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Scarecrow Green W. Body ImageSCARECROW
the trees are still green.
ive got a boy in each ear screaming in a strained falsetto, "find god, then fuck, rub war paint over your collar and choke those dreams of adolescent fancy!"
maybe not in that order.
i feel that those might be reasonable demands.
if not, ill stay a virgin forever and stop posting my barely lucid projections on cross walk buttons so the world can join me in confusion.
ive decided to marry myself to this moment, a rubber band ring on my finger and everything.
i cant tell if theyre asking for a fire or a union.
all i can hear is sex and murder, a whisper of masturbation.
the feral cry signifies a busted climax so maybe these boys are in love and the songs merely rut against each other.
its a valid enough theory.
a part of me hopes that they become beautiful monsters when the lights go out.
for them my heart goes.
today ive decided not to believe in love.
its a silly little thing, not suitable for children my age
"just jealous 'cause we're young and in love."
im jotting this down overlooking stairs to the concrete people playing evergreen games until the grass hits and feet sink against the movement.
my fear is the position to topple into bodily harm, she told me because my statements were laced, hardly contrary to the truth. and my knees are buckling, body sways forward and panic spray paints my senses 'til they're all bright yellow. i fall backwards on my ass, knees pressed tight to my chest so i can breathe normal again.
luckily no ones noticed that its happened for the third time tonight.
it might be a bit cliche to proclaim myself toeing the edges of our small existence 63 percent of the time.
eyes closed and learning how to meditate, recite the best poem ever written to the better half of my memory that sits in the dark until special moments when i wish to remember how to make decisions based on my mistakes.
this is different.
im listening to someone else's favorite song, strike to my ski
Sunglassesi look down and my hands are clasped, the light washing over them in broken stretches, intervals like broken clockwork. fingers interlocked atop the plaid fabric draped down and around my hips.
for the past hour or so ive been writing in my head.
about boys and girls.
those who i have, haven't, should've and desperately want to kiss. im 16, so honestly, theres nothing else for me to write about.
i wanted to start this with a sentence in my mental draft that would state, more or less, 'i tell him i love him but im not sure by what definition i hold it, perhaps whichever he feels it to be.'
something like that.
its about a boy who ive kissed despite knowing just how much i should not have. because my decision making skills are just about as flawed as my parents' are.
i guess i wouldve gotten all poetic about it too. about the songs hes sang to me and how hes just a stepping stone that i paused at, knowing it was merely 'til i truly get what i want (sniff, i say, 'what i had'), but no mat
Blackbirdthe sound of breathing over labored guitar chords.
he says 'rooftop', i think E minor, maybe binary code.
its just that simple.
with an arpeggio inhale and the positioning of awkward fingertips.
now hes humming something i cant discern and the song is supposed to be about lonliness, he says, a thin mouth tilted up in the corner.
'lovely melancholy' i say to myself.
but i hear moonlight and silver glinting off earlobes, hollowed in the dark.
dont believe theyre lonely, more but reaching out from the edges.
scribbles in the corner of papers with outstretched arms, to use figurative language.
a tendency to ask what i am writing, always thinking it be about himself (8th grade memories floating like notebook paper, i remember, small smile and bright eyes.)
right now the sound is repetition, shifting soft and to a feeling--green grass like comforters and arena seating.
and i can hear what this is asking for, a mirror imaged and a sideways glance through crowds.
to break his concentration, th
Counter Topi need to make that night seem more poetic when i write it down.
inject some sorry romanticism into those few moments.
felt like i had no face and even with the lilt of eyebrows, creases in the corners of my forced smile, the expression wouldnt have mattered anyway.
they dont explain it to you in those middle school classes.
the overwhelming sense of power found in sometimes hazel eyes, bright in dimly-lit rooms.
yet crippled in knowing how these things tend to mean nothing.
how my knees give out and quiver.
how in the minutes before, my lips mirrored the action, trying not to weep for the need of piteous decisions.
and voices are obsolete.
but breathing means everything.
i might actually call that my own, unless imagination runs wild and my skin goes blank for an open canvas---close your eyes and see anyone else you want to hold.
