

cutting throughlike pinchers the blades of mental pinches skin usually instruments of fat determining self worth but tonight an old friend unjudging and sterile it winks at youcutting through
you squeeze hard now needles of pain familiar waves but blessedly less painful and finally mental pierces skin pricks through the throbbing artery red spills through surrounds red surround
numbingly you stare in wonder
at the ease and oh how freely,
how joyously it flows


The jacket in my bedHe left it in my car this jacket creamy white and navy so ordinary and yet... so sweetly blessed withThe jacket in my bed
his musky aroma, with every rhythmic breath I inhale,
awakes in me desire memories romance
I cradle it close to me in sleep delighting in its
sensuality the comfort of soft cotton against satin skin I imprint my scent upon it becoming as one and
dreamt


The holeshe digs her own hole.The hole
victim of her own doings.
do not pity her.
she is stupid and
worthless
the hole does not hide her,
does not protect her.
it is not deep enough.
only exposes all the
lies
and separates her
so alone
so weak
so...
Deserved..
she cries
its salty flood
will drown her,
she thinks,
save her from herself
the guilt and
disappointment,
the stench of failure. &n


JigsawScattered jumbled all mixed upJigsaw
the tiny remnants that make up the big picture A work of art? a photograph? or just me?
Searching for those pieces that click All the right moves, leading to the right destination
The place where everything is right Every part of me fits in Into society, into family friends  


En PassantAlone Not as before, but Not in touch Not in contact IsolatedEn Passant
A lone pawn Watching as unseen hands Shift the pieces around Away
Still I wait For my turn To advance, to be sacrificed
Maybe my sacrifice will save the game Maybe my advancing will force a mate Maybe I will even reach the end and become something Something else
And while I may be something to these hands I am just a pawn Alone and cold Waiting for my turn to move.


Fellowship of the Spoon"Now put it into that nice warm cup of coffee you have there... wait... see look! Can't you see the writing emerging?" Frogo looked at the old geezer with a concerned look. "So this is supposed to mean something to me?" "It's actually part of a much longer poem. The full poem goes like this... Three Lattes in a posh cafe on some fancy street Seven cups of Decaffe for those worried for their health Nine strong black coffes for the deadlines to meet And a big black Irish something for a man who dreams of wealth But in the land of Ki'Fellowship of the Spoon

--
"whimsically and wistfully watching"
I choose to moo too
--
"whimsically and wistfully watching"
--
"whimsically and wistfully watching"
--
*aimz*
--
"whimsically and wistfully watching"
--
*aimz*
Hehehe, u trying to stalk me
:muahaha:
--
"whimsically and wistfully watching"
hey, when are u putting some more stuff up....
--
"whimsically and wistfully watching"
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Is a snail a bug?
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