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MADDER GREY MADDER GREY
People like Juliet and Romeo grace the magazine sheets, and models abash the swollen confidence of plain girls and boys. The reeling horror flick covers my TV and lapses of insomnia ensue. Alarm clocks set off and go. Causing a girl to look up onto the eyes of lionesses whose fur matches that of broken beige pots, as they're nestling against the backs of shrapnel. Fleets of men walk the desert with the ushering of war to come. Blue eyes flame the sullen wake of wounded bodies in the aftermath.
A piano plays in my house.
Flutters of chaos ensure no peace of mind is let out. A hand reaches to be understood from a language not known to them. Tears drain the soldiers' eyes as rubble dances in heighten fear. Finding an album with pictures of laughter causes an unknowing string of what's to come. Losing their teeth as the body shakes in all this uncertainty. Students and rebels alike turn, and put heads on shoulders but sure don't know where to go. C
Another Cold NightIn a light bulb so clear, the rain is pouring as it soaks my legs, at the time that they run across the jagged road, with layer and layers of small rocks. Lucrative paths cross in subducted lines. I hear breathe and i want to gasp. Reaching the dinner room I take my place, feeling the apprehensive nature of peoples lurches and grunts to cancer. Conversations turn cruel and simple minded. Soaring in the midst of standing up I take glances at the boxes of moving items. Coursing through the veins of these liars I see a tiger chained and dying a thousand deaths. This house is gated but the alley way has no way out except forward, no right turn leads out. In a fit of knowingness and unacknowledged fools I turn to that door that leads out. Following the gasping urges my body feels obliged to do, I turn right.
My mind opens wide, the need to escape overwhelms these eyes and legs. I quiver and the heart begins to race a million times a second. I needed a way out, a brick wall, garbage cans wit
Hold me in focusClean like the wooden slate, bracing the engulfing loathes of words that peter out of the parking lot.
Abashed with mediocre crews and speckled baboons. I want to kiss the moon and spread the trees apart gaining
a memorialized asset. I decided my future, with headless ideas and transparent, delicate lady foxes. With dreams earning fame
and when i wake i want to kiss the morning sky, holding your shoulders like sliding hills. LEaving red doors open and submerged in the crowds of ocean waves.
Quiet like the midnight sprint of trapped and suffocated fugitives or free willed students.
Rebelling against the mundane ushering in the wake of drowning jaws with bodies pulling their heads out of the mud. Muscles contorted and refurbishing paws took away more then the heads that were meant for control and leadership.
Mind is full of deeds"Little Bird, what if i asked you to die?
Fall over the hedges with blasphemy riding down your vertebrae?
Licking the fangs of enemies dying to open their lungs. Can you ask yourself to close
them? Close the very essence of you so that we may not look upon it like a cut open corpse."
The bird look awry as if the sentence strewn forth on to him, was the perplexing enabler of his demise.
"No I will not."
"Will you succumb to the everlasting timidness that is your breed and niche. Leaping forth at the bigger masses. Galloping on to the uncaring direction of force. Of Will."
"No, I have wrongs, none to claim and none to own, i am the passage to earth and the fire within. My breed of self doubt graces the masses and wills onward to the self assured. I will not die. I will not fall. I will not open. I will not cry. and i will not fall." The birds chest rose in might but with a second of doubt the creature he spoke to plucked one of his wing's feathers. In aghast the bird flew with a might of
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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