Stalking my memory

His soft mutter
screamed uncertainty in my ears,
Despite his unobtrusive tone.
Startled by my stare,
his legs crossed paths of confusion out the door.

Gawking at his cheap rubber shoes,
Invaded my conscience with tar.
The cloudy image of
His tousled brown hair,
Revealing only his painful eyes.
Twisting reality for sympathy,
Alleviating tension
By placing
Our hearts and his swords between our spoken word.
Flattery was his intent,
Though nailed me with sorrow.
Puzzled and distressed,
Humans wore masks,
And I was complete
With everything …
He lacked.
And his internal attack,
Punctured my guilt.
My kind words and nods,
Slaughtered his
Last hope.

… his mutter reminded me,
To remember -means you forgot.
Though he stuck with me
Because I never could relate to his pain.

CaitlynCaitlynCaitlyn

CaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlynCaitlyn
LeybaDumbLeybaDumbLeybaDumb
SoSorrySoSorrySoSorry
ShameSadShameSad
NeverAgainEver
ISwear
Sigh
I

BooksCoffeePens

I left some title ideas under Molly's post. How much time has to pass before you guys stop calling me Leyba?

Any books?

Leyba, Caitlyn, Sara (Leah I talk to you all the time... I'll ask in person)

Have any of you read any great books lately? I have not had the time to read lately (damn work...) but I finally picked up a book I started in February on vacation. It's been a while- but I would like to start reading a lot again, I miss it. Any reccomendations?

My pen is dusty

Hey. I'm so pleased to find you writing here. Man, I love that. I'm not surprised at all to see who is writing and reading here. I love you people. VanZant, sell everything you own and buy paper. Caitlin, I feel like a stalker when I read your words. Molly, you dress secrets in sheer clothing. Leah, show em what you got! I'm reading but not writing much and I am motivated after reading you guys. Shut up and write.

lloyd

no name game

She asked if we've all felt the knocking urge
to shed off our concerns
and reveal our spirit.
We all want to,
There is no need to wait.
Stand up and dance.
Now is our time.
But this girl remained nailed to her seat,
dissimilar to the crowd
because she knew the ones who danced,
stood in twos for a reason,
and those who need to release the poison of uncertainty,
sit and shave off their intentions,
perpetuating the tradition of conformity,
while pounding on their tattered souls,
by simply sitting down.
While the guy in green races around,
dancing his spirit into seizures,
because he loves the adrenaline;
The people dancing in twos
do not lend him one eye.
And the girl sits while her mind is dancing
around her missing identity.
She wanted to dance solo,
but her thoughts drowned the song.
Thinking is her addiction.