Byzantium195

To the end and back again, I'll love you whole: that much is plain. Your life they stole and returned with pain. Broke your bones and smashed your brain. All hope seemed lost as tears did rain. The trial came..the trial went. Inside although my heart was spent, My doubt, that misered, had lament: She'd be mine again. You'd come again like a morning dove, I'll hold you close and show my love, A simple break from all the above, a release to end our pain. Yet fate be a fickle mistress, You lie mute in a body listless, Under all but constant distress, Robbed of all but your brain. Yet, I found solace in a promise, a denouemont to keep me sane

Jenn "So I just met you. And this is crazy. But here's my number. Call me maybe." "...That's a little cliche, don't you think?" : The call that never happens. Life, the anomaly that's priceless. Live it fully, before you end up lifeless. They give you one. You make it you. You set your path. It's not construed. We've got a life. A passing glance. Ten digits later: another chance. A simple dice roll, with fleeting lies, I'll call you out. Don't make me spy. It's not funny. And I'll find you. This is my number... How'd you get it. Well, it's gonna happen. But...why so soon? You find a friend. She plays her tune. You know that feeling?

Sweet delicious morsel, flour, milk, egg. You make my stomach growl. You make my taste buds beg. I love your fluffy goodness. I want you for your looks. You tasty, iced, marvel: stop teasing me in books. The batter mixed, the spatula licked, I deposit you in this oven. You waif with your tasty, tempting scent... until my mouth can give you some Lovin'. (:P) Your end is nigh! Soon to be mine... I devour you with greed! Only there's one important caveat: new pants, I soon, will need. Damn you cupcake.

Running Through the Rain The absolution, cleanliness. The dew upon your skin. The feelings that come through happenstance: while running through the rain. "Oh, it's too cold to be out here!" "Oh, it's too hot from being dry." "Oh, it's too wet let's hide inside!" "Oh, it's too bad: it passed us by." Dripping         on           a            late                Spring                      night,                            t h e w i n d s t h e y c o m e t o c a l l. Dripping on a Summer night, the water's welcome! Let it f a l l. A little bit of romance, A little bit of bliss. A wanderer and beloved, Sharing in a kiss.         w

Misperception Lingers "Hi there." "Hm? What's up?" "I'm curious: what do you think of me?" "I think you're alright. I can't say anything bad about you. Why do you ask?" "I...see...No reason. I was just thinking about something." "Oh. Well, that's vague." "Hah. Yeah, it is... So, whatcha doing later?" "Oh, nothing much. I'm just going to go home after work, probably do nothing exciting: internet, studying, chatting. It's just an average day really." "Ah...well that's boring." "It sure is." "Anyways, I'd like to see if...what I mean is... if you aren't that busy would you like to..." *Bzzt* "Ah, hell. I've got to get going. Looks l

The lowest common denominator rises out of the least common multiple. The denouement: a pale rejoice of the final climax. Among the masses, the collective unconscious throws forth, zombie eyed. There! We widdle out a meager stalling. Where? We brace ourselves amidst flailed falling. Snared. Again we come up to the calling. To the calling, ever more. To the calling, we all adore!! To the calling, what's it for?!?! To the calling, OF OUR STORE!

Artifice and reality, a dream within a dream. The truth is Always out there, and stranger than it seems. I sit and wonder daily, what happens to the craft? What happens when it stagnates? Do we just sooner become daft? The simple joy of ponder, its strange, alluring ruse. I need another reason now: I need another muse. Please give me a humble, fleeting wish: a mind to have its say; to wake from the ground renewed: revitalized on this day.

"This here was a lottery ticket signed by George Washington!" "If this is really something signed by George Washington, I want it. But why would he want to be associated with the lottery back then when it was usually rigged. I'm going to have to call in an expert to see if this is the real deal." I hear my alarm, it's now 5:10a, and the TV just kicked on. Why? What could possible be that entertaining? Oh right. Pawn Stars. The noise echoes through the halls as I stumble down the stairs and clank the metal gate to enter the room. A freshly accrued pile of drool escapes my father's mouth as he stares into the screen. It's too early for anythi

The look my parents give as I say I did nothing on my walks. The feel--piercing--of the blistering sun as I walked, mindless rhythms droning as my hips soaked in sweat. The Sight--the wondrous sight. Fleeing an inch away from a cataclysmic scene as the street vomited urchins to clean itself of the foul blood. It has no replacement now. As I sit on this careless slab of stone, the echoes and nuances of memories revivify in and out, playing backwards. The feel of my first stolen kiss, the suppleness of the lips, in the garage on Dix Ave. in the summer's heat. The echo of my body hitting the pavement as I lie motionless before tears. My blo