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tables
Tables, tables The maze, a labyrinth The man with the shirt that says; Beans not war. stands up. The swarm begins for the tables, tables, emptying. The cup-carrying, waiting for tables, tables. He takes his cups placed precariously one on top of the other, the others, swarming he's left his table and they jump put their things down as if to claim the tables, tables, to rest their wary caffeine-soaked tired and, exhausted to the core bones. from the days and days of waiting, for tables.
created
I created something beautiful today a monster (in a way) lipstick smeared across my cheek (I was scared- of myself) Mascara thick and black something like a beauty queen wrecked and tossed around thrown out the door. I created something beautiful today can't find my makeup remover. Can't seem to get rid of it.
common
It seems to me that the things that are most common are some of the things that are the hardest to appreciate. The sunrise (I just can't get up) or the stars (I'm just so tired) and... mm the air, the flowers, and some days I just have to remind myself how god awfully small I am.
spike
he reached through his hair slicked back with gel plucking each strand as he went (spike, spike, spike) jake, the boy with the hair. the things that make you fall in love when you're a little kid.
velvet
when I was little I used to carry around a ribbon with me slipping it between my fingers rubbing it back and forth (security blanket) every month going to the fabric store eying the bundles and bundles of velvet, running my fingers across the fabric being able to choose something that would without a doubt comfort me, and (life was simpler)
beach
my finger tips like to slide in between the sand and wonder, deliriously, on the edge of of the heat, the bones - people- things sweat- crabs- fish- trees all matters of the world that have wound themselves up grated themselves down and found themselves under my finger tips.
tide
when I was little we went to the beach and lost in the wind, the grass swayed and I was gone, somewhere beyond the bushes tossing and turning in the grains a man grabbed my hand and he looked down at me and said let's find where you belong.
bleach
bleach wash it all away in a sea of white and burning my eyes, stinging, tearing up cleaning it all away. I reach towards the bottle and motion "Don't drink" and "Not for children" and these other things you don't find out until you're too old to care.
waltz
wedding whites and pearls pinks and peaches she swings around hung limply on your arm a waltz, a waltz, to a song she's been singing in her head a sigh escapes her lips as a sign it's never what she imaged.
revolt
fist pumping in the air flags lining the cement dripping, snow cone, ice shaved of my freedoms as they shout faggot. slut. whore. lies wearing the rainbow and wondering where to stand how to sit what I'm doing wrong today, this moment fist pumping in the air I'm still here (not going anywhere)
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