it’s not that the morning afterlaying there in your armsisn’t something just extraordinary but the call came lateat half past threeand the conversation was confusedyet the request was clearly making it seemlike I was being used And I’m not that easyI’m not that slowI’m not the type to fall over backwardsbut here I go the …
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Category:Poem
a typical male
some dim-witted attempt at being sly pretending not to have any feelings never let them see you cry unless of course that helps you score it’s all about the image it’s all about the life style it’s all about getting the women you’re just a simple man nothing more trying hard not to get attached …
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More to Life
I don’t feel much like laughterMore like wet cement.Like when people step on meThey’re leaving permanent prints. Some say you must do somethingTo somehow feel truly real.Yet sitting here, doing nothingIs much more comfortable than all that.Must be the mellowness, the sweetnessLike the bliss of emptiness.Without the fear of hurting, at leastNot more than I …
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Gifts
There were small things, unnoticed by everyone but me, that he did. A secret communication between us and us alone.He hid his feelings behind stupidity even though he had intelligenceenough to deceive the casual observer.Ours was a mysterious bond. He seemed cruel and cold and I seemed too forgiving and sweet.Everyone thought me a saint, …
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Memories
it’s sweetsometimeslike a tiny kisslittle soft lipsrested on the fleshlaid down on the tissuewrapped up in a boxpresented to the receiverand with it he runshe scoresthe crowd is jumpythe home team lostghosts from the memorywhisper in my mindendless trappingssour lemon drops drip off my tonguethe lemmings rushI go blind and deafand dumbthe pig flies through …
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About: digging
The greenest green sprouts out of dirty brown soil thickwith stones. The roots of towering trees wrapthemselves around the edges of earth. Digging in the garden. Digging deep into the unknown. Ladybuglands nearby to take in the view. Spiderscreep along fence pathways commuting to webbed homes.Their little tiny legs brush along the wood unheard. Big …
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Again
Endless circles around which I twist my tongueand the world goes down again.The world spins around again.The day seems to blast out of a rocket shell into no man’s landand there I go standing in the middle again.The ties that bind and cut into my flesh tear into the heart of it all.And the world …
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