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About Me

  1. My boyfriend told me he had a problem with smoking cigarittes, marijuana and drinking alcohol in the past before we got together. He told me when he got with me i had made him to want to quit that.(i know he tried) and he wanted to be a better person for me b/c i never had any dealings with drugs, alcohol or smoking. Just about 10 weeks ago he got busted with some others during school and was sent to a drug center for 7 weeks at the end he barely passed the drug test for marijuana. And on may 8th he broke up with me and he wanted to be just friends b/c he said he didn't want to get me to change in personality b/c of his drug problem. We had been together for 7 1/2 months almost. But now he is so depressed and quick to get angry when i call him now when we used to talk for hours. At school he's just his regular self. But when i call he has an angry tone and say's hes busy and can't talk and one time his mom said she didn't know where he went for most of Sat. I'm just so worried about him and he don't want to go back to the drug center but i don't know if he wants to quit and its worrying me to death b/c im so scared that my ex/first boyfriend is going to get sick and/or possibly die. I saw him on the webcam and he looked like he hadn't slept well, and was sick looking when earlier he was all smiles, happy, and talkative at school during lunch It made me cry the when i saw him like that and he won't talk to me about it. I love him so much and his problems are just making his anxiety disorder worse also. i just can't help but cry at night b/c he's suffering through so much and i don't think his parents are helping eaither, i think they are buying him cigarettes and letting him drink at his house, in fact i know his stepmom buys him cigarettes and she know he smokes marijuana. So if anyone has any help to get him to talk to me or at least some ideas on some ways i could help him think about quiting more seriously b/c seeing him like this and thinking about what could happen is really killing me. Please Help if you can. Jen_Jen
  2. Daydreams daydreams Why am I smoking so much? Because it’s like forgetting. Numbing. Clearing my mind, filling my lungs. I just want to breath you in, it’s an obsession I can’t quite grasp or shake. It makes no sense. 
 Quiet calm collected- externally
 Cold shaken resented - internally 
 Explore- I want to. 
Answers- I need to. 
 Questions I can’t quite put together. 
 Crave craze cure
 Is it all insane or am I?! For wanting it this bad and needing you like it’s all I have. Every opportunity flashed like a disk, erased in a brisk bittersweet motion. All these notions Feel like potions I’ve been poisoned. I need this more than you know. Just to know, So you know, I don’t really know Why.
  3. I have observed what goes on outside the french window so many times with more curiosity than just plain noseiness. Today the sky is bright blue and there is hardly a cloud in sight. The large trees that surround the street stand tall with thick chocolate brown trunks and long branches some thich and others thin. The wind sways the bright green summertime leaves back and fourth. So many different coloured flowers that only bloom in summer, colours of white, yellow, raspberry pinks and lilacs surround front gardens, some you can see planted in the soil others you can see peeking out of bushes twinkling like gem stones. I don't suppose many people would be that interested in writing about what they see every day, most people get up at seven in the morning maybe sip coffee whilst they get ready to rush of to their nine to five lives, most people care about the more practical, logical things like making sure the tank in the car is full with petrol, others rush so they don't miss their buses or trains. There are very few that see things that are hidden, undiscovered and those things, the unseen things are the most beautiful of all. You would think I would be outside the window inhaling the fresh air and enjoying the way the sun feels on my skin. You would think I would have a daily routine like most people do. You see all of us have options I could choose to go about every day life I could travel in the rush hour if I wanted to, I could do what I should be doing but I choose not to. You want to know why?, because if I choose to step outside I have to ask myself a question. Who am I really when I step outside into the world?, If I could go back in time and observe me from outside the window I'd say I don't make eye contact with anyone just the floor, my body language is uncomfortable and the way I'm walking means I just want to get today over with and fast. I stay hidden in a crowd and on a one on one basis. When I'm out there I wear a mask and a imaginary shield protects me from everyone and everything, I don't feel anything apart from the breeze in my hair and the sun on my skin. I could say who I am isn't who I'm meant to be, but maybe it is. Maybe the parts that I hate so much about myself like being socially awkward, maybe I am just meant to be that way. Maybe I wasn't born to fit in, maybe I was born to be the observer, the writer. Most days I see the same three men walk past my house. The first man always walks past my house in the morning sometimes at nine sometimes at ten. He is tall and slender and looks in his thirites. No matter what the weather he always wears a long leather coat that flys out at the back when he walks, it kind of looks like a cloak. His black hair is always slicked back in that old fashioned way and his skin is so white and flawless and he always carries the same intense look on his face. He feels like an outcast, like he doesn't belong I can sense it from him. I don't see him as what