I need some help. YOUR help.
Okay, so I want to enter some poetry into this literary magazine at Purdue. I have over 40 poems, and got it down to like 15. I need to know which poems you like best, so I can better determine which poems I should put into the contest. Thanks!
If it makes it easier, here's a word document with my poems
Sizzlin’ Chix and Cranberry Salad
Here’s to the boiling oil
bubbling in the black pan,
getting prepared to do its job.
Here’s to the frozen chicken-
white-peach and cold. It
simmers in the hot oil, slowly
turning a rich light tan color.
Here’s to that greasy chicken
smell radiating from the
black pan with its popping oil.
Here’s to the almond slices that
come next. Their intricate bodies
falling over the chicken. One side,
smooth; like the paint on a brand
new car. The other shows its
fingerprints. The lovely little
loopy lines identifying the
small, sweet nut. Here’s to
the small spoon used to scoop
them, and to the sound of
crunching leaves it makes.
It reminds me of autumn, my
favorite season. Here’s to the
beautiful leaves of the fall.
Yellow, brown, and
of course, the red.
Here’s to the color red-
the same color as the dried
cranberries that fall over the
almonds and chicken. The
wrinkly skin that gives it
the appearance of a red
raisin. A craisin. A garnet
laying on the sandy-color
beaches of chicken and almonds.
Here’s to the rocks that
give their bodies to
the water that make up the
beaches and allow me to use
that simile. Here’s to walking
on a beach, scooping sand up,
and depositing it to a new, but
strange, location; just like the
future of the food-beach still
sizzling in the hot, black pan.
Here’s to the bigger spoon that
scoops up the small portion of
the tiny food-beach and places
it up top the canopy of the
leafy Romaine forest. Here’s to
the bare orange floor of the
shiny plate. Here’s to the
Balsamic Vinaigrette that,
like a brown smelly deluge,
pours over the food-beach and
salad-forest, drenching
everything in sight.
Here’s to the salad-
ready to leave its station,
all grown up and prepared.
Here’s to the small insignificants
that make life (for lunchtime or
dinner) so damn tasty.
The Maiden
With a small sigh
the sparkle left her
empty. Her beautiful
soul hid in her
quarantined mind
marked as incurable
on her peach temple.
Like a butterfly
floating through
the morning mist-
her hand raised to
her chin to support
her flower face-
wet with the
morning dew of
a solitary red rose.
The Earth glistened
as she walked among the
pollen flying like
faeries from their
small dandelion homes.
They danced around
her head until
the rain falls from
the silverfish clouds
lining the dark sky.
She hugs herself
as the rain kisses her
body. The wispy wind
wraps around her
cold embrace.
With a small sigh
the life escaped her
pale lips as she
fell into the opened
arms of mother earth.
The faeries danced
around her body,
reviving her long
lost hopeless heart.
Her eyes opened like
a flicker in the night.
She sat up and danced
with the moon and stars.
Flying twinkles
glowed on her peach skin.
The beautiful smell of
daisies overcame her
as she closed her eyes;
for the truth would
soon be discovered
in the field of
red, yellow, and purple
flowers singing the
dirge of death.
Joy of Lies
The wind cataracts down from the stars-
it flogs the somber clouds and foliage.
It lands in her long hair, forcing it back.
Circling thoroughly, the brown spins and
sparkles in the glow of the setting sun.
It kisses her face and hugs her head
as a mother cradling and shielding
her infant from the world’s sleaze.
Corruption that takes the structure of
a militant trying to annihilate the
humanity for the greater good. The
elitist of Earth. She’s in love
with her psychosis as she reeks
and rapes the inert with the
deceit forced upon her by her milieu-
Where the sun scarcely ever shined
through the shadows of espionage.
The treachery made the sweat exude
from her concealed shape. All that no one
could perceive was the brown curls and
the contusions likely to be attained
from the simplest of Earth’s delights.
What if Cause Never Had an Effect?
The stars used to murmur in
my ear. Upsetting beliefs
blazed before my heart. They
now bow down to try to solicit,
but I turned away in repugnance
before I ever gave it an opportunity.
The buildings weakly smile in
the piercing coldness of night.
Despite the sky holding back
its smile; everything silhouettes
across the shaman of the horizon.
It seems so magical, but
reality screams masquerade...
but that is what justly holds
every aspect of my trust.
