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Mr ScratchyRainbow hues brushed aside
Dark thoughts furtively enticing
Exalt;'Enbrace me!'Damp sheets
Veil conscious thought,dappled vigin light
Recessed shadows running tandem
Contradict the here and now.
Waking dreams leach my will
Dumped almost lifeless on the floor,pillows
Struggling weakly to my knees
Tender,gravel peppered palms
Enrage.Anger swells my tongue as
Carrion creatures jostle
Screech and peck in mounting
Frenzy.Bruised and bloodied
Accepting of my fate
Dull ringing echoes,skull
Bludgeoned from inside:
Intensly bright,white paper
Blankly i paint myself a
Mask and call him
Mr. Scratchy.His long arms
Flailing awkwardly,knots in string
Propel the ungainly-
Unbalanced as i am by you,
Buried somewhere inside me
Toying with my metal plated heart,i
Struggle,shove you hard
'Back in your box!'
Naughty Twinkle Toes.
Valiantly,down the years
Attrition was your sword,random
Victories grudgingly acknowleged
MaskShe wears a mask like it’s nothing.
Sometimes I forget it was made by demons.
I forget there’s a person living behind it.
Bridge ClosedIn the city of spires
thrust upward through the body of cloud
a piercing spike of adrenalin,
as the wind fondly ruffles her hair,
doesn't stop her from jumping up.
Reaching to be seen or saved,
by a city that blinks and misses her -
a temporary peak on the skyline.
Doesn't stop her from slamming
into the steel slashes
of the trainline below.
Even the most beautiful places
to those blinded by the inside-out-agony
of breathing against their will.
The city of spires remember her
as the cause for a bridge closed
on a Sunday.
Poem for My 2nd Semester English Teacher(Short v.)You stapled these words to the page.
Like a modern day tyrant,
You denied them the little humanity
You trapped their souls into
And threw them to the curb,
I understand that certain things
Should be left Inhuman
But we even give hurricanes names.
You taught us to separate the person from the art,
But if the art is about that person, you can’t pull them apart
FlamesThere are flames where
his head should be -
a poem left in the fireplace,
a dressing gown, a pipe,
forty pieces of silver.
This man promised you a winter
so warm and bountiful
spring would be ashamed.
He called you by name -
not the one that father knew
shoved under his bible.
But the one left behind
in the branches,
in the bucket of brambles,
and the columbines
buried at your feet.
Stones on the battlefield,
surrender in the grass.
What did his face
even look like behind the curtain,
counting those coins
and loosening the damp earth
from your shoes?
a love poemlike a dictionary ripe
with salted, sun spotted
words that emanate power
and splendor, i am unable
to describe you.
Raspy Hill"I don't quite feel like myself."
I haven't for a while now.
My mind seems displaced,
Like it's wandered too far away.
"I've been having strange dreams lately."
Images of strange creatures dance in my sleep.
I don't know them but I know they are malicious.
What do they want?
"But now you're here and I'll make you feel right at home."
My saviour, my protector.
You'll guard me from this evil.
"Welcome to Raspy Hill."
This is my hell.
And you'll join me.
I'll make sure of it.
"Enjoy your stay."
FriendshipFriendship is a tapestry
Woven through the years
With threads of joy and laughter
Happiness and tears
It's a work of art so priceless
It's shared by a precious few
Yet so easily created
By a loving friend like you
each one of us carries cemeteries beneath our skinyou are not the only one
to walk like there are
who looks both ways
before crossing the road
"knew a girl who";
you are alive
and you will experience
hurt, and you will
be so thankful
for every painful breath you take
because it's better than when
everything goes quiet
and all you feel is exhaustion.
there is more than just
one cold snap
before you enter
the winter of your life.
there are spells
of sadness and rage,
hate and denial
of all that you know
and all that you deserve;
and you are not the only one
to fight for everyday you are here,
alive and breathing
and striving to thrive
on such an unforgiving planet,
in such a world
that births emotional deserts
in its people;
you are not the only one
what love is not.it was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain,
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth,
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
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