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And the air grows stale from aborted apologies.
It’s kind of funny how we think we’re grown up.
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Violent violet-streaked
acrylic smears of absolution
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The scent of stale popcorn and
deep-fried pork parts wafts like smoke
by Fayth
75 lines, 4 comments,
on May 9 7:49 PM 2006. In Other
-
Born from drugstore cellophane,
a baby razor, pink and new.
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Happiness is like the pit
at the center of rotten fruit
by Fayth
30 lines, 4 comments,
on May 9 7:03 PM 2006. In Other
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Juice drips form the corners of my mouth.
There is no satisfaction like mine.
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Blues make bruises
violent violet
by Fayth
12 lines, 3 comments,
on Mar 30 8:12 PM 2006. In Beat
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I guess they've never heard
of brains before beauty.
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Flesh and mud,
ash and bone
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A brown paper bag
erected into a bottle's curves
by Fayth
14 lines, 3 comments,
on Mar 30 6:55 PM 2006. In Dark
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You sound like a music box
with a couple broken strings.
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I'm starting to feel like everyday is Halloween.
Cabaret and plastic masks...
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I find myself
still buying you bagels,
-
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I'm collecting your kisses.
I'll put them on a string
-
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After all,
we're only born with so many words
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A gross attack on privacy,
her eyes glow like moonflakes
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As the treetops catch fire,
burning holes in the
by Fayth
9 lines, 3 comments,
on Jan 24 6:19 PM 2006. In Nature
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This seems so familiar,
it's been played a million times.
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Oh it hurts.
But it's meant to.
by Fayth
27 lines, 2 comments,
on Jan 13 6:01 PM 2006. In Dark
-
There's a hole in the sky that I'm
falling through.
-
Heeeey, look at that:
another wise-cracking black man.
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You were touching her face,
binding your finger with a strand of her hair.
by Fayth
22 lines, 4 comments,
on Dec 18 2:53 PM 2005. In Personal
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She smiles.
He's almost devised a way
by Fayth
44 lines, 4 comments,
on Dec 18 2:36 PM 2005. In Love
-
Close enough to
share breath
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For the moments
when your concentration
-
shouting at the sun for shining,
scrawling REVOLUTION
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You'd never noticed
an eye-lined elephant
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You smell like shadowy smiles,
new moons,
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Eyes closed, enjoying
warm, watery kisses,
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thermal handprints burn
my arms, my back.
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You have a spirit that
draws people to you
by Fayth
43 lines, 5 comments,
on Nov 13 5:41 PM 2005. In Personal
-
I'm falling apart like wet Kleenex,
but please don't throw me away.
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Far from the cold comfort
of an empty page.
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