other people might label him as, I look at him and I see hes just misunderstood with an old fashioned charm about him. The second man walks past my house in the afternoon and he is young, in his twenties and he is lovely looking. He either wears a gray or a baby blue jump suit and I know he's a mechanic. He is a average size with blonde short hair and blue eyes, he always looks thoughful whilst he smokes his cigarette, I always feel like smokers smoke for a reason and that reason isn't to look cool. The last man that walks past my house is also tall his skin is a light olive tone and his face has so much bone structure to it he wears glasses and a hat with a dull green coloured coat and a dull colour gray rucksack, I can't sense as much from him as I can sense from the other two but I can tell he's not like most people. Whenever I see these three men walk by I feel a kind of connection to them and I feel like maybe they feel alone like I do. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to open the door and walk up to each of them and tell them that I see them walk past my house every day and that I can sense their emotions, but that would be just weird. The truth is I don't know anything about them and I never will. We will never know absoloutly everything about everyone, we think we do but we don't. That's the mystery, the beautiful thing that is unseen.
  4. Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question. . . 10 Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20 And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30 Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions And for a hundred visions and revisions Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40 [They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all; Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50 I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60 And how should I presume? And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [but in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl. And should I then presume? And how should I begin? . . . . . Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70 And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . . I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling accross the floors of silent seas. . . . . . And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80 But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet–and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, 90 To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all" If one, settling a pillow by her head, Should say, "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all." And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, 100 After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?— It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say: "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all." 110 . . . . . No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool. I grow old . . . I grow old . . . 120 I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130 Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
  5. When you smoke when you drink, and you drink too much, and you live undercover, under blanket, under pillow With no direction with your life; A plan's here you're sure Some emergency escape, some hidden plot hole Somebody to guide you in a certain direction Holding your hand, smiling with affection Some love to rely on, lean and confide in Until you decide to curb stomp again. But there's nothing there, no happy ending No horse ridden sunset, no great epic conclusion All the life lessons that served as your tools, crashing down in front of you,unused, The gates breached, the soldiers slain, the warmth of the battle, no time to dig graves Stretches to a courtyard, you're reluctant to cross, the silence of death, pain and of loss. You crawl through the courtyard, and fall into mud, sinking deeper and deeper, mistakes piling up over your stupid, ignorant head. Until you drown in your guilt, sadness and shame You've hit rock bottom, and you need to take blame You've hit rock bottom, and you need to take my hand I'm angry, because you keep falling, again, and again, and again.
  6. It’s 3AM, and here I am almost 2 years later to the day.... Sitting alone on this lonely beach. The same beach where we went out on our third date, where we had a picnic, drank some wine, and ran through the water together like two kids in love, like something out of a cheap romance novel. This is same beach where I began to fall in love with you. Where we began our journey together. I’m sitting here like we once did, but it's not the same as before... It's so lonely, desolate and quiet, not like it once was. The waves, they're taunting me, like they know. The beach is so cold and oh so unwelcoming. I sit here thinking, afraid to go home. Afraid to go back to sleep. Afraid to wake up. Sitting here, asking the same questions over and over. Questions that I don’t have the answers to, questions I may never have the answers to. I know I’m just tormenting and exhausting myself by running through my head over and over, trying to figure it all out. But I can’t help it. Should I try to move on? I can’t, I don’t want to...I don't want to fade away. I know soon I will head home, back to my now empty bed. I’ll go and smoke one more cig before I finally lay down, trying to sleep. And I know as I lay motionless, I’ll just dream and prey for you to come through that door like you use to, and you’ll come lay down next to me, tell me you love me and missed me. I’ll wrap my arms around you, holding you tight and kissing you and we'll fall asleep like old and I’ll finally wake up, wake up from this nightmare like nothing ever happened. I’ll dream and