No, not the haunting beauty of
the shadows, for those are
figments the dreams hope to
chronically perceive. You as one
and I as one more diverse. We
both knew what would befall
as red asperity seeped through.
To read that we were ascetic
would, in the end, cause…
The Last Trip
The night tiptoed around our misty
breath that foisted with the air
as we roamed the ancient parterre.
The shackles were thrown on it years
ago as conviction quarantined it from
past memories.
The fodder-like grass cushioned
our secrets as we gazed at the broken
sky. The soliloquy no one could hear
solemnized with the stars of the
fallacious familiarity. We took an
alias and an alibi
as the sun parted Heaven and Hell…
an alembic to comfort humanity.
One could call this just,
but not this time.
The natural holster of odium
disgusts even the greatest of
villains. Our hands dropped to our sides
as slowly as a fervent music note
decimates the life once lived.
Standing before us with a soft
but minatory smile,
he decried everything of the
fallacious familiarity of our journey.
One could call this just
with a daunting scream piercing through
the red, apple tree garden.
I stood as a dowager, but never a bride.
Decision? Not Really.
I honestly can’t quite comprehend
it myself as to why I am so fascinated
by them-
Maybe it’s the mystery. Oh yes,
there are shadows that encircle
around them- forming a glorious,
dark mist of allure. They’re the
dark alley, cringing as the sunlight
emerges, threatening to take hold.
I stand below the sun and watch.
Every time I wait, I see the subtle
movements that just intrigue me more…
Maybe it’s the true but different
beauty that resonates off of them.
It’s like watching the green grass grow
with a certain feeling of nostalgia
washing over our insignificant lives.
But they…? They are everything.
They are nothing. You can either be
too verbose or too unvoiced. But with me-
I just believe that I silently speak.
I suppose that when it comes to these
matters of utter magnetism, one could
claim that those being observed might
be both mysterious and beautiful. I
believe they do… like two different
melodies of the sky and earth.
Thinking With an Empty Brain
The blue dawn overcomes the
nightscape. The flames decompose
One. More. Time. If everyone
could write me a sentence, I
could trace it back to you. It’s
your identity. Let it annihilate you…
The bombs explode over the
quiescent city, but only the
wise understand the value of
One. Great. Show. Panic
and purity remain the same as
the alphabet retains the
different knowledges of great
thinkers and scientists.
Thinkers dream. Scientists develop.
But don’t worry, both are the
same. Like you and me. Unity.
One flag burns in the setting sunset
christening the pearl colored beaches
as its brother hangs against the
destruction of civilizations. Tell me
which is worse, but don’t respond to
me. You don’t know, and I don’t care.
I take to the shower to answer everything.
Each droplet gives an idea to complete
the process. Every radio commercial
feeds the twenty years of education
I’ve taken. I’m only 19. I’ll die when
new things are discovered. People
will laugh at our ideologies. So why
bother? Because history provides
not knowledge, but entertainment.
The nightscape screams at the
hollow dusk. An echo kidding
to their immorality. An echo
rendering and kissing their
departures, and after all
this time, it’s still morning.
Moonlight Walks
Moonlight walks on a frozen desert never
seemed to be so deadly in real life. The
cinematic features were beaten to a bloody
mess with the arrow through the heart.
The air lamented in the sky for days
as the newspapers flapped about- Never
once giving in to the truth over the distilled
atmosphere. The immaculate chorus
hollowed out their eyes to tear apart the
gracing sunlight. Darkness upon darkness
surrounded by a hopeless moon glaring
overhead. No scream could pierce
the night this time. It was all too much.
The flawless fell from the clouds,
becoming tainted with the hatred ensued
by those unwillingly scorned. When will
you think of me? Cease forever.
The Space on Top
As smirks of broken dreams
appeal to your heart, you
adorn your flaws with the
ignorance that no one could
quite understand. The millions
of the impious choked you from
inside – feeding from you until
you burst from the laughter of
time. The apex comes too early, but
it was much too premature for you.
Clocks distort reality into chaos,
but you- you were unrivaled until the
last
nauseating
thud
reverberated like a knife.
Sporadic
Sporadic breathing can become quite
formidable when darkness pierces
through your thin, white bones. Dust
is but a comfort for those drowning
in placidity. A beautiful sunset, the
orange, red, and yellow hues, scorns
and burns us as we no longer find
solace in the folds of the blanketed
sky. The twilight breathes out. The night brings
consolation, but without the effect of
organization, perception is a value below
reality. Vacuity is nothing new, though-
guaranteed. There is beauty in nothing but it's
absolutely and utterly devoid of anything.
