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Megan Hundley Mar 2012
falling over the stepping
stones I found my
way back to the purple
drapes however it was
colder than the last visit
the golden glimmer was
very gray maybe it was
the slice of harsh chemicals
that split my senses and made
my eyes water so I reached
for the tissues but knocked
over a sea of child proof caps
that cascaded to the
floor then there was
all sorts of ruined surprises
that I unwrapped too early
because I sometimes like to
get dressed up and pull the ribbon
away from boxes that say they
are for someone else so I shouldn't
try similar to the way I like the word off
limits and wrong similar to the way your doctor would
talk to your therapist after they saw your hair was
wet after surfing your secrets and I
imagined this all while running my whole hand
over the wooden vase that was half
carved and half ancient bark that kept together the
plastic sunflowers which the store promised
would never die and guests would be convinced they were freshly picked
but by a collection of side way glances I finally noticed my favorite spritz of
yellow did not begin and end with the texture of truth so I think I
would rather appreciate the vase and the yellow orange red pink
shapes on the center of my tongue so the shimmer of a clean
stentch can tickle my throat and later beg me to fall
so I can touch my face to the floor allowing the marble to ice my burning cheek
and I will join the child proof party confetti already
waiting and the gray overcast can make it
all alright
Traci Eklund Jul 2013
paint drips down your finger tips,opaque
the stentch of coffee, sweet colgne
engalfed in world far from what we've known

the stars are spinning, the world turns black
the fridged cold that wisps down your back
left there standing in a world familar, stone
but miles in thought in place called home

timid creature, a human being,
a man of wonder consumed by demons

where is the love you crave the most
a reflected shadow, a long past ghost.
the silent solitude grows and grows,
whos there to give answers, when you question why
to hold your shaking body, consumed by lies
where is there to wander,
when the foot prints have gone away
to make sense of these passing hours
morphing into days

bound to wood, a worn canvas, a man,
making sense of colour, the strokes, an extension of his hand
boiling over in sense of rage, across the palette a water haze
sensible man, turns his cheek in fear
I too turn away from the people I fear

the ones who betray,
the ones who you love,
the dreams you conjured,
the unknown you ponder,
the pursuit of happiness and love.

the reflection can be daunting
the person you see
I too am confussed which direction this life will carry me.

when the weight is heavy,
you can conflide in me.
or let the pencil be you guide
may the lines set you free.
may the shades of darkness and shades of light
give you comfort
may the hues of the seasons bring you closer to yourself,
or wallow in your tea and coffee,
sleep within your creation
explore your deepest wealth
life, the pursuit of learning to being human.
Dein Xceriis Mar 2012
Death help these limbs and these eyes
Staring into the abyss...
Lifeless and Searching they find
However, they're wasting their time

Filled up the place with the stentch
Willted, this feast of the flies...
In darkness, this plague of mind
A Suffering, so divine...

Life help these limbs and these eyes
Under the veil of the sun...
Fearless and numb they have won
Departed, they left for their son...  

Amongst the absence of stones  
Skincase, shroud of nothing...
In turning, machine of the gods
A vesseled, blistering mass

--

Flesh of the earth, open thine eyes
Rotting from birth, filter the lies
Flesh of the earth, a prison inside
All that is left , remains of mankind
Eve Jun 2017
my heart is not fragile
yet when im with you im agile
without you im not worthwhile

my words hardly stumble when i talk
but with you im even shaken when i walk
without you i gawk to find you like a hawk

my vision not too clear, can hardly tell things apart
however with you i see all with my heart
without you im barely even smart

i know not spanish dutch or french
but with you all love songs are sensed
without you all are stentch

with you all things beautiful
without you all things pitiful

i like things beautiful

       lets keep them beautiful.

-fir.m
Hey, is this for real?
I see the moon turn blood red
In the distance a wolf cries out
Hungry, smelling the stentch of my sweat
The dead stare in my eyes
How much I am scared
Of the madning of my soul

— The End —