Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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Don’t say anything don’t say anything at all.
Of course you wouldn’t and you won’t but I only say don’t because I wish you would.
We’re such a mistake and I wish we weren’t but when I look at you all I see is
I wish I could fix it for you
Put a smile on your face
Do something to make it better
Anything to make it better
Can you let me could you let me would you let me
You wouldn’t. You won’t.
I still want to see you happy with someone else because I know I can’t keep you and I want you to be happy
You keep saying I’ll lose it but I really just don’t think you understand me
At all.
I wish I could be rid of this fire you set.
I want to be over and done with it
Return to lament about how alone and lonely I am
In your heartbreak you will find comfort and understanding
In mine I find only ridicule and pitiful looks
You have no idea what this feels like
And you have no idea how it feels knowing you’ll be gone someday
And then I really will be all alone.
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There’s that feeling
The feeling of being forgotten
As I sit in the falling sun in my spot
It’s my spot
It’s my house so anywhere is my spot
I’ll never be disappointed by toilet paper again
Which means I was disappointed by it before
Strange freedoms in being forgotten.
Like a look at the paint on walls you once knew the colour of but forgot because you entered the room enough times that no matter the colour it didn’t occur to you
My walls are blue.
That blue that hoped in its life to be grey but it was blue instead.
Like grey forgot to be grey and became blue by accident.
I get dressed up every night just incase just incase someone pops by
Or anyone at all
Safe in my hall of silence
But it isn’t the quiet tranquility of alone time
It’s the sharp ringing silence of forever alone.
If I was an adult I would come into the room and say
Hey don’t sit on the arm of the couch it’ll get bent out of shape
But I’m me so I’m sitting on the arm of the couch.
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The eleven doesn’t leave on time
The inside of my jacket is the kind of grey that wants to be white
The assembled pile of acorns could be a feast later or sooner
The fourteen usually leaves on time
There’s never an absolute because people always ruin absolutes.
Lost couplets and cuff links.
Empty signs and the feeling of the ground moving with the monsters that traverse the travelled.
Come to me once just to see if it works.
Come to me twice because I need you.
Come to me more because you need me.
Please need me.
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This is the song
That catchy one
That never ends
Then begins again
Yes, it goes on and on
Before it’s long gone
My friends
Round and round they go
Some people started singing it
They are trapped in the round
Not knowing what it was
If there was a way to free you
Now they’ll continue singing it forever
I would
Just because,
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Worried
Turning
Falling
Wander
Tepid
Fawn
Went
Tumble
Followed
Loudly
Over
Lakes
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What are you reaching for, our there.
Beyond what we see and know why would you need to be bigger?
What are you reaching for and when can I know what it is and where it is?
It shouldn’t really matter to me I’ll never have answers for the questions
It’s just how I get the attention.
I still woke up without you
Even if I was with you
I wonder if memories of dreams are real memories.
I miss you.