theres nothing at all beautiful to see when i let myself be picked apart for the sake of wanting someone i cant have, even when hes looping his perfect finge
Criss-Cross Designthe light has then adjusted
some twenty times since
weve been staring
with hair caught behind cold ears
and the irises expanding
for there is no way
to go blind in these rooms
with white-washed vision
blotting out dark figures
as they might rise slowly
in some distance
but you might switch these lines
to different angles
looking out windows
see the dull drone
of brown eyes
against brick walls
im writing your movement
as i stare at this pen
conjuring some demon
kill you dead
with the unrelenting desire
of this swirling madness
out the tip and over the page
so i could draw the distance
of just where you migh
be looking and write
those lines back to my eyes
and my mouth
because they are both open, staring
as you look anywhere but for me
Adenei've got a safety pin fastened through a collar and a name i dont know fit under the swollen rasp of my dry tongue.
the name like peril, little girls in sunday dresses, celestial in the songs they sing.
as if i knew that definition.
maybe stringing descriptions along branches and stuck with metal points, rusting red through the sides.
spelling out letters with stick tips in teh dirt and memorizing lines on her knees, with her hands upon the ground.
with hair threaded through like loops about her fingertips, passed through pink tinged lips and breathin in her air through filters, left there speechless.
reflecting the sun and leaving their sketches on tree trunks.
the countours gold, eyes closed and blind to the moment.
spit at her feet and found mud squished through toes, causing dissension among the ranks.
and she speaks quietly to the pins in her shoulders that whatever youre seeing, its not happening.
i say Adene, you draw a picture and the lines overlap.
running like water.
We Can See Thisive found out that these lives are like movies and the voices set are scripted pieces of beauty.
my gaze, taciturn, green grass in graveyards.
lifting his chin with the tips of my fingers.
as if holding the pose, fighting breath under water.
and walking away, found an exit through hanging branches of willows wilting in the heat of some lost summer.
the glances then fashioned are disguised 'round my fingers in trying to remember why i could not look away as he tread over flowers, skipping over their stories held in the words chipped into cold stone.
unless laying on the park bench and closing my eyes, finding letters encrypted in the stones thrown at my feet.
if set to the chorus of the soundtracks so celluloid, you could find our names up in the lights of grocery store tabloids.
because we are stars.
pretending out way through the moment of fake love, shielding faces from sunlight in late afternoons.
Hair Clip in Those Bedroomsdarling
i can hear the quirk in your voice
so i know its not okay
and im not gonna tell you i approve
but hes gone on an ego trip
and it extends beyond the hours of jet lag
that pulls you into his arms
from whence he might throw you upon the ground
to hear his drunken hero stories
the fatigue breathes alcohol into his thoughts
and theres that girl that we know
the one that i love more than the world
who whispers two names into everyones ear
and plays off the repercussions as her innocence
so lets all nod and call this okay
i remember the summer
when we smiled
as they played out the night in the comfort of bedrooms
it was okay wasnt it
the dialogue of deception
and hes lining your ears with it
its not the soar of piano concertos
and sonnets spoken with the bow of stringed instruments
if he looks you in the eyes with sunflowers in your vision
know to stare away
because is it not preconceived in the hours that he travels back in time
back to you
to whisper that hes not sure of what you ar
Ophelia unrelentingI keep all the
underneath my tongue :
they're the ones
that say you
love me -
- love me not
in this madness,
in this suspended
state of grace :
I will soldier on,
I will not allow
this willow branch
the pilot's daughterI would swallow
if poetry alone
could fly me to you.
flight risk or no,
I wish you
clear skies ahead ;
I will wait for you
Step Back Let's take a step back:
back to simpler times
where we had no cares
and just hoped it would last.
I love you more than anything
and I love you more
than anyone else
on this forsaken television screen
displaying the dream of life
could love anything.
has a greater love
than mine for you.
Forget all the philosophical quotes
I need to stop
and get back
to the point of this notebook:
throw poetic license out the window,
I fucking love you,
I have nothing
and with you
I have everything;
I could ever ask for,
Anticipated Disaster Waiting
for something all hidden.
If the secret get out,
it's over for us.
You want everything
and I think I have it all.
