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Post by Moonstone Maiden on Oct 27, 2010 9:17:14 GMT -5
I feel like I'm special enough to have stumbled upon your private diary. Reminds me' why I am in awe of you. As sharp and witty as ever. I loved the one ending with maple syrup down the chin
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Nov 21, 2010 16:52:47 GMT -5
Eat myself alive, from the inside out Icicles biting, Tearing at the flesh. There is no escape As lungs begin to crush.
Close your fists around my heart, Breaking frozen bloodflow As I slip away / Into another rage, Lost in fog and snow.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Dec 5, 2010 22:05:09 GMT -5
And I feel empty inside.. That rotted, hollow trunk, forgotten as I decompose. Moss creeping soaked roots. Succumb Moisture sucking away A once steady heart.. That West coast fog, Burrowing.. pulling At anything I had left.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Jan 5, 2011 23:09:11 GMT -5
It crushes me a thousand times, Wishing now For clearer eyes. How did it Just slip on by...
Black clouds Suck at Your still beating heart. I see them drain away... Colour... love... hope.
I cast a silent shadow, Try to scatter ravens, But theyve burrowed far too deep.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Feb 2, 2011 1:32:22 GMT -5
Crush me.. Beneath your fingers I quiver
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Pulled tight Abs ripple and burn
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wrists pushed hard
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Feb 11, 2011 22:59:28 GMT -5
Seven day sleeves
Ink drips down shoulder blades; Overflow emotion imprinted on flesh -raw to the touch-
Pale ale and lust lingering on tongues ready.
Colour still fresh paints across your heart.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Feb 12, 2011 1:03:38 GMT -5
Seven day sleeves; Seven nights between these hurting inked hearts.
Overflow emotion spilling.. Raw, naked tongues pushing deep, a taste of pale ale and lust.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Feb 12, 2011 20:35:21 GMT -5
Seven day sleeves; Seven nights between these hurting inked hearts.
Overflow emotion spilling.. Raw, naked tongues push deep.
A taste of pale ale and lust, colour still fresh paints across your heart.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Feb 22, 2011 21:22:27 GMT -5
I want to write you down...
Hesitant, I fear self judgment would close those gorgeous eyes.
You build your walls... But are you truly safe? How long will you keep me out before it crashes down.
I pry, brick by brick, pulling thoughts and loving looks like guitar strings.
Our fingers bleed.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Feb 23, 2011 12:33:32 GMT -5
Ive got sun streaming through muted clouds and shuttered windows. Lonely rays peaking; A glimpse. Enough hope that it hurts when pulled away.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Mar 7, 2011 12:09:24 GMT -5
Screaming... Your name, so natural on my tongue. Venom ripples, fear within my veins. You dont exist.
Dont save me. I need this.
Tear the flesh. Show me which way to pull.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Jul 17, 2011 19:29:56 GMT -5
Crates of seagulls, bone white and breaking against old, brittle wood; Stained white speckles flecked against worn out print.
Ever so gently, crates dropped.. Slender fingers sadly slipping slivers past into crashing, rocky white. Hearts etched into seafoam waves rock slowly, forever pained and regretting.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Sept 21, 2011 18:55:43 GMT -5
Pale Falls' noon sun wearily slides along frozen flesh of a body once worn. Brittle grass chips icily, as steam and soul search for new skin.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Sept 29, 2011 18:34:24 GMT -5
Stream of consciousness Running through bits and pieces of mental forest. Leaves soaked with brown... Mold... Other little things.
This moss is fuzzy on my teeth. I havent brushed in years.
A poem about not writing. So strange that most of us seem to do this every now and then.
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Post by _black phoenix_ on Oct 5, 2011 17:52:01 GMT -5
Black ink thick upon the sky. Pin-pricks: Milk. Blotched like inverted mistakes. Plums split hard, insides frosted... Violet flesh against earth.
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