Nothing left, but nothing. I could barely
see you within all the black. You would
never see me if my skin glowed like
a streetlight in the deep shadows.
Promise Yourself This, Dear
Like a resonating song, the stars quickly
fade to beckon the new morning. Pity
surrounded as the sun refused to rise,
leaving the gray sky ugly in its wake. The
autumn leaves fall more deeply today, making
the trees’ simple arms become claws.
There was never a use for sadness, but
there has always been a need for simplicity
as the world turns and sense can no longer
achieve its definition. The striking hues
still outline, but are lamented in the still, yet crisp,
air. Time creeps at so burdensome a pace
when yearning stretches through the happiness
to end at something a little lower than desolate.
There is complexity in simplicity, but there
are still more stars yielding to a new day. One
more time as the rays shatter through the
intricacy to deliver and derive just what
one would truly desire without any strings;
in an immaculately pure state; devoid of stains
this time on the once more beautiful day.
Famous
Bloody bandages can never attribute anything to vanity
you said I wear stars on my face and moonlights on my
dress. The night sky fills my hair, yet there is nothing
more ugly than that which filters my skin.
You could never utter the sentence. Never speak
such truth and wisdom beyond the calendar. Your eyes
always held ambiguous thoughts as they melted in the calm
air. Pearls did adorn your touch, but steeped within grew a mold
asphyxiated by rebellion. You know your rejection, but
still claim to hold an acceptance in society.
Hair strands frame your face- heart shaped. We knew that
they would never get passed the masquerade. Tears
dried in your hair as the societal outcry felt your suicide.
Who knew it would be for all the wrong reasons
Bloody bandages never did contribute to vanity
henceforth this darkened sky and myriad clouds
of gold. But dear-
you look horrible covered in diamonds and pills.
There’s No Need To…
Eyes glint cold. Eyes glint red.
No. No...
Perhaps.
The yellow light blinds
me. My eyes gray. Eyes glint gray.
A pool of water on my neck. Blood.
No. Not blood... No blood on
these hands. No unsightly glimpses.
My eyes aren't red. Not gray.
Brown. They're brown. No.
Hazel. The metal stool grows colder. My foot
slips from the bar.
Never. I fold my hands upon my
lap. Tell us something more, then.
There's nothing. Everything. No
Nothing. No dirt. Screams?
Perhaps. Eyes glint cold.
Just speak the truth.
That's all I ever do.
Everlast…ing
Asphyxiation will come swift
when words are such a bore.
When the rain clouds begin to shift
on this old beach shore-
the palm trees lose their life tonight
as song birds hide away-
for death provides a dismal light
in which the beam lights slay.
Grenadine kisses fill the air
as darkness looms beyond-
we watched with each other’s warm care
as the marks make their con.
The shadows fall in deep to spy
as whispers fill our breath-
not sensing the dread from the sky,
as the wind whispered death.
The comatose dirge swept in fast
to keep us far apart-
still we knew nothing of the past
but lines for the next part.
We spoke in a beautiful trance
but my throat had caved in-
and this time colors won’t enhance
what really should have been
there.
You are Perfect
You had to spend a lifetime of darkness
in order to find a split second of your red rosy cheeks
flustered under the hard labors of the heart. Your lips blistered
as the sky came crashing down. Your voice
was almost inaudible as it crooked out
the last passages that
you swore you’d never tell.
I stood in the cloud as the
snowflakes circled around. I looked everywhere,
but all I could ever see was you.
Your head hung low and
whispers escaped, but they were so faint
that they dissipated in the wind.
I watched you both crash through the city
with a mind to find a better pastime.
But the preface was always too much
for you.
I saw the slap the footprints imprinted.
I heard the words- too harsh for
someone like you.
I wish I could say that
I was always there, but truth be told,
the chains and shackles kept
me far away.
Not all clouds can count to nine.
It had been many years, but I still remember.
My eyes were downcast during
those years, yearning to
see the faint smile- the beautiful chandelier
formidably hanging for all to speculate and revere.
But your lights had long since burnt out. The dust hung
deep.
I realized that I wasn’t your ticket.
If you gathered all your
hopes and dreams
of pleasures and
burned them away,
you could become
yourself.