prey, knowing it won’t happen. I keep on telling myself one more day, I wish I had one more day or one more hour or one more minute with you. Just one more minute of looking at you or one more embrace or one more kiss or just one more moment feeling your presence. I know that's not true though. One more will never be enough with you. I don't remember being so selfishly happy as I was when I was with you. It knocks the wind out of me how in just days of being with you could suddenly make the world without you be so unfamiliar. Everything is exactly the same as it once was before you. Same bed, same route, same people, same work but somehow it's different. “They” keep telling me to pick myself up, each day will get easier. Just go out and keep busy, and even to just go get laid. I keep busy but the moments when I am alone it all comes flooding back like the unwelcoming waves on this ocean beach. And how can I go out and get laid. It feels like I’m cheating on you, cheating myself. It won’t help. Trying to fill that huge empty void with meaningless sex isn’t going to do it. Nothing can do it but maybe time itself. And maybe they’re right, maybe each day may get easier. Maybe the day will finally come when I'll wake up and I won't look over to see if you're there, one day I'll wake up and I won’t think it was all a bad dream, one day the tears will stop flowing from my eyes, one day I will stop hurting, one day I won’t wake up and feel the anger over everything that has transpired. And maybe one day I will be learn how to love someone else and let myself go again but I also know I'll never love anyone as much as I did love you. I feel like destiny is laughing in my face, like our story got cut short. Maybe it didn't, maybe fate brought us together, only to rip us apart. But it feels like it, there's so many things I had planned, so many things I wanted to do, so many questions I had, so much I wanted to tell you, so much I wanted to experience with you. Maybe fate will bring us back together one day….or maybe in 2 days or 2 weeks or 2 months or 2 years or even 2 decades. .. Maybe the day will come. It'll be like we never left. We’ll come back to this same beach, and we’ll run around through the sand like the kids we once were. In the meantime, I’ll just try to keep pushing myself and keep busy. Try to push myself further and further, harder and harder. Try to find out what I am made of. Try to stay strong, but also vulnerable because I have to be. I have accepted what has happened and grow. Just keep my mind free, grow and experience who I am and what this life, my life, is all about. You know, for that hour to two hours when play basketball or football, I focus on myself and lose myself. For that hour to two hours I am fully excused for not caring about anything else in the world but my own body. Just to focus on my breathing. Just putting one foot in front of the other. Focus on running, making the shot, jumping up and grabbing the rebound. It gives me an excuse to yell, to curse, to push, and even to even cry. It gives me that excuse I need to live. I’ll keep strong. I’ve learned a lot about myself and what I need to do and what changes I need to make. I figure that this is the life I need to re-adjust to. I just need to find the energy, the appetite, and the patience. No matter how strange it feels, I need to find my courage to live this life again. I will keep on missing you, I am sure of that. I am longing for you so bad it pierces my skin and shatters what's left of this heart. Maybe I will just remind myself to breathe in and breathe out as steadily as possible and wait for the day until it comes naturally again. It is hard though...to go back and leave that place. I miss all the trivial things about you…like the lines of your tattoo, the way you fall asleep with her head on my stomach, the way you snore and take up the entire bed, you little mannerisms. Of course I miss the much bigger things as well. And I do love you; I do love you with all my heart like I always have. I do await the day we may be together again like we never left. My love for you will last a lifetime my love. But for now, it's time to head back to that same car, take that long empty drive back home, make my way back to the same home, take that one last smoke and make my way back to the same, now empty bed so I can lay my head down and dream. Where I may finally sleep. Where I may begin to finally wake up. This beach will always wait for us my love.
  7. This is a funny poem I wrote today with no serious intentions to it. Enjoy. Sweet Memories My soul was shaken You made it awaken Then I cooked bacon We made sweet love by the fire Without any clothes or attire It had a lot of passion and desire You made me your squire Until it all turned to mush So I smoked the purple kush Without anything to lose I drank much booze Until it was time to snooze After my soul awakened I was forsaken Another one lost The fleeting memories of my lonely heart
  8. I am a 16 year old guy and I was caught by my parents smoking pot today with some of my friends. My older brother has gone through this sort of thing with drugs and partying and is currently in trouble for a DWI he got last summer. My parents have had to go through a lot with him and I don't want to do that. I don't want to hunt my parents like that but I don't want to stop smoking. It helps me relieve stress and it's just fun to do. I understand the conciquences of getting caught by my parents and the police and I have seen first hand how it can affect a family. Part of being a teenager is experimenting with different things, drugs being one of them, to figure out who they are. I dont really know what I am getting at with all this but I just wanted to vent some of my feelings.
