Poll: adaw
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View poll results: adaw
5 83%
1 17%
0 0%
Voters: 6.
---It's Been 9 Months, and Counting---
by: kdownes

I've been hiding under a pillow of conscience
for the past few days, trying to mute
the bends and breaks that wander in
from across the parkway,
all the while wishing that she didn't sound
so damn satisfied.
She could cut the tension with a kiss goodnight
and a foreign taste on her lips,
but instead just tells me
she might give me a try
some other time,
as she turns over
and turns out the lights.

Laying there,
I realize that I've left the radio on downstairs,
stuck on a station that doesn't quite come in.
I walk down about half way,
stop and relate...
My girl is like this station;
the man across the street is her Beach Boys,
and I'm the static in between.
That's why she never hears the music when she's with me.

I finish making my way downstairs,
turn the radio off and curl up in a chair.
Now I know too much.
Now my pillow isn't there.

by bassbeat

A bald angel
washed ashore today
with a gaping wound
on its left thigh.

I left my lifeguard post
to rush down the ladder
and trip over stones and sand
to come by its side.

I took gauze and cloth
and cut a perfect square
out of rudimentary pairs
of matching steel

and worked one by one
(always watching my watch)
with the cloth and the alcohol,
making sure to cover every hole,

making sure to hide every red mark,
until everything became
faded brown stains
on useless drenched overalls.

As I sat down to
admire my work,
I realized I had bandaged
the wrong wound.

I watched its insides trickle out all over the sand.

by LacesOutDanny

I am a broom handle.
I churn through the city's decay
like a barren overlord.
This castle has eaten my shoes and
painted blisters on my soles but I float
high above it all like wires, and like knives
I carve out a contest to my rule.
Through emtpy streets I act out ghosts and
run like scissors through flesh, sluggish against
the broken night.

My power animal is a statuette of Jesus
and he grins like a beggar, just one more blind
junkie-come-saint and sheriff of this here town.
I'll break myself for profit and to once more
taste blood and bones like reality's herald.

Mama would be proud, and Father
well, Father wouldn't know any better.
At the crossroads of two straight lines,
I'm the curve that ask you;
"how long until the lie becomes truth?"
Wow, so that's what my work would look like if I had talent If I wasn't in this, I'd be voting red.
Red is great.

That shade of green is annoying, by the way. I would suggest a color change. It burned my retina, and the words are floating around in my field of vision now. Way to go.
Today I feel electric grey
I hope tomorrow, neon black