If it makes it easier, here's a word document with my poems
Sizzlin’ Chix and Cranberry Salad
Here’s to the boiling oil
bubbling in the black pan,
getting prepared to do its job.
Here’s to the frozen chicken-
white-peach and cold. It
simmers in the hot oil, slowly
turning a rich light tan color.
Here’s to that greasy chicken
smell radiating from the
black pan with its popping oil.
Here’s to the almond slices that
come next. Their intricate bodies
falling over the chicken. One side,
smooth; like the paint on a brand
new car. The other shows its
fingerprints. The lovely little
loopy lines identifying the
small, sweet nut. Here’s to
the small spoon used to scoop
them, and to the sound of
crunching leaves it makes.
It reminds me of autumn, my
favorite season. Here’s to the
beautiful leaves of the fall.
Yellow, brown, and
of course, the red.
Here’s to the color red-
the same color as the dried
cranberries that fall over the
almonds and chicken. The
wrinkly skin that gives it
the appearance of a red
raisin. A craisin. A garnet
laying on the sandy-color
beaches of chicken and almonds.
Here’s to the rocks that
give their bodies to
the water that make up the
beaches and allow me to use
that simile. Here’s to walking
on a beach, scooping sand up,
and depositing it to a new, but
strange, location; just like the
future of the food-beach still
sizzling in the hot, black pan.
Here’s to the bigger spoon that
scoops up the small portion of
the tiny food-beach and places
it up top the canopy of the
leafy Romaine forest. Here’s to
the bare orange floor of the
shiny plate. Here’s to the
Balsamic Vinaigrette that,
like a brown smelly deluge,
pours over the food-beach and
salad-forest, drenching
everything in sight.
Here’s to the salad-
ready to leave its station,
all grown up and prepared.
Here’s to the small insignificants
that make life (for lunchtime or
dinner) so damn tasty.
The Maiden
With a small sigh
the sparkle left her
empty. Her beautiful
soul hid in her
quarantined mind
marked as incurable
on her peach temple.
Like a butterfly
floating through
the morning mist-
her hand raised to
her chin to support
her flower face-
wet with the
morning dew of
a solitary red rose.
The Earth glistened
as she walked among the
pollen flying like
faeries from their
small dandelion homes.
They danced around
her head until
the rain falls from
the silverfish clouds
lining the dark sky.
She hugs herself
as the rain kisses her
body. The wispy wind
wraps around her
cold embrace.
With a small sigh
the life escaped her
pale lips as she
fell into the opened
arms of mother earth.
The faeries danced
around her body,
reviving her long
lost hopeless heart.
Her eyes opened like
a flicker in the night.
She sat up and danced
with the moon and stars.
Flying twinkles
glowed on her peach skin.
The beautiful smell of
daisies overcame her
as she closed her eyes;
for the truth would
soon be discovered
in the field of
red, yellow, and purple
flowers singing the
dirge of death.
Joy of Lies
The wind cataracts down from the stars-
it flogs the somber clouds and foliage.
It lands in her long hair, forcing it back.
Circling thoroughly, the brown spins and
sparkles in the glow of the setting sun.
It kisses her face and hugs her head
as a mother cradling and shielding
her infant from the world’s sleaze.
Corruption that takes the structure of
a militant trying to annihilate the
humanity for the greater good. The
elitist of Earth. She’s in love
with her psychosis as she reeks
and rapes the inert with the
deceit forced upon her by her milieu-
Where the sun scarcely ever shined
through the shadows of espionage.
The treachery made the sweat exude
from her concealed shape. All that no one
could perceive was the brown curls and
the contusions likely to be attained
from the simplest of Earth’s delights.
What if Cause Never Had an Effect?
The stars used to murmur in
my ear. Upsetting beliefs
blazed before my heart. They
now bow down to try to solicit,
but I turned away in repugnance
before I ever gave it an opportunity.
The buildings weakly smile in
the piercing coldness of night.
Despite the sky holding back
its smile; everything silhouettes
across the shaman of the horizon.
It seems so magical, but
reality screams masquerade...
but that is what justly holds
every aspect of my trust.
No, not the haunting beauty of
the shadows, for those are
figments the dreams hope to
chronically perceive. You as one
and I as one more diverse. We
both knew what would befall
as red asperity seeped through.
To read that we were ascetic
would, in the end, cause…
The Last Trip
The night tiptoed around our misty
breath that foisted with the air
as we roamed the ancient parterre.
