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TrepidationI trod down this path once before
but now It seems I've been
hoping for this moment to come
and hoping it will end
You'll see that I'm not fixed in this
the mental tug-o-war
keeping my love at bay
when I'd love to love this more.
I cannot take this hand, my dear
though I know the way you feel
my heart would not allow me now
to take in this slack reel
The love I know that we both share
is not the best, I see
but how am I supposed to know
that you're so right for me?
I can't decide if writing this
is something that's not right
or my fleeing mind is
the real reason we're not tight
You've got so much to offer
I see it in your eyes
I cannot help but look away
each time you gaze in mine
I think each time that I have myself down
something like this comes to be
and I can't help but be swept up
in new love's tranquility
a sliver of the galaxyto the star girl on the edge of my tongue:
your hair dye is fading; you are a patch work
quilt comprised of sleepless nights and
the world around you romanticizes
the sadness that fills you like a broken well,
but you know they’re wrong --
having a darkness that threatens
to overwhelm you every single moment
isn’t glamorous at all.
you’ve started to trace your skin
with a knife again, itching to press
a little harder, to draw on your body
the only way you know how.
but you won’t.
because that will mean
that you’re just as far gone
as they think you are.
and there’s still a sliver inside of you
that doesn’t want to let go.
--the girl on the other side of your mirror
Borderlined Once Too OftenDear Doctor,
I am not a pile of bones,
worn grey and yellowed
with the stains of this disease--
is a better plan than
an uncertaintity of pills;
(I won't even begin
to berate you for judging-
you'll get yours one day
when perhaps you'll learn
a label is a tool
instead of a weapon);
was never meant to mean
Sincerely, your patient
For Love of the StarsMoon Mother sighs, somber,
beneath a laughing Sun--
his world is ending,
hers has only begun.
to the girl teaching herself to flyShe is trapped by a moonlit mind,
come silent in the night.
Surrounded by clouds, she is blind
to barren worlds; their light.
Searching for a sign, she survives,
although she knows she cannot thrive.
Searching for a sign.
Searching for a sign.
Anything to remain alive.
Her voice calls out, though no one hears,
screaming for redemption.
A shadow comes to kindle fear,
adding to the tension.
Someone please help me, she shouts, cries,
though on her cheeks, her tears, they dry.
Someone please help me.
Someone please help me.
But her screams turn to desperate sighs.
Weeks pass, and she remains divine,
still searching for escape.
Vines corkscrew themselves on her spine,
leaves curling up her shape.
Borrowing wisdom from her brow,
she learns to
The Tangled Webs We Weave...
"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
when first we practice to deceive..."
Bob never really liked his job,
a clerk, in a room full of clerks.
Many a time he'd call off sick,
his unwitting boss- a jerk!
The sun was up, the air was fresh,
those eighteen links were calling.
Bob called in sick (a fevered chill),
his bold-faced lie - appalling!
But as it was his boss had plans,
clients that needed wooing.
So they hit the links at eight-o-five,
"Is that Bob? Who's he fooling?!"
Sad to say, Bob lost his job (sigh),
still unemployed, though he tries.
If only he had told the truth...
he wouldn't have been ensnared by his web of lies!
2. The Affair
It seemed to Joe she worked too much,
overtime almost every night.
He missed their quiet times at home,
he wondered, did she see his plight?
His best friend Ed had tipped him off,
A Well Meaning LieSomeday I will lie
To everyone alive,
And they will never see
That the liar was always me,
Because my words of sin
Will only bring a grin,
To their faces
Which were always so very grim.
I guess I'll be ready
When the wolf comes slow and steady,
But I will not cry out with fears so heavy,
Because this is what a liar gets in the end of the story.
So even if I made you smile,
Just for a little while,
Try to hold onto it when you find out the truth,
That there's no joy in youth,
When it's all you can look back upon
While you lie forgotten and long gone.
You'll always wish to change,
Maybe then things won't be the same,
But isn't it strange,
That you would think that way?
I guess the good memories did nothing for your soul,
Just cause you all this pain while you're growing old.
You pretend it never happened
While you're looking at it,
And you complain that you want that feeling once again,
You want to feel that grin,
But you forgot about the lie
Told by none but I.
So when you're screaming
Life Of A ConscienceRain slides down the window pane
As I slowly go insane
Falling with tears, down my face
Slowly making an empty space
Fall out the window, float up high
Deeper and deeper into the sky
Dance in sunshine, bathe in clouds
Away from people and looming clouds
Fall into a lake, see into the water
Cut nets and save, fish from slaughter
Spiral up and down, with the waves
Follow the paths that have been paved
Follow the turning twisting bends
Never giving up until the end
Jump over barriers, crawl round mistakes
Sleep and take a decent break
People laugh and people frown
Taking turns to wear the crown
When it’s hard, together we try
We don’t want to say goodbye
We stand together, you’re not alone
The same down to our very bone
We light the day, comfort the night
And together we will make things right
Every little bitNo one noticed the empty chair
They were all busy
Telling each other what had happened over the weekend
People didn’t really notice the chair anyways
Even when it was full
But today is different
The teacher walks in
With a strange look on her face
And she tells them
The girl that filled that chair, is dead
It happened Saturday night
She was driving home
She fell asleep at the wheel
The semi didn’t even get a chance
They pronounced her dead at the scene
The shock comes first
She was such a quiet girl
Always at the back, out of the way, you know?
But not today
The chair is staring at them, with unseen eyes
And that’s when people remember
How polite she was
The small smile she wore
The soft voice
The tired eyes
The boy in front of her,
She used to let him borrow her pencils
Because no one else would
He didn’t even say thank you
Or always give them back
She would help clean out the locker of the girl beside her
Without being asked
Even with the moldy lunches at the
LivesThe world she never said was fair
comes back to prove my point
to everyone who comes around:
the world is out of joint
It's nothing I can take away;
take me away from it
the ever-burning, flaming spire
stuck in a pile of shit
Well do I know now indeed
the strife all of us face
but as The Animals said
"We gotta get of this place"
Just to be a cog again
in steamy, oily works
would do nothing to support
development of quirks
Won't your life be shared with me
as I have often dreamt?
I cannot rightly say the things
my heart screams, though they tempt
What gives us rights
to steal these lives
we prime their pumps and then
we leave them all to dry
Lives we mould to fit our bill
are naught but empty shells
and as they shatter on the ground
they now await fresh hells
The hell I see is just a pond,
the city reflects within
of stark gray scape above
I see no life, just tin.
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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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