You think I'm perfect,
when I'm lacking
all that you seek.
are everything I need
just by being with me.
Asking and anticipating
all that leads to our demise
I feel bad,
for not giving the same way;
but right now
I feel dreadful,
Stomach Tied In Knots2:47 A.M.
Texting you late night
Listening to songs that make me think of you
Thinking of me pecking kisses on your pretty pink lips
It keeps my stomach tied in knots.
1:32-1:34 AMIts late
I know I should sleep
But all I want to do
Is stay and talk with you
Even as the stars twinkle and shine
And as the sun begins to rear it's ugly face
Even if I had work tomorrow
I'd stay up all night to speak to you
It'll bring me closer to you
Since you aren't here
With me, falling asleep
Catching yourself with little head jerks
Being here to hold close
It leaves a void
That can't wait to be fulfilled
By being with you again
Fireflies.Take my hand,
twirl me around,
can you glimpse the fireflies
as we dance?
A silent audience,
blinking and providing our light,
the warm air surrounding us
is filled with those lanterns.
Can you hear the music?
Can you feel the beat?
We're singing even if we can't speak,
laughing even if we can barely breathe.
Dancing, listening, singing, laughing
all across the grass as we glide
(in what hopefully passes as graceful),
yet paying no mind whoever may judge
for there's only us tonight.
Under the stars above,
through the yellow stars around,
I think dancing with you
would be more like having lightning bugs inside me,
replacing the butterflies for one evening.
Laugh into me,
for maybe it's not my veins filled with light
but your eyes.
Reflecting the stars that don't blink quite like
Not your HeartLying in my bed, in the silence of the night,
my head is overwhelmed with one, single, giant
thought right in this lone moment. You, my dear,
you are the thought that is swimming laps
through my head.
How do I even begin to wonder if you do love
me; it feels like your giving me so many mix
signals that I am beginning to question if my
eyes are playing little tricks on me. Or are
you just unsure if you should take the leap.
You don't want to feel the pain that could
over rule every emotion that you have no
desire to feel in the first place. If
that's so, then I could never want to break
a heart like yours, it has way to much
wonderment for me to want to break when
there is so much more for me to explore.
The uniqueness that your soul has makes it
so hard, for me to resist not wanting to go
look into your eyes to see your whole world
lit up in a matter of seconds; maybe it's
just the reflection of me every time that I
look at you, how you can make me smile
effortlessly because of
Epic Rap Battles of MMA- Simon VS NoahI dislike you blue haired man, painted blue hair and fake tan,
I'm a legend I am top notch, come 'ny closer, I'll kick you in the crotch!
Your face is so damn ugly, I cannot even cope,
I cannot understand how Daryl can see hope,
U just gonna stand there and fiddle with yo thing?
Think yo better rapper than me?! Well, I'm the BLACK king!
Oh shut up you little fuck!
You cannot even suck a decent cock!
Actually, that's the only thing you do,
You're a fairy. You're gay. U a fuckin homo!
That's why you hang with Emil,
None of you has any appeal.
I know a bitch who shags anyone to sleep,
That's right, Simon Lullaby indeed!
Get lost and suck my balls,
Think u can probe me when night falls?!
I don't think so you blue, pathetic shit,
I don't like your attitude, no, not one fuckin bit!
My magic is much better than yours,
At least I don't grow rainbow pubes,
You might be the black king but your brain is darker
Yo a Lil faggot, my penis has more power,
You suck dick, my rhymes are neat,
Go to hell
Treat Her Kindlystorybook
bright blue eyes
and stuttered glances
long blonde hair
laying on the floor
they know where the water ends
press of lips
everyones supposed to know
when the door walks in
the clock dripping
its a painting on the wall
in a circle
word of mouth
nothing makes more sense
than the things that people hide
one day well live together
hes says life will be better
and thats the way love goes
for one or two
three or four
and they give
because thats what lovers do
outstretch a hand
with the world
theyll be vindicated
who exactly knows what from
everything from everyone
but theyre still singing spinning dying
her blue eyes are crying
and the world stops to a still
lies make more sense
finger there to a cheek
and the stars are falling
with a word
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