The shackles were thrown on it years
ago as conviction quarantined it from
past memories.
The fodder-like grass cushioned
our secrets as we gazed at the broken
sky. The soliloquy no one could hear
solemnized with the stars of the
fallacious familiarity. We took an
alias and an alibi
as the sun parted Heaven and Hell…
an alembic to comfort humanity.
One could call this just,
but not this time.
The natural holster of odium
disgusts even the greatest of
villains. Our hands dropped to our sides
as slowly as a fervent music note
decimates the life once lived.
Standing before us with a soft
but minatory smile,
he decried everything of the
fallacious familiarity of our journey.
One could call this just
with a daunting scream piercing through
the red, apple tree garden.
I stood as a dowager, but never a bride.
Decision? Not Really.
I honestly can’t quite comprehend
it myself as to why I am so fascinated
by them-
Maybe it’s the mystery. Oh yes,
there are shadows that encircle
around them- forming a glorious,
dark mist of allure. They’re the
dark alley, cringing as the sunlight
emerges, threatening to take hold.
I stand below the sun and watch.
Every time I wait, I see the subtle
movements that just intrigue me more…
Maybe it’s the true but different
beauty that resonates off of them.
It’s like watching the green grass grow
with a certain feeling of nostalgia
washing over our insignificant lives.
But they…? They are everything.
They are nothing. You can either be
too verbose or too unvoiced. But with me-
I just believe that I silently speak.
I suppose that when it comes to these
matters of utter magnetism, one could
claim that those being observed might
be both mysterious and beautiful. I
believe they do… like two different
melodies of the sky and earth.
Thinking With an Empty Brain
The blue dawn overcomes the
nightscape. The flames decompose
One. More. Time. If everyone
could write me a sentence, I
could trace it back to you. It’s
your identity. Let it annihilate you…
The bombs explode over the
quiescent city, but only the
wise understand the value of
One. Great. Show. Panic
and purity remain the same as
the alphabet retains the
different knowledges of great
thinkers and scientists.
Thinkers dream. Scientists develop.
But don’t worry, both are the
same. Like you and me. Unity.
One flag burns in the setting sunset
christening the pearl colored beaches
as its brother hangs against the
destruction of civilizations. Tell me
which is worse, but don’t respond to
me. You don’t know, and I don’t care.
I take to the shower to answer everything.
Each droplet gives an idea to complete
the process. Every radio commercial
feeds the twenty years of education
I’ve taken. I’m only 19. I’ll die when
new things are discovered. People
will laugh at our ideologies. So why
bother? Because history provides
not knowledge, but entertainment.
The nightscape screams at the
hollow dusk. An echo kidding
to their immorality. An echo
rendering and kissing their
departures, and after all
this time, it’s still morning.
Moonlight Walks
Moonlight walks on a frozen desert never
seemed to be so deadly in real life. The
cinematic features were beaten to a bloody
mess with the arrow through the heart.
The air lamented in the sky for days
as the newspapers flapped about- Never
once giving in to the truth over the distilled
atmosphere. The immaculate chorus
hollowed out their eyes to tear apart the
gracing sunlight. Darkness upon darkness
surrounded by a hopeless moon glaring
overhead. No scream could pierce
the night this time. It was all too much.
The flawless fell from the clouds,
becoming tainted with the hatred ensued
by those unwillingly scorned. When will
you think of me? Cease forever.
The Space on Top
As smirks of broken dreams
appeal to your heart, you
adorn your flaws with the
ignorance that no one could
quite understand. The millions
of the impious choked you from
inside – feeding from you until
you burst from the laughter of
time. The apex comes too early, but
it was much too premature for you.
Clocks distort reality into chaos,
but you- you were unrivaled until the
last
nauseating
thud
reverberated like a knife.
Sporadic
Sporadic breathing can become quite
formidable when darkness pierces
through your thin, white bones. Dust
is but a comfort for those drowning
in placidity. A beautiful sunset, the
orange, red, and yellow hues, scorns
and burns us as we no longer find
solace in the folds of the blanketed
sky. The twilight breathes out. The night brings
consolation, but without the effect of
organization, perception is a value below
reality. Vacuity is nothing new, though-
guaranteed. There is beauty in nothing but it's
absolutely and utterly devoid of anything.
