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Sorry for my extreme unpoeticness, most especially in the beginning. But yeah, that was my day basically. I learned that even if you love a
by My Milieu
90 lines, 2 comments,
on Nov 10 6:44 PM 2008
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Every time I smell earl grey tea...
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I'm such a fool,
You're such a tool,
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When others look they say a fairy
My glance catches a skeleton
by My Milieu
29 lines, 1 comment,
on Nov 7 10:25 PM 2008. In Me.
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I was an elephant in my last life,
Voluptuous and envied I had no peace,
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Dragons hanging from my loft,
They spring out unto my cave.
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I’m out of my head
I can see the world around me clear,
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Cinnamon, I don't know your standards of dirty, but I'm hoping this is clean enough 
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This is incredibly annoying, long and badly written. It is a vent poem, so you truly shouldn't read it unless you're state is the epitome o
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Walking along briskly,
Always in such a rush,
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This is just goofy ass shit I wrote to my Stuey today.
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Black ~rivers~ through tan .:.:.sand.:.:.
Jump^ breathe__ jump^ breathe__
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If one thing stops
Start the next
by My Milieu
37 lines, 4 comments,
on Sep 25 10:09 PM 2008. In Hope, Humor, Life, Love, Lyrics, Other, Spiritual, Thoughts, Weird, Emo, My life
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Painting # 16 by Pino Daeni
by My Milieu
26 lines, 4 comments,
on Sep 18 9:22 PM 2008
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Along this long and windy road
The wind twists my hair and winds my robe
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Clear thy muddled mind of
Soft and subtle impurities
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Why such confusion,
For such simple things?
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You've been taking
My time and my honey
by My Milieu
23 lines, 4 comments,
on Sep 15 6:14 PM 2008
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Kissin' sunshine
When love is not kind
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In reference to the magazine of a gun, not porn. The gun is a metaphor for a person, me, the magazine is a metaphor for a guy. Choking on m
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Neatly placed, your lovely face,
So low in the caste of my life.
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Worse than my spine bent and bones broken,
Is my heart twisted with words unspoken,
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Also written when I was a bit younger
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It was a long time ago when I wrote this but whatever.
by My Milieu
14 lines, 2 comments,
on Sep 9 2:35 PM 2008. In Love
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Here on this earth,
Live out its worth,
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What happened to the days of love letters and poems?
To the days when you’d be the first to write?
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So bittersweet, too late to cry,
Or speak to those who quickly die.
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Yes, I know that sol is spelled without a u. It's latin and just a play on words.
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