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Experience is Everything and NothingEverything that has happened or will happen was meant to happen;However nothing was meant to last forever, even if it was intended to.So live life like you meant to do everything that you did do or intend to do.And don't worry if you or anyone else doesn't understand why everything happened.Just be thankful that you lived long enough to experience it all.
Let Go Hold OnEverything that matters or should matter let it goEvery person that ever loved you or will love you let them goEvery dream or wish you've ever had let them all goEvery wrong you never corrected just let goEvery hurt you ever felt or will know let them goEvery joy you may bring to others that brought joy to you let them all
goGiving up is easyBut holding onto all that is dear to you or that you'll ever care forIs what sets us apart from those that just give up and those that refuse to walk away
Master The ImpossibleMaster The ImpossiblePay complete attention to nothingand pay no attention to everything.And if you can do both at the same time,then you've managed to master the impossible.
All of These ChangesIt was a big day and a little day.Something's didn't really change at all,and something's changed very little,and something's changed in a really big way...but all of these changesare for right now temporary until things change again.To put it any simpler than this, changes were madeand changes for right now were made...but to just call them changes would be best then tocall them good or bad changes at all.I suppose that there's many positive ways at looking at today,but for right now the best thing that could be said about today is thatit's over and tomorrow looks much more hopeful than today had managed to be.
Shadowy MemoriesShadowy MemoriesMy past is a shadow,It goes wherever I goAnd when I die,My shadow will danceIn the light of the world no more.
skinny lovegave into skinny lovesneaking shy smilestrying his best not tokiss her wine-stained lips…& myhow she makes you happygive her more to drinkhow she loves her rum & cokeand she’d really like to dancewhile he’s never soberfrom her sweet lovestill in skinny lovewaiting to hold hertrying not tolook into her eyesthey’re too lovely…& myoh how you make her smilejust a little more to drinkalways has rum & coke to sparenever unsoberfrom her sweet, sweetskinny love.
NaPoWriMo: Day 8I was toldto slice through the thickestof scar tissue this evening.Let all my inner demonsfall to the floor& write them outin my own black blood.It’s not red anymore,even though needles& the bruiseslaid out like war-landson my armssay otherwise.I don’t think it ever was,honestly.Therapeutic,they said.My mind is a messof free versed insecurities,cat’s eye marbles,& untamed forest fires-but,I still don’t have the nerveto slice open my skin& bleed for her.
NaPoWriMo: Day 2sometimes,i have thissudden urge to cutmy hair.most of the time,i just wish I were anythingother than me.a rocket ship, a bird-the sweet flavored smokeI promised my girlfriendthese briar patch lungswould not in.hale.instead,i have fallen in lovewith the strangest of things-eyes that intimidategodless boys.the way my scarsplay hide and seekwith her hands. -the love lettersthat start and endwith kissespressed against limbs.i make promisesi know i can not keep.but if i were a liari would say i was tiredof writing to the stars.
the heart of a quiet girlbrown skin matches such raven hair& so it hangs frail like autumn leavesshe drips sorrow holdingviolet felt cosmos in her eyescarries herself so stiff& some wonder why she is so quiet(for that is her strongest sound)
when i had seasons in little handsto dance without the patter of rainwas the summer within its sun to holdcrept in a song of stars
HephaestusWe had this neighborwhen I was a boy,he was a bityounger than I was,his fatherrented the housenext door.He would come over,step over the knee-highfence thatseparated us.He would promise toshow us howto makefireworks.Daylight from ouryoung hands.He had us gatherall the petalsthat had fallenfrom our flowers.Dark violetsand blues.And once we hadpicked up allthe petals, hecupped his handsand threw themin the air.Wide-eyed andin wonder.I was disappointed,I expected him topull a lighter outand for somemysterious oilsin the flowers tocatch fire;to explode.I wantedreal magic.He threw them upagain, and I stilldidn't understand.