  9. IF YOU HAVE A SENSE OF HUMORE...THIS POEM FOR YOU ----------------------------------- Haveing a ishy day. Wanna have somethin to put me in a Daze. Walk threw a cloud of Haze. I just wanna chill with my girl. Her skin is green. Her name is ganja queen. And she said To Me. Dis will ease your Problems. Dis will Make You Forget. And say F- IT & All The rest. Haveing a Ishyer day then the one b4. Wanna have something thats gunna make me relax. So i think of where to score. I go to my girl house. I hear nothing but reggae playing . ganja girl comes and says here you go gal. dis will put a smile on your face. dis will make you laugh. dis will make you for get the crappy day you had. I smoke and i get high. I puff i get higher. And I'm stuck. Have you ever got stuck? And said F---!!! LMAO. To those That got kids. To those that work with idiots all day. To those that have dumb g/f's and you feel like You wanna choke the liveing ish outa them. To those that hit ther heads on the wall. Smoke some Marijuana....And see how those feelings change...and poof like magic it all gose away.
  10. I’ve never been this far from home That is if I can still call it Home Is somewhere far and the Holes in my brain and in them this is where my House Use to be Sadly the wine has dissolved the images In an aerosol can is the poison My Lungs can’t breathe Gag reflex Maybe a puff of smoke that clouds the alveoli An orgasm in my brain makes it better but the damage is done “going home?” “I can’t remember”
  11. If I walk will I fall? If I try will I fail? If I drive will I crash? If I sleep will I dream of nightmares? If I give will I get? If I've loved will I've lost? If I live will I die? If I speak must I whipser? If I laugh will I cry? If I listen will I Learn? If I smoke will I burn? If I play will I lose? If there's one must I choose? If I dig will I get buried? If I steal will I own? If I'm there is it home? If I speak will I lie? If I love must I lose? If I live must I die?
  12. The way things ought to look Dilapidated, dim The wind and sounds of Rushing cars grate like a Bow accross electric Guitar strings, distorted. I am watching the smoke Rise like a soul burning Held in my hand like a fiery reminder Of how you left my life Made of smoke, and leaving Ashes in your wake. Each ribbon wrapping my Leg has your name on it. They are because of you; They will always be mine. The dull burning red, like Dying cigarettes is All I will ever have.
  13. Was that his name? The one from "catcher in the rye" Man, I feel like him tonight. Lost, alone yeah... yeah, OK, I admit it, lonely I confess...lonely I walked into a nearby pub. It used to have poetry readings, I used to go there with a g/f a thousand years ago...or so it seems. Whatever. I look at the booth we used to sit. No, I don't miss her but I miss something You know that feeling...missing something. The girl at the bar give me the eye, she looks me up and down, but then she is suddenly joined by a protective b/f - you know the type - he owns her, he lets the bar know. I sit down, she steals another look. She doesn't want to be with him but she can't leave - she is insecure. She looks at me but...my face is expressionless. She shows alot of leg. Whatever. I wander the streets, it's still winter here - * * * * , it's always winter in Canada...it fits my mood. I wish I still smoked, I miss it sometimes... I should go home and go to sleep, I have to work tomorrow. But the apartment is lonely....I will wander some more maybe... I live in a big city, a city full of lonely people, why can't we just meet up somehow? No one will read this post...whatever.
  14. Hey guys, Am I the only one who doesn't celebrate national pot smoking day? Also, right now I feel discouraged because recently I met a lot of people but I find out tonight that a lot of them are celebrating this holiday. I'm not going to judge them because of it or anything but it just discourages me you know? I personally don't ever plan to do drugs. Should I stop hanging out with these people? Not all of them do it but I would say a good 2/3 or so do it.
