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stick my finger in
like FUDGE
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It’s all blown up in Their faces somehow
the commercials don’t make SENSE
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I'm the water turning to steam.
boiling subsides a double edged sword
by Joe Spencer
19 lines, 2 comments,
on Mar 6 1:36 AM. In Love, Sad, Hope, Angst, Spiritual, Life, Beat, Freewrite, Pain, Frustration
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Real with bias with a kingdom for a soul
whose construct is lies brewed from freezing evil river
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We share a lot of things
Like blood
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If you’ve grown to your own space
If the thoughts pass through soil and time
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He lets his hair fall over his eyes
So that nobody ever sees his tears when he cries
by HappyHopes
63 lines, 1 comment,
on Feb 16 2:26 PM. In pain, sad, die, emo, cry, mom, dad, kill, beat, alone
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"This is not life," he whispers.
"I had oatmeal for breakfast.
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the two homeless men
dancing underground
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There's no defense to say you wouldn't
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She She slept with my bestfriend
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the fingers fall back the words are meaningless
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slightly more evil
where wires run six feet
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with me
on this sauce wave
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no friend named jesus
And you've been told
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typewriter?
right-wronger?
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The Universe
lay in my clit, my magic bean
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Casting Judgment
Determining Reality
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I hear you Sarah Vaughan
through my Grandma's ears
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fruit loop lens tonight
when we pluck the music off the walls
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Portrait of a man whose asshole learned to speak Portrait of a man who turned hormonal longings into a moth-eaten night spent under the stars
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moth casts his wriggling shadow
projecting goliath 'cross the page of prophetic bards
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Jazz is not jabbering,
jagged, juvenile, jargon
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The American Dream sold for dollars on Wall Street
Payed to prostitutes in the Western Twilight
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Weave as brainbrow
tools of flesh bow
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Clash against their two tone uniform
my Purple against their gray
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the wake of the mind would slap the constraint of time with its unforgiving pleasure tool
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Collect flashing neon and
Devour sparkling merit.
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Battleship one, two, three, launching the ravenous bear
pitted against the savage shark,
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Daytime, weary-head and heavy hands, slow moan of the
park bench under stress in an afternoon of shiny rays
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There’s a sing-song quality
to the kid’s voice when he talks.
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In this city, there is a mouth that yawns during the drug-eyed dawn,
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New soft space, this dying world in your lap
not up for negotiation, notions of nostalgia
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The Need simple logic inexpensive basic human rights
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Life long day, roof parties, true parties Eye witness, caress history
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To tell you the truth, I am scarred for you to crawl up inside my mind I fear you will learn things that push you away
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Are we reaching our expiration date?
…maybe another hundred years…
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You can’t spread democracy
without waging war
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There's a heart at the bottom of a bottle of wine...
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right, right on
I say, right now
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