Nothing left, but nothing. I could barely
see you within all the black. You would
never see me if my skin glowed like
a streetlight in the deep shadows.
Promise Yourself This, Dear
Like a resonating song, the stars quickly
fade to beckon the new morning. Pity
surrounded as the sun refused to rise,
leaving the gray sky ugly in its wake. The
autumn leaves fall more deeply today, making
the trees’ simple arms become claws.
There was never a use for sadness, but
there has always been a need for simplicity
as the world turns and sense can no longer
achieve its definition. The striking hues
still outline, but are lamented in the still, yet crisp,
air. Time creeps at so burdensome a pace
when yearning stretches through the happiness
to end at something a little lower than desolate.
There is complexity in simplicity, but there
are still more stars yielding to a new day. One
more time as the rays shatter through the
intricacy to deliver and derive just what
one would truly desire without any strings;
in an immaculately pure state; devoid of stains
this time on the once more beautiful day.
Famous
Bloody bandages can never attribute anything to vanity
you said I wear stars on my face and moonlights on my
dress. The night sky fills my hair, yet there is nothing
more ugly than that which filters my skin.
You could never utter the sentence. Never speak
such truth and wisdom beyond the calendar. Your eyes
always held ambiguous thoughts as they melted in the calm
air. Pearls did adorn your touch, but steeped within grew a mold
asphyxiated by rebellion. You know your rejection, but
still claim to hold an acceptance in society.
Hair strands frame your face- heart shaped. We knew that
they would never get passed the masquerade. Tears
dried in your hair as the societal outcry felt your suicide.
Who knew it would be for all the wrong reasons
Bloody bandages never did contribute to vanity
henceforth this darkened sky and myriad clouds
of gold. But dear-
you look horrible covered in diamonds and pills.
There’s No Need To…
Eyes glint cold. Eyes glint red.
No. No...
Perhaps.
The yellow light blinds
me. My eyes gray. Eyes glint gray.
A pool of water on my neck. Blood.
No. Not blood... No blood on
these hands. No unsightly glimpses.
My eyes aren't red. Not gray.
Brown. They're brown. No.
Hazel. The metal stool grows colder. My foot
slips from the bar.
Never. I fold my hands upon my
lap. Tell us something more, then.
There's nothing. Everything. No
Nothing. No dirt. Screams?
Perhaps. Eyes glint cold.
Just speak the truth.
That's all I ever do.
Everlast…ing
Asphyxiation will come swift
when words are such a bore.
When the rain clouds begin to shift
on this old beach shore-
the palm trees lose their life tonight
as song birds hide away-
for death provides a dismal light
in which the beam lights slay.
Grenadine kisses fill the air
as darkness looms beyond-
we watched with each other’s warm care
as the marks make their con.
The shadows fall in deep to spy
as whispers fill our breath-
not sensing the dread from the sky,
as the wind whispered death.
The comatose dirge swept in fast
to keep us far apart-
still we knew nothing of the past
but lines for the next part.
We spoke in a beautiful trance
but my throat had caved in-
and this time colors won’t enhance
what really should have been
there.
You are Perfect
You had to spend a lifetime of darkness
in order to find a split second of your red rosy cheeks
flustered under the hard labors of the heart. Your lips blistered
as the sky came crashing down. Your voice
was almost inaudible as it crooked out
the last passages that
you swore you’d never tell.
I stood in the cloud as the
snowflakes circled around. I looked everywhere,
but all I could ever see was you.
Your head hung low and
whispers escaped, but they were so faint
that they dissipated in the wind.
I watched you both crash through the city
with a mind to find a better pastime.
But the preface was always too much
for you.
I saw the slap the footprints imprinted.
I heard the words- too harsh for
someone like you.
I wish I could say that
I was always there, but truth be told,
the chains and shackles kept
me far away.
Not all clouds can count to nine.
It had been many years, but I still remember.
My eyes were downcast during
those years, yearning to
see the faint smile- the beautiful chandelier
formidably hanging for all to speculate and revere.
But your lights had long since burnt out. The dust hung
deep.
I realized that I wasn’t your ticket.
If you gathered all your
hopes and dreams
of pleasures and
burned them away,
you could become
yourself.
Thanks. :D
wait_what, February 24th, 2007 at 04:50:14pm
"thinking with an empty brain", "joy of lies" and "the maiden" are my favorites
your poetry is really good
XD
billy fuckwit., February 24th, 2007 at 04:36:43pm