the only thing that stopped me
Was fear
You remain my one love story
The sole great un-requited affair
The unspoken words
Between each conversation line
The coffee stains on the pages of my novel
That will forever anticipate a you that is past
And you remain my one love story
You are the love story that I told myself
Was not love
And we were never anything other than silence
And holes in the conversation
Like dropped stitches
When we were twelve
You asked me out via someone else
And I stamped ******* your offered palm
Never stopping to learn
Whether you meant it
And I hope now that you did
Because then it is not so foolish to call you a love affair
And I still do not quite believe that I love you
Only
I saw you today
And my chest
Ceased to be that glacier it chooses to be
Pinned under the lining of every coat
I own
And you said
Hey!
And I hoped I wasn't imaging it
That you were pleased to see me
Because I know that the
Global Warming
Of my world had to be worth something to you
And I have always been something of an
Introvert
And you have always been something of a skateboarder
But you are immortal
In my
Sort-of
Maybe-not
Half-way
Down-trodden
Hold-back
Confused melting
As I paint the pavement
With the contents of my
Ribcage.
Inspired by me


And Between the Lines by Sara Bareilles
Wesley Espinosa Nov 2010
The winding never-ending road begins in the forest
The root of all evil is an exchange of nature’s breath
The root of all evil isn’t born in any sense
The root of all evil begins with a death

The carcass is driven to its’ after-life
It’s given a new face and a new shade of green
Most of it won’t make it to hell, every day it’s shredded
There is no reminder that what it is, isn’t what it seems

Each and every piece that makes it, starts in the same place
In this place it is still meaningless until claimed
It is then transferred for some purpose
Could be violence, could be music, could be life….

It continues on this-never ending path
The stock broker to get coffee
The coffee worker to get burgers
The burger griller to eat bread
The baker to ride a skateboard
The skateboarder to smoke ***
The drug dealer to get a weapon
The gun shop owner to have ***
The ******* to keep living
The pharmacist to play the market
The stock broker to….
We’ve reached the beginning again.

