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CodeineYou wrap me in your warm embrace
As snowflakes drift across my face
You've seen my past, now toss it away
To let you ease my pain, you say
Above I see the distant shore
I came from there, once before
Now I fear to feel that light
Away in shadow, you bind me tight
And though the world may toss and turn
In your arms it all can burn
I walk the worn paths of this labyrinth again
I'm all alone, but for you, my friend
The fire once was all I knew
Now I give myself to you
Lost until you brought to dreams
My love, my sweet, my dear
CloudsGuess I should have known
We couldn't be children forever
Soon we have to grow old
And become one with the world
Still, sometimes I wonder why it is
You've always taken the highway
While I've taken the scenic route
You say it doesn't matter
But day by day this rift grows bigger
I know you lie to me
When you say we're not growing further apart
I once believed I would sore above you
But that was before the sun melted my wings
Leaving me to crawl
And look back at what I used to be
We crossed paths once
But that time is behind us
Now I watch you walk those hills I could never climb
You don't have to look back, nor do I expect you to
My days are spent wishing on clouds like we did when we were young
I don't know how
But I hope we'll get to the same place someday
The Fresh Assassin of ItalyNow, this is the story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute
Sit down, signore
I'll tell you how I became an assassin in the fifteenth century
In northwest Italia born and raised
On the rooftops was where I spent most of my days
Hanging out, brawling, running errands for the head
Then picking belle donne to take back to the bed
When a couple of bastardi who were up to no good
Started making trouble in my neighbourhood
They killed my father and brothers and then came for me
And I said, "Claudia, take mother, we leave for Monteriggioni!"
We went to my Uncle's where I soon understood
That my family were assassins, fighting for the greater good
If anything I can say it's hard to be me
But I thought "For my family I'll kill those templar bastards for free!"
I took back the apple fighting seven or eight
And I yelled to the spaniard 'Requiescat in Pace'
I looked in The Vault
I was finally free
To be the best assassin of Renaissance Italy
Body and SpiritIs it two or is it one?
I asked the looking glass
You are a body
A body knows naught
Of the intricate network
Both good and evil
Existing since days of Eden
But what am I
If not a body?
It is a part of me
We cannot live without recognition
Putting up pictures - in memorium
Body and spirit
Spiritus et corpore
A symbiotic relationship all mankind shares
Written from the clay which Father made us
So caught away looking in mirrors
Only near the end do I ask
Is it one or is it two?
Of Vampires and Death EatersIt was a dark, stormy night at the Malfoy Manor. Voldemort was drumming his fingers on the long, wooden table surveying his Death Eaters with a slightly bored expression etched upon his face. "You know why I have brought you all here today, I presume?" he asked in his chilling, snake-like voice.
"Because we're the only house you can hold these meetings in?" Draco replied dryly. Several heads of death eater's turned in his direction. Lucius shot him a dirty look.
"What?" Draco said, widening his eyes, "Snape has a house too, why can't we go to his for a change? Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to keep the house clean when all the death eaters and snatchers keep on tracking blood and dirt around the carpet? They could at least clean themselves up a little first considering we don't have a house elf."
"Enough, Draco!" his father said, giving his son a sharp slap on the face. Although he had to admit, those snatchers were proving to be quite a handful as of late. Fenrir espe
PurgeIf memory could be silenced
And I could just forget
I'd feel within
No deep chagrin
No actions I regret
I wouldn't have these scars now
No sense of what was true
There'd be no tears
No lonely years
There'd be no missing you
And each night before I fall asleep
I wouldn't feel this ache
I wouldn't wish to turn back time
And then just stay awake
My dreams would be without meaning
For you I wouldn't see
There'd be no haunt
I'd feel no want
Empty and yet free
I'd go about my business
No fears of seeing you
I'd go out more
Or just explore
Or try out something new
And there would be no ponderings
No stories with no ends
Have you moved on
Where you have gone?
Or are you just like me?
If memory could be silenced
And I could just forget
I'd feel within
No deep chagrin
No actions I regret
Yes, that would be a blessing
I know I would be free
But somehow I know
That I can't let go
Without you there's no me
Driver's LicenseWhen you were taking the bus
I was getting lifts from my parents
All those talks about bus routes, bus tickets
A foreign language to me
The bus terminal was a scary place
Filled with rapists, robbers and child molesters
Better to be safe, with people you could count on
And so I just got in the car and let my parents take me home
When you first got your driver's license
I was finding pleasure in misery
Having mental conversations with myself
Thinking about life, about the past
Why I was so unhappy
Finding the songs on my iPod that would best express my loneliness
I thought I understood more about the world than you ever would.
When you passed your first driving test I was taking the bus for once
I memorized the bus routes between the waits
It became something of a science to me.
The traffic of people moving in and out of the bus
The different faces
I saw parts of the city I'd never seen before
Learned the names of streets and places
Which routes were the worst
Which routes were the best
Sketching of a Train PlatformThe train dings, men in neon vests and white construction hats move back and forth across the rails. There is sputtering and a roaring of engines as the black freight car goes into reverse, and then its sound becomes distinctly fainter as it makes its way to the other side of platform three. It will be back, probably in another half-hour to repeat the motion.
A young father walks with their toddler down this side of the platform to show them the place where the trains come from. I briefly see my younger self in the two of them, the times I'd come here with my parents to go to the summer festivals or Christmas parades. Back then, the platforms seemed so much bigger, so much more confusing. Now I sit here alone. I was here last summer for summer school; I know the area well enough to know how to get here and to get home by myself. I know the numbers of all the bus routes from the terminal below me, I know where my high school is from here, and I know where my friends' houses are too. I s
I live in the city, across from the historical museum on Rouse and Donnell Street. My campus looks like Hogwarts, so apart from the occasional dog walker or suitcase-man using the quad to get to Richman Street, or the stream of cars at trying to get into Donnell at rush hour, one can almost forget that they're living on an island in the middle of a big city. It's an enlightening part of my day actually, seeing these little pieces of the town. They remind me that what I'm living in is really nothing but a small piece of a much bigger, and intricate world. I don't know why, but I like the idea of knowing I'm not so far away from the real world. It comforts me, anyway.
My issue is, the people here seem to forget the whole 'real-world' versus 'university-world' concept. All anyone at Torrence Hall is interested in is starting deep philosophical debates or complaining about chemistry midterms; being a university I guess this is normal, but at the same time they don't seem to see the bigger
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
OdysseyYears and years staring at black on white
It is your refuge
From the chaotic storm
Then one day the hands come out
A missing name on a list
Dear Sir or Madam:
You cannot live in these walls anymore
That world was never meant for you
That world was never meant for you
Try again and again
It's all the same
The smiles grow bigger
You blame only yourself
So you tear it all down and face the tempest
Sailing blind across high seas
Sirens call out
And you turn away
I belong here now
I belong here
But when that wind ceases
In a moment of peace
A curtain lifts
And you see it again
The bow is in hand
And you let yourself play
Just to keep the blood flowing
Keep in Touch!