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Francisco DH Feb 2013
Dear Gandia Guerrero,

Girl, I am going to miss you
like the world would miss the sun
Because you bring warmth to me
everyday that you are here

I am going to miss those times when you told me
That I was dumb, I was crazy cause
only you could tell me those things
With a smile on your face

You and me are like thick as theives
But don't theives leave
each other eventually
Lol, nah we ain't never going to do that
Cause I know our paths will cross some day

Keep your head up
Never let anything down except your hair.
Love you and I will miss you

Your BEST GUY FRIEND WHO WILL CRY WHEN YOU LEAVE,
WHO WILL MISS YOU
WHO WILL WIRTE TO YOU WHEN HE CAN
WHO LOVES YOU DEARLY

Francisco D.H
RAMLIGHT Jun 2012
In what dimension did I imagine this
Not a very happy one. I pulled and brought this onto my cosmic dust

Im sure it’s a door. For it has brought me to a plane
They are good times and they are
Well they
are the ones i bare on my back every single day

A couple of sweet caress and the day you stabbed my heart with some sort of hell inducing sin
One most try to understand these words as they hit


How to get rid of this love
It is getting rid of me
For some reason you keep getting pushed into my realm of life

With each time of horrible down
. I think, you think we all think

It would be over

But as if some magnetic pull of thought brings you here
Every month , every day of every year
Consequently
Bringing us here , and you with some horrible sense of taste
Drag the devil on your tale.
Ofcourse it would be you , after all it is your favorite thing
You seek the feeling , as you may call it
Like a ******* animal

Im just wondering I what dimension this will happen , after a night like I know you had. How do you come to me with your sweet seducing lips and your wide eyes pulling out a guitar in the middle of some rich peoples parking lot

playing a melody you concealed in your memory of what i bring to you.

Ofcourse I will be melting in this reality.

How does this even happen
time after time  we have seen hell together

Rock and roll saves my life
Time after time
Theres something in the sound of god it sounds a lot like Hendrix

Stop touching my face
I can touch it all I want you’ll say
It’s hard
What if really funny hipster music helped me say this to you.

But maybe I should speak in your language
You’ve got some nerve coming here
You stoled it all give it back
Thom yorke reminds me of us
After all it reminds me of you


And as this happens my phone rings your name
It hurts
Its hard
You know you should
but you don’t

give it back
how to get rid of this love of mine
how to forget those nights I cried
his reality is in another time where he can separate the truth by hoping the future is kept.

what dimension am I living
I should be in Colombia
Col-OM-bia
My spiritual home to you I shall return.

I wirte to remember I remember to forget
It seems to work im tired of thinking of you

I even ignored your call
For today is the first day of many days where I attempt the so far impossible.

I will forget you.
Jonas Feb 2021
You don't know me.
I read books, listen to music, watch movies, meet friends.
I cook, I bake, I drink,  sometimes to much.
I learn new things, sometimes not enough.
I work, eat, sleep , repeat.
I draw, I wirte, I exercise.
I try to date to the date.
I have good days and I have bad days.
I struggle everyday, more than you can see.
I do all these things, trying out new ways to be me,
  that you know nothing about.

Now you don't get to look down on,
Don't you dare try lecturing me.

For you left when I was a child
and didn't care to visit.
Now you're back in my life
but it's not for my good, is it?

I owe you nothing.
Keep your distance.
gotta love your family
Brandon Oct 2018
I must admit.
I delete.
Almost everything. I wirte.
I punctuate. And separate.
As a certain way. Of skirting trust.

I let it be. And let it live. By killing off. What it once was.

But might this oft'. Be better than.

Deleting.
Every. Thing at. Once.

?

I'm sure I know my answer
when I run my mouth for days
and spin so many words around
in quite a stunning haze
of blurry and tremendous racquet-thunder
bolt of gazes
through the open doors of heaven
and my feet can't find
my way out tangled
forest anchors
of my mind
when
I
can't
punctuate
the finer thoughts so well
or half the times
I can't recall
in my own life
though out of stride
maybe blessings unrevealed

I still need a signal of the ending
of the odder grandeur times
just as a message in need of a dot
to keep.
Things. In. Line.

It seems. There is. Not a difference. And. I still. Must stab. My sentence.s. with oh. So many. Dots. But I. can't let. My self. Go. Enough. To say. This right. So I'll. Just say.

It seems I can only keep my balance, when I "don't know" what to say.
This is a true account. A while back I deleted all of my old writing and since it seems I can't let my words breathe.
I suppose the reading of this is to simulate how closterphobic yet wild my creative energy felt for the time coming back to this.

Definitely glad to be writing something I can let be it's own thing again.

— The End —