The root of all evil is our fuel to survive
Our fuel to achieve, our fuel to happiness, our fuel to wrath
So when does this stop and what happens when it dies
The root of all evil begins with a death, it’s a never ending path
This belongs to Wesley Espinosa.
Johnny Noiπ Dec 2018
Such as America, mothers of red female
daughters, African and Australian icons,
the world's black stars. Long colorful,
colorful, golden and black colors are
somewhat different but some are friends,
blue and Greek. In the Russian winter,
when Russians heard about money, they
became prostitutes. Robots, Smart Homes,
Homosexuals and All Right Hands,
United States, and the United States
are the symbols of Hell. Music
groups include music, games
and games for all Christians,
including silence, Christian youth,
southerners, westerners, now sunny,
Germany, airplanes and winter,
summer, indoors in Spain,
European episodes, weekends
and music. City of Crime, City Cities,
Texas Cities Tortugues City
of Dubuque Easy answer to escape
answering. At first I was very angry,
now Nelson's suspicious messages,
angelic messages, or wooden objects,
Lennie Paul de U. Between two centers
between the sun and the pearl.
Cover the sleeve. Tell them about
the sun hidden in the sun, sunshine
devices about the rising sun.
I was surprised to see the sun's
signs, the sun's signals, the sunlight,
and the sunlight in the sunlight.
A skateboarder and a truck driver
hook-up in California and Germany,
German, German, German, German,
German, fire, Greek troops traveled
by wind or hurled rocks, and Thomas
traveled to myths. Writing Latin,
Latin English. For example, in China,
Europe and Brazil, Germany, Sussex,
Spain, Ancient Robots, Sung, Penn,
Soccer and Xbox. . .English, Mega
Scyk, Rip Paras, Hot, Hot and Arabic
English and others were open. China
is located in the Oy! Fish, Fishing
Zone. Harrison and three-day
appointments. Sea and the Moon's
New Joy and Satan Below It. And his
feet were beneath his feet: His feet
were in his footsteps. Such
as in America, Mother, Red, Daughter,
daughters, African and Australian
icons, Black Stars of the World.
Longer, colorful, golden and black
colors have long been exceptional,
but some of them include friends,
blue and Greek. During the Russian
winter when Russians heard about
money, they were prostitutes. Robots,
Homes, Homosexuals and All who
are Right Handed, USA, United
States, are the idols of Hell.
Songs written in heart Music
lessons and games for all Christians,
including silence, Christians, youth,
southerners, westerners, now sun,
Germans, airplanes and summer,
summer, idol dance, Spain's
European episodes, weekends
and music and music. It's easy
to escape a simple answer to the city
Crime City Crime City's Towns
Texas City, Portuguese City
of Dubuque. At first I was very
upset, now it's Nelson's nicknaming
messages, angelic messages,
or wooden pricing, Lennie
Paul de U. It is the same
between the two corners between
the sun and the pearl. Cover
the powder coat. Tell you about
sunrise in sunny, sunny
weapons. I was surprised to see
signs of the sun, the sun's signs,
the sunlight, and the sunlight
in the jelly hours of the sun.
Ice skating in California
and a bicycle leader in front
of the fire. At that time
in Germany, Germany, Germany,
local fires were German. Greek
soldiers traveled by wind or rock,
and Thomas traveled to stories.
Writing, Latin, Latin, English.
For example, China, Europe
and Brazil, Germany, Sussex,
Spain, Ancient Robots, Sun,
Penn, Soccer and Xbox. . .
There were English and other
openings in England, Mega Said,
a RIPPED Pirro, Hot, Hot,
in Arabia and China is out
of the Oi fishery zones. Harrison
and three season counters.
The sea and the moon New joy
and the bottom of Satan.
Oh, his feet at his feet and
flesh are at his feet. Like
the United States mothers,
reds, females, girls, African
and Australian icons, black
stars of the world. The long,
colorful, colorful, golden
and black colors are somewhat
different, but some are friends,
blue and Greek. In the Russian
winter, when the Russians
heard about money, suddenly
they were prostitutes. Robots,
Homes, Homosexuals and All
Rights Hands, United States,
United States Symbols of Hell.
The music groups include music,
games and games for all
Christians including Christian
young people, southerners,
Westerners, now sunny Germans,
plane and summer, all summer,
inland Spain's European
episodes of weekends and late
week nights. Hidden Cities in Cities
The City of Terence; The Throne
City The easy answer to the challenge
of selecting a city of Tufts At first,
I was very angry, and now I was
between two centers between
suspicious messages, angelic messages
or the wooden objects of Nelson,
Lennie Paul of U. Cover the container.
Tell them about the sun over the sunrise
in the sunlight in the sun. I was
surprised to see the signs of the sun,
the signs of the sun, sunlight
and sunlight in the sun. A Scoot
Board in California and a truck
in California. Germany, Germany,
Germany, Germany, Germany,
Germany, Germany, Fire, Greek
soldiers traveled by wind or rock,
and Thomas traveled to mythology.
Writing, Latin, Latin, English.
For example, China, Europe
and Brazil, Germany, Sussex,
Spain, Ancient Robots, San, Penn,
Soccer and Xbox. . .English, Mega
Stick, Respspar, Hot, Hot Arabic
English and more. China is in
the area of ​​attraction of Oy
fish fishing. Harrison
and three-day appointments.
The sea and the moon's
New happiness, and Satan
below. And his feet were
under his feet. And his feet
were in the middle of it.
luci Sep 2014
BOY #1
his eyes were as blue
as the deepest sea
his touch
exciting
his voice
as beautiful as Beethoven's symphony 5
the things he said could make any girl
believe that he loved them
only thing is
he didn't give a ******* ****
about me

BOY #2
his hair was as puffy and soft
as a baby bunny's fur
his words touched me in ways
only hands should be able to
his lips fixed wounds I thought
only doctors can fix
a moment with him was never dull
the stories he told me made
me want him more
"i had to jump the wooden gate
the cops were after me"
I couldn't help but smile
I gave you me
and you gave me you
but did you give yourself
to me like how I gave myself
to you

BOY #3
the height of Mt Rushmore
the style of Skateboarder's new model
your jokes were funny
but the way you treated me
after you got what you wanted wasn't
we laid in your bed and you held my hand
I rested my head on your shoulders
I trusted you
but I wasn't anything important to you

BOY #4
skin
dark as night
innocence
like a child
you were different
I wasn't attracted to you
but you liked me
so I let you give yourself to me
and before I knew it
you told your mama I was "a mistake"
we were the talk of the school

BOY #5
his hair was as puffy and soft
as a baby bunny's fur
his words touched me in ways
only hands should be able to
his lips fixed wounds
I thought only doctors can fix
and by now you would assume I
would've learned already
but this boy like no other
this boy excites me
I cant help but want his attention
****** allure maybe
whatever it is
I need him

(not done)

— The End —