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Rushing
Rushing rushing
To expedite the
Process of getting
Through this life
Without the constant
Memories of how
Or why I did.
No pleasures,
Too soft for me.
No painfulness,
It's too rock
Hard for me.
To too hard a
Heart, I cling.
I don't want to
Feel anything.
I want to cast my sail
And glide effortlessly
In and out of one
Place to another on a sea
Of nameless faces
And faceless names.
If I can't see him
How much harder to
Remember is he?
Nothing, nothing
Is what I long to feel.
Indeterminately I will
Be rushing, rushing
Through the cortex of
Forgetfulness,
My life.
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I watch him
With out any love
All of the old valour a thin, velvet exterior.
Nothing more luxurious than make believe.
Imaginary
by Von Ramstein
Bitterness
Standing still on the beach
thinking of the hurtful speech.
Wondering why he had to be cruel,
and makes the sand being
All this knowledge surrounds,
It is everywhere but in our own minds;
Therefore it only accomplishes to confound
All the many
Burnt
Your shadow is a whore's:
a sinuous silhouette
that melts before you,
that
sultry whisper,
stuck in thin indigo wind.
an old
by Cate Stewart
Bitter is the taste in my mouth
when the facts are obvious
but no one shouts them out.
If I breathed in the scent of firewood,
bitter
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Poetry: Bitter
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