  15. My girlfriend and I have been going out for close to 4 months. I used to smoke weed alot in my past and now I've become so against it. I've told her this before. She said she was also. I also smoke cigarettes and she told me she used to, but never will. She only had one occasionally. But just last week she admitted to me that she does smoke cigarettes whenever she can get one, but she didnt want me to know for some odd reason since I also smoke. There have been times I've talked to her and she'd say she feels so extremely happy and start laughing for no reason. Just today, I was talking to her in school and her eyes were so red and dialated and she couldnt stop laughing. I even brought up if she has been doing them and she'd just say, "I'm not." then change the subject. She claims she's done it 3 or 4 times in her life. I know about weed. I used to do it 3 or 4 times a day for a year and then I stopped because it scared me on how I was becoming. I know that when someone smokes weed, its very gradual on how frequent they'll smoke it. I'm worried about her. The signs were there for me, but she denys that she is high and I have no proof. Please! please tell me what I can do! Do you guys think there's a possibility that she's not and if you think she is, how do you think I can get her to admit it? I care for her and I dont want her to become what I became. Please respond with any opinion you have. This is really important to me. Thank you
  16. Hi all, So I'm 20(21 soon) years old and I live with my Mother. Now the thing is I smoke Mary Jane on special occasions, like christmas, in my bedroom while my Mom is in the lounge room watching the boob tube. The thing is my mother doesn't like any drugs but even is she new I was smoking pot she wouldn't say anything because she isn't the type that likes to get into arguments, she likes to keep things peaceful by ignoring the facts. Do you think she smells the weed? I mix it with tobacco and light up my spliff and I keep my door closed. The thing is she's only in the next room about 10 feet away! You guys think she can smell the sweet cheeba the next room over??? Maybe I'm being paranoid because I just smoked another doobie just over an hour ago. But sometimes when I live my room to stock up on cookies and chocolate she gazes into my eyes...... oh my eyes get pretty bloodshot sometimes too, I just say I was sleeping and I just woke up which is why I look all sleepy? So do you think she knows I'm smoking sweet sinsemillia outta my bedroom or what? Thanks. I might just be paranoid still though coz I've been on the chronic since yesterday. Advice please.
  17. Ok my mom told me i was going to be a future pot-head. Because i like the smell and stuff and i kinda grew up around it. Well anyways i smoked a blunt with some friends last night and got high, can anyone describe the high, because last time i tried to smoke weed i had an anxiety attack and totally freaked. i just want to make sure i didnt have one last night, i had to keep my cool b/c one of my really good friends was there last night and i didnt want to look like a dumbbutt infront of her. so the question is how is the high? what is it like?
  18. hey everyone. i've been thinking a lot about this song... what do you guys think the meaning is? is it regarding the american dream or american identity or individuality? any other ideas? I DON'T BELIEVE - Paul Simon Acts of kindness, like breadcrumbs in a fairytale forest Lead us past dangers as light melts the darkness But I don't believe, and I'm not consoled I lean closer to the fire, but I'm cold The earth was born in a storm The waters receded, the mountains were formed "The universe loves a drama," you know And ladies and gentlemen this is the show I got a call from my broker The broker informed me I'm broke I was dealing my last hand of poker My cards were useless as smoke Oh, guardian angel Don't taunt me like this, on a clear summer evening as soft as a kiss My children are laughing, not a whisper of care My love is brushing her long chestnut hair I don't believe a heart can be filled to the brim Then vanish like mist as though life were a whim Maybe the heart is part of the mist And that's all that there is or could ever exist Maybe and maybe and maybe some more Maybe's the exit that I'm looking for I got a call from my broker The broker said he was mistaken Maybe some virus or brokerage joke And he hopes that my faith isn't shaken Acts of kindness Like rain in a draught Release the spirit with a whoop and a shout I don't believe we were born to be sheep in a flock
  19. Bullets surrounding me, explosions deafening my ears, Brothers dying, wiping away my blood, sweat and tears. Where are they at? Who's coming after me? Where are they shooting from? Am I really free? Is this my hell, where I'll lay to die? The place where all my buddies go, to fight for freedom while our significant others cry? Loading up my chamber, looking down the line, scream, aim, fire! sight to sight, everything is blood red, minutes seem like hours. the heat feels like a fire on my helmet. the touch of metal is like an oven. after the smoke clears I sit and look around me, bodies and blood everywhere, Am I really in Hell? Musicguy© Feb. 2007
  20. ANIMAL There’s an animal climbing inside I can feel its retracted claws warily pacing, quiet as powder falling on taffeta But heavier than a Gorgon’s grip at my throat. Something wants out -- out of sense, into Oblivion. Something aches to pound A new shape into this red clay Heart. But every shape is lost so easily, whipped Icing on the cake. If only I could put this beast in the icebox to freeze along with the frostbitten and unrecognizable, but crystals just won’t take. Coals won’t burn, but the smell of wood and smoke snakes through my hair. The clouds won’t rain, the thunder won’t clap, but the farther I drive into the storm the brighter darkness gets. Lightening wakes me noiselessly, warning me how naked the Nape of my neck. Vivisected without being opened I carry along entrails fit for Kings and vultures, endangered wolves -- fresh as pomegranate and deep dark molasses, I might offer in a plea. There’s something stepping through me Wild with its eyes. Laying low, breathing on my spine, filling its jaws steadily With great bites of thunder and rain, only a matter of time, so ravenous for the chance. Copyright D.A.F., 2008
  21. i had to vent one night, so i wrote this poem, its a little dark, but i am alot better now, i just want to know what anyone else thinks, i have blanked out the swares with asterisks. LIFE I don't know what to do, I think i'm gonna fall, Breakdown to the floor, And do nothing but bawl, This plane of life, Is about to crash, And in my heart, There will be a big gash I'm tired of being hurt, Tired of being used, I'm tired of being laughed at, And tired of being abused, My mom always says, "Life will get better", How can that be, When I'm put through the shredder, Some times i think, Everyones above, I,m just lower, And i'll never find love, I've tried many pills, I've even smoked dope, But it never helps, There's no way to cope, I got out the gun, I wanted to be dead, I loaded it up, And put it to my head, As i stared down the barrel, At the end of the muzzle, I figured it out, The whole f***ing puzzle, Life may not be great, Life may be unfair, But f*** what they say, I don't f***ing care, so now i'm okay, i'm feeling alrite, i can see my goal, its in plain sight.
  22. Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia I like writing your name In my notebook Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia I like thinking of you In my car Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia I like selling you crack In the alley Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia Synthia I like smoking with you Ín the street Ham Milk 2 packs of marlboros Some bean spread Tin foil Lighter Candy for sam Cat food (cheap cat food) Batteries (AAA)
  23. I was at this bar last night.. everyone so happy... and somehow I couldn't stop thinking about ex. These words just came to me so here it goes.. any suggestions to make it better or feedbacks are more then welcome. Thank you for reading it. ( I still love here so deeply it has been 8 months almost but I can't forget her. Empty bottles of beer and candle light I remember how I had you in my life Winter is here and I am all alone I can feel the cold through my bone. People come walk dance I don’t see you at any glance I remember the world in your eyes Now I all I remember is my night cries. I am smoking the last cigarette of the day. Hoping to see you some day.
  24. this smoke screen is nothing compared to your vanishing tricks my strutting is nothing compared to the spiritual licks you gave to the right side of my head breaking me down is nothing compared to what i want to do you instead give me that challenging smile again give me that self deceiving line you've rehearsed a thousand times give me the impossible the most illogical of doubts and watch me crush them in my trembling hands watch me turn my fears into the sand dune of time watch me
  25. Small smoked room, filled with toxic fumes. Trying to look past the irrationalizations which consumes. It's difficult to resolve the problems If the problems were caused by Us. I told you relationships were built solely on trust. But you were too afraid to take responsibility for your actions, That's why it's so hard not to find a new attraction. You knew what I wanted, and you exposed it with ease, Now you've lost your sanity, and I'm becoming difficult to please. You can call me a stoner or even an alcoholic, But you can't look at your own addictions, it seems a bit ironic. Don't think I didn't love you for a while once before, But now it's been lost, just to call you is a chore. Maybe when we're healthy, we can be together, But you must know that, right now, we just aren't good for each other. I'm sorry it had to happen without a warning sign, but for some reason lately, I don't want you to be mine.
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