Posts tagged poetry

We twist and turn

Breaking backs and promises

Trying to unravel

Our sordid little love

Story in parts

Broken apart li-

-ke counter

CULTURE poetry.

We are a darkened corner

Of a dive bar,

A storied history

Lost to burned pages

Scars with nothing to say

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We are the broken memories

Of shattered dreams, simply shards

Of glass worked in with the long grass

That surrounds our ramshackle apartment.

We are bloody, twisted wounds

That we refuse to acknowledge.

We are broken, but alive

And that’s okay.

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We burn with slow flame

A twisted torture

That we enjoy

A memory locked in

Rusted out boxes,

Packed with glass shards

Accented with blood and tears

A fight not worth replaying.

We burn our past, slow and ever long

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Here we are

With words twisted

As broken branches.

Every story we whisper

Is nothing more than a

Missed vein in a vain attempt

To drug our bloodstreams.

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There’s still a me

That loves you and I

Can’t keep it from bubbling

Up and taking control.

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Dredge up the pain

That rests deep seated

In the cavity of my chest

And let it flow through

Veins that ache with absence.

Every time I see you,

I fall in love again.

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We are separated breaths

Simple and elegant

Plain as sunlight peeking

Through the blue.

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Every frigid step

Takes hold on toes

And spreads to the heart

A breath of nothingness

Spewed out into the void

A beck with no call

Whispers of sweet love

Into closed ears

And I can’t remember the last time I was shown love.

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Our story has been sung
With each ring of the bell
And we slowly toll away
On each and every promise
We made and broke
Restiched and repurposed

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Moving Forward

As I move from this house that I have been living in for ten months, it seems very apropos that Halloween decorations still adorn various places throughout this place. There are many ghosts that have attached themselves to 1307, and they wish to finally have peace. So it has thus been left to me, the last caretaker of the Fortress of Friendship, to finally bury the bodies, the memories, the hope that has attached itself to this place. And so, I went over each corner of these walls and meditated upon the meaning they will come to garner over the next few years.

These walls held me in the midst of a mental breakdown/psychotic break the night I found out my brother committed suicide. These walls saw me foster some of the best, and worst, relationships I have had. These walls heralded in the beginning of a whole new chapter in my life. These walls have seen a huge amount of change.

Even though these walls have been fairly nice to me, but even the sweetest things eventually turn sour. New chapter, new trail, new story.

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We take the steps

That lead us into oblivion

A certain kind of happiness.

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We are empty breaths

Contained in unsterilized bottles

And so we waste time waiting

For the wear and tear of time

Or breaks in the bottle,

Allowing for out breath to escape

Through small things that relieve the

Pressure of our lives.

Responsibility does not come from age.
It comes through experience
And so he we are,
I the youngest and yet
More grown than most.

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The American Dream

Is to fuck sun-kissed starlets

That’s why it’s Cali-Fornication

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