HateI hate youbecause I love youI hate youbecause you were my friendI hate youbecause I trusted youI hate youbecause you leftI hate myselfFor letting you go
MyiagrosYou went quietlyLike granite with finesseDays and nightsThe come down monsterI had a drinkSix, seven, eight moreAlways and sometimesCompletely nothingThe weeks of illnessBefore it pulled your eyes shutNo small talkJust plain, empty timeI walked to the store for smokesStruggled not to howlThere was fly paper nailed to the registerLegs still movingAnd I knew what they were buzzing forHell had found you first
.does a weedever wonderwhy it isn'ta flowerdoes a treeever feel likeits roots areholding itdown
this aftershave smells like uraniumI don't want to die without leaving a piss-stain on the planet, except the world is a skeleton, and everything already stinks of ammonia. An old woman once told me what it was like to climb trees, how she'd hook her legs around the branches and swing and watch birds fly upside-down above clouds coloured white instead of green. We don't get much of those any more. Trees. Birds. Old women. Wise bastards with something better to talk about than how we should live our lives. Eat your veg. Smile. Brush your fucking teeth. Nah, this old chick with her gnarled fingers and her crumpled smile and her reading glasses with the crooked frame, she talked about seagulls and conkers and sitting on the sides of little streams with her toes in the water, catching frogs and keeping them in jars and feeling bad because they missed the winding river. About how to grow real shit from real seeds in real earth that smelled like earth... that smelled like rotting leaves and seedlings and dew and not formaldeh
I wish I had more time..I was going to send this in a note in private to you.. but then I thought. Why should I hide these feelings and thoughts from the world? I am not ashamed or embarassed by my feelings So although I don't have any beautiful lines of poetry to make your heart melt and sing with joy and I don't have any dazzling gifts to give you. I will do my best to make my ordinary every day words do the same.I was thinking of you today; how your smile warms my heart.. and how your laugh makes me smile. How I get lost in your eyes each time I look into them, how your voice calms the storms in my heart and quiets the voices in my head. Because when you speak, You have my full attention and nothing will break it. Because there is nothing more important in my world than you. Nothing at all.And while lost in my thoughts for you, I couldn't help but wonder..How long will we be together?Will we be happily married?Will we have children together?Long walks and talks about our lives?Romantic even
The PromiseYou promised me, my love, you see, and I shall not forget.We climbed the tower stairs as the bell solemnly chimed."If life forbids our love, then in death we shall wed."You took my hand, we kissed our last, and off the edge we stepped.But you let go, so I alone, plunged into the night.But you promised me, my love, you see, and I shall not forget.So I wait for you now, my love, for I know you must regretYour eyes were flick'ring candles as you watched me die."If life forbids our love, then in death we shall wed."You'll see me there again, some night, waiting by the tower steps.You'll take my hand, I'll lead you up, up into the sky.You promised me, my love, you see, and I shall not forget.The bell will toll an exaltation, before we paint the ground deep red.I'll whisper back the words you spoke upon our midnight flight:"If life forbids our love, then in death we shall wed."I'll ghost a kiss across your lips, to steal your final breathThen look into your candle-eyes, and s
Dinner In a TombShe always did love pomegranates.She didn't know I'd poisoned them, when I left them on the table when she came to retrieve her belongings. She didn't know I'd already found a new place, that I'd set her a trap, a plan to bring her here, down, down into the catacombs that are now my kingdom.She stares at me now, dark circles beneath wide, empty eyes. I offer her another seed."Come now, my dear. Do have something to eat. You look deathly pale." I flash her a grin she ignores.I butter bread and place it in her cold hand. "I've arranged this feast, just for the two of us, and you haven't even the good graces to eat it?" Her blue lips offer no excuses for her rudeness.The bread slips from her hand. I retrieve it, curl her fingers around the crusty edge. "Try again, darling. You'll get the hang of it."I brush golden curls back from her bloodless face."I told you you'd never escape me. My hell is your hell, my love."
Ghost LoverI'm holding myself back,I am not going anywhere in life.I have no direction at all,No wind propelling my sails;Everything is deathly quiet.He's nowhere to be seen,I can't be with him physically,Strong water separates us.At times I feel I'm waitingFor him to break my heart.Empty promises like before,Everyone else is doing so muchBetter than what I've done.Some are married with childrenWhile I haven't got that at all.The distance is suffocating me;No guidance, no acceptance andCertainly no chance in us.Why am I holding tightly ontoA relationship that isn't there?There's no way of being together,We're just merely fooling ourselvesInto believing what is not true.I know he is not welcomed andHe has nobody's approval anymore.I sometimes yearn for more,Actually holding someone in my armsAnd to be able to see them each day.He is never going to provide meWith that choice no matter what.Everything is not going to plan,Everyone is telling me he has to go.He was eng
Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications areeasier to swallow down whenincandescence is a blessing bestowedonly upon those with silky tongues.deceptions are beautifulin the right wordsbecause they are salvation, like arapture, they save the sickly,self-indulgent souls from thosetragedies they used to write on the insidesof childhood notebooks about whothey could never be [themselves]they rescue them from tremulouscorners and closets, hideawayswhere they've grown too akin tothe demons they nurse; and dragthem into a land beautiful enoughto wear light as a second skin(where lies are never discussedbut always shared)clandestine deceitsare so much more comfortingthan the absoluteness of realitybecause self-resentment is asnatural as a heartbeat to thosewho were born breathing andabhorring and denying all from onesteady gasp of what the existent worldhad to offer to themback then their eyes opened, andtheir fingers fumbled, born, they realizedthe world wasn't as pretty as promi
Bacon and EggsBacon and EggsIf I should ever live to seeThe end of the world by one hundred and threeAnd know the sound that it makesWhen it breaksI hope it sounds like bacon and eggs.