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Well, still not much to say. I'll try to think of something clever, but don't hold you breath. Heck, I don't even know who looks at this, so I'm not sure if I have anyone to impress......not that I really care.

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Appetizer My heart bleeds And it breaks And it shakes with earthquakes And it’s all I can do to survive Why do you keep feeding me lies? Laureate I have resigned myself to the fact that this thing I have done I will continue to do Despite my distaste for it’s label and classification And that despite being depressed by it (not that the depression hasn’t been a benefit) My skill at this function has grown and spread into a talent And I regret that this is the place I find success But my mouth is open and this is the honey that drips So if this is to be the one place that I find a finish line: At least I can know I finished well. To Say the Least My harshness has not been mellowed with my coming of age But rather turned to a glass-shattering note, bleeding through the yellowed pages of my history book. I remain a wretched person. Aspirations I meant to write a poem about the first night a city turned on its electric street lamps. I didn’t find the time. What I Wish I’d Told a Goth “There...
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she will dance for you in this fairy tale hidden from the world hiding to the bone hanging by the throat bleeding from her eyes swallowed by the pride of another dying from the shame burning on her feet buried in the wind a flash of red a dash of spark locked eyes fascination and pain swaying hips captivated thoughts the beat she hears the beat you feel fire flickering between you so far away dancing alone ethereal skin bite your lip taste your tongue unfocused eyes elbows on knees head in hands sleeping while you're awake only way to dream slow it down one movement per lifetime puppet on its strings cut from her home left all alone shattered against the ground tears sting trace the lines of her face