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Glass half full...The blissful life of an optimist
The dreary life of a pessimist
Unfortunately end the same.
Burnt, buried, or eaten by bears
Rotting, destroyed as everyone stares
At ones procession.
We wander through life looking for answers
But lend me a moment of consideration sirs,
For what if you stop looking at the glass
Be it half empty or full
And look at it instead, by its contents.
For maybe, just maybe the liquid the glass presents
Don't look at meI don't see you around
I avoid you and your friends
they used to be mine
but then again so were you
I dodge your gaze
I keep your contact at bay
all to keep my feelings away
I don't want them,
I don't need them,
I don't want you at all.
And I don't need you.
We're not really friends
more like neighbors nowadays.
I can't handle us talking anyway.
Don't look at me, I won't look back
Don't wave, don't call
Don't speak, don't follow
I will walk but I will not talk
This boy's no good
I can't treat you
how you should
Don't look at this,
this fragile soul
I'll just shy away again
fade into obscurity
and watch you be happy
Gone...But not forgotten...Our toys get old and break
Clothes are worn and torn
Death takes from our lives
Though they are gone, they are not forgotten.
Friends come and go
Fashions race and eventually slow
Trends catch us then we say "no"
They may be gone and though we try
They are not forgotten.
Series start and end
Wounds open and begin to mend
Songs stop speaking their message to us
Though we feel them, they are gone
and often forgotten.
What's loved is always lost
Our attachment determines it's final cost
Only when we forget is something truly gone
If you love it, keep it close
If you've lost it, remember it always
Live like you're dying, love like you're losing
Time and time again.On my bed I am resting now.
Just alone with my thoughts,
A glance to the clock: 1:47.
My thoughts drift to your face
But why? Why do I think of you
When my feelings go unheard
By not just you but me?
Do you think of me? Do you miss me?
I think of you... time and time again.
I miss you, most when the sky is dark
And no one is around to hold.
I want you to be happy
I know you won't be, with me.
I beat this guy to the punch
But he has the last laugh
Our time was brief, I loved every second.
I loved you but to no avail.
I'll pull the plug and take what's left of me
With me into the unknown depths
I need to leave,
Let you live your life without me.
And only think of you, time... and time again.
Writers Block DefeatedPlease sit back and let me make you a rhyme,
It's sad and sweet but won't take much time.
This rhyme is short and meter it's cohort,
making me, early, resign.
I don't love myself, let's make this very clear.
So hard i find it to believe each year,
Those who reciprocate
Affection to a being I, myself, hate.
She came along and filled my life
But without her i knew only sadness and strife.
Relief comes in mornings
When for brief spells her face won't appear
When I don't know the mourning
Feelings of what I foolishly lost, their heads, rear.
The day I knew we couldn't be together
I hoped I could still stay locked away in your heart...
I will never regret trying because you were exactly
what I wanted
I'll be there...waiting at your door
Hoping one day fate has in store
For me a second chance...
To have our first dance, under the crying clouds...
My tale is now at an end, I went
Off and now my prose is spent.
Goodnight world, goodnight moon.
I hope to join you in the sky, looking
Untitled VIeach and every day
i meander through my life
seemingly in blissful ignorance
but the things i dont say
fill every moment with strife
and deprive myself of all significance
my life goes by while i sit and listen
to the problems others have in their lives
while under my skin
i'm screaming at the top of my lungs
but my cries go unnoticed
i'm done and i'm through
and i am finished with you
you all and your petty obsessions
i have them as well
and we all have to solve them
in this life that does not seem worth it
to the random few who see what i see
and can relate to being robbed of ones senses
to see the truths in this lie we call life
the truths of people and
their inability to deal with their pretenses
each grain of sand
falling from their hourglasses
their flailing arms
grabbing to bring down anyone
they feel will slow their decent
i cant please you all
so i will choose
a certain few, the chosen
they will lose
me, a small price for their transgressions
and continue with their
Full CircleAll of my life I've done things i have not been proud of
they are the reasons i treat myself so harshly
the reasons i don't deserve to be happy in this life time
these travesties done unto to the people I've cared about the most
make them one by one all slip away and leave me
in recent months my past has come to reap the fruit of my transgressions
my evils placed on the heads of my beloved...
the ones that i didnt appreciate until they were gone
if by taking my own life i can make things right
or by removing myself from the lives of all i care about
i can make things right i will...
i hate what i am, was, and will become
nothing good can be spawned from evil
so i will live on, alone, lonely because of my own foolishness
while i sit here, my heart, like a glacier
i watch it dissipate...i searched for love in this empty world
all i found was hate
to the ones that care, the ones that i haven't harmed
i'm sorry, for what i will do, what i will not give myself the chance to
i need to get aw
my bleeding ultamatumThere are times that others do things to get me going
Like when they pick fun at my friends or my sewing
I try to retain my composure but it seldom works out well
Im shaken in my cage as my rage rises and my veins swell
Ill tell you now that if you make my friends hurt
Ill assure you a ruined life and a home in the dirt
As I lie here and pant, its comes into focus
The reason that the unstable ones try to evoke us
And take from us the only things that give our lives meaning
For some its our own lives that are demeaning
And for as little as they are worth we still defend them
But for the little guy, the one with no self worth about him
Can still find a purpose to life if he makes something of it
If they just look for someone to protect and simply care for
No matter what happens to them and no matter what happened before
My bleeding oath is simply this
I dont care what happens, I wont miss
I dont care how far I wont stop
Until I manage to ma
emptinesswhat happens when the spirit dies,
and its body remains while its host cries?
we struggle through life against the lies...
at the end of the day our strife shows through sighs.
when does the line between being hurt
and being empty become distorted and burnt
out of our burning hatred and being thrown in the dirt
why does it all matter in the end?
is it the idea that we condescend
on fate and believe we can change it?
i'm done bleeding ignorance and
we're all going to die in the end
so whats the point of our stand
against what is coming and we cant stop
my life has promised happiness
and all its givin me is lonliness
we're all just souls on sale
and our buyers are waiting for us to fail
so they can laugh at our screams
and watch us fall apart
ground into dust,
while we bleed and lust
for a better time when we
didnt have to have to see
the world for what it really is...
DollBarbie’s thighs were not meant to touch;
her hair is devoid of split ends
and there's this deadness in her eyes,
impossible to mimic—a quiet crawlspace without light.
There's a pastel pale to her skin,
hairless and unblemished,
a blank un-crevice between her legs
and her rouge-stained lips are ever smiling.
She is nothing like you, child.
But do not forget
that she borrows your voice.
Liquor is one way out an'death's the other The art of growing up,
is to pour shots of whiskey
into your coffee in the morning
to make it through
when all you want to do
is lie in bed
but there’s nothing
The tragedy of the mook and how it died one dayThe fickle sky presses
Against the glass of the windows
And the dry strung up heat of the winter sun
Spilled over the anemic asphalt
Our shadows seared into the bottom of our sneakers
Moving with a sort of blithe nonchalance
Searching for the speckled grey of a familiar horizon
The apathetic footsteps and my clenched hands
Quiver beneath the setting sun’s bloody smear
Across the over populated sky
That was no longer clear
Rather it was the looking glass phenomena
Spread eagled across my retinas
And during those grief stricken days spent
Hanging off your rooftops and skylines
I've contemplated replacing
my heart with another
Liver so I can
Drink more and care less
And I can vow that sleeping is only
For the dead or at least
The heavily medicated and sadly
I can no longer tell the difference between
Floored PetalsHe drowned the cheap motel room
in smoke, back in ‘53,
when I was just a bud of seventeen
who had watched herself bloom
in the mirror in her mother’s closet.
I had seen the bloom and the bud
and had wished to be deflowered.
So I had leashed myself
onto the back of a bus
and roared into New York City
like the little dragonfly I am,
falling into deep dreams
on the laps of strange men.
A pale girl with a patched-up suitcase
off on an adventure in the city
with nothing but a few dollars
and a fear of the dark.
The hotels were musty
and the dollars digested,
but the lights lowered
as the jazz flew upward
into a shower of sparks,
and I, a flower shaking off her petals
as she swung into his arms
and into his life.
A life of roads and roaring,
and sitting half-still in the smoke
as he mused long into the night
and down the drain, saying,
“Poetry is daydreaming on paper,”
wiping his grey lips on discarded poems, and
crashing between the waves of sheets.
A life of racing
Jack FrostOh, how lovely it is,
To peer out a window from the cozy warmth of your home
And see the whole outdoors kissed in crystalline brilliance!
As snow and ice decorate the earth
It's still amazing to think that,
With a single giant and chilling breath,
Jack Frost turns an everyday world into a sparkling,
the King and his moon.i.
this is an ode
to the King. We
watched him blow
away like an ocean
of black feathers,
and our Father muttered
that he was
forgiven, always, truly
forgiven. But we
all know that
nothing gold can
stay-- he had to
go. It was written.
that was when the
Queen cut her hair. Again,
we watched it fall to
her chamber floor
in heaps of strung
gold. But we already
knew that it would have
to go. We already
knew that she
would go, for it
was written, and it
was already forgiven.
the Prince grew up
with the memory of
black shoes and hair
littering the halls of
an empty palace. The
Queen was busy, always
busy, and then she was sick--
and then the Prince put on
his black robes for her, even
though he always remembered
her in shaded of red.
on his father's throne,
the boy-king realized that
this was the place
that swallowed up his love,
and it gave way to war.
You know what they
say-- "A heartbrok
Winter's SnowThe snowfall brings joy, fun to children, and allure to the world
Although, many dislike it
It's too bitter, makes them ill,
Or is a bother before they go out and take leave their comfy warm abodes
But it's soft powdery white scenery brings out so much hope to others
The twinkle and sparkle within it
The happiness it will always have and will bring
Snowmen and snow angels everywhere,
Snowballs in the sky,
Icicles on the edges of roofs, wires, and tree branches,
Intricate and fern-like designs dancing upon window panes
People see it as a winter wonderland
Especially when it first falls
The world never knows though
That I bring them this kind blessing, this satisfaction, this wonder
Yeah me, Jack Frost
The one who people say I nip at the nose and toes
Well I'm very grateful for those who do believe in me
And I will keep coming once a year for a few months and grant your wishes.
spun out so far, i can't be true to you.he's still the way i watch the stars
and how i run like no one's watching
he's what i dream of when i'm awake
but maybe i'm done waiting
maybe it's you
maybe it's me this time
and maybe that's enough
he still races through my veins
and no, my heart is not steady when i see him
but i was never one for patience
a year is too long to hold on
and he is conservative
and button downs
he is beautiful
but i am wild
i am dirty feet
and summer evenings
i am mud-caked nails
and cider throats
i am sun soaked
laced with drunken poetry
i am watercolour
he is oil based
he is canvas in london galleries
i am doodles on napkins in mediterranean restuarants
you are cheekbones and dark eyes
coffee stained fingers
smirks and accidental brushes
i don't intend to know anything more
he is confidence
i am uncertainty
i live in the wind and the forests
we both spend too much time in front of mirrors
but whilst he kisses them
i crack them
and all the while he is leather
reality vs. pretendi.
a wooden sword
and an eye-patch
i was a girl who
knew deep inside
had developed feelings
and they were all
selfishly for me.
you tricked me,
you kidnapped me,
all to tell you stories
in which good triumphs
over evil, not really;
was to walk the plank
as you planned to kill
him and feed him to
the ticking crocodile.
happy thoughts and
faerie dust would
allow me to fly,
but i only had the
first and i was doomed;
your wooden sword poked
my back, waiting for me
to take the leap
down (the stairs),
hearing the ticking
(of the oven)
go off - just in time.
surly, mother called us
down for dinner
and at the end of the night,
it was all truly
bedtime stories will
serve as my peter pan,
as my escape from reality.
NighttimeCool and quiet while the world around sleeps,
Trees quietly whisper, sweet nothings undone...
As creatures of day retire to their keeps
No one around save the occasional someone...
Street lamps shed light on places often traveled
But cast shadows on those tar'd, chipped, and graveled.
The docit tones of crickets sing
A melodious nocturne as birds
Tuck their heads beneath wing.
Dark hands choke the sky, hiding the moon.
I stare up and watch, hoping it will end soon.
I plead to be reunited with the moons pale embrace
To feel its comforting rays illuminating this dark space
Staring across dark water a feeling rises
Growing out of my mind, a brief thought of chrisis...
I jump, plunging into the dark abyss
The cold dark water wrapping its wet absess
'Round my entire form, no fighting will save
Me from my move to choose this watery grave.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More