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1 17%
5 83%
Voters: 6.
Vote for the best PAIR of poems.

It's Time

Widening eyes and yawning, blinks,
steps cold foot to floor, slow,
hands drop to rumpled sheet and fold,
all effort for effortless look, smooth,
move on and lazily flap in frosty waters,
like a knife at the neck, hair stands,
dries, falls fat on a wrinkled forehead;

worrying, pit of sick-bag pulsing,
clock watching morning flying
out the window to a heavy air
and dry rasp of tongue.

portrait of a mirror

we stand as the sky falls down, and although it is
pissing shades of grey, blue, and red, we find fault
in nothing but the sun. and when we can’t stand
any longer we lay amongst the bodies, buildings
and final breaths like the angels we shoot down
so often. we match each falling drop with a crocodile
tear, knife-edge fingers cut circles over every eye
and strip each heart of a beat. then the ground
opens up, and we death-roll through layers of our
own bull****, into a place that doesn’t exist except
for in our own manufactured nightmares. here we
dance in our own wretchedness, play russian roulette
with blame and nail ourselves to makeshift crosses
over broken mirrors and upturned ladders. we peel
our faces off and drop names, we sew our mouths
shut and carve sins into each others flesh, and then
we shed our skins and **** each other until we are
drenched in blood. now we wake up with tattoos on
our eyelids, like the psychological imprints left on a
visionary. maybe if we weren’t blinded by our
own egos we’d stop to try and figure out the
meaning of it all, but we won’t, we never will.


Suspended by a docile thread and
thrust within the bounds of bad
memories, we are motionless, yet
our fluid story retells the dying
of our innocence. Captivated by
misery, these concave walls offer
cold hands to hold. Yet I'm still
waiting for my man. He is a Saturnist
who holds his glass half-empty, an
advocate of sacrifice and sorrow. I
dissolved in the icy chill of a Western
wind, always hoping for serenity to sooth
this boundless hate. Only our shadows
record every cacophonous movement,
the backdrop of our bartering, every
haunting breath, frigid and enticing
to taste, and every pitiful attempt
at peace with one another.


I had always
wanted to fly.
So I folded
my arms into
paper airplanes,
certain that
it would be
the easiest way.

I climbed
until I stood
atop my ego
since it was
by far
the tallest
in sight.

And just
as I began
to reconsider,
I was pushed
over the edge
by two hands
and no heart.

I like to think
that it was
nothing more
than curiosity
getting the
better of her.
this was really hard to decide. like really. I'm going red. the second pieces of both were great but the red was just so well put together. hell, i didnt even get bothered by the fact i could see where it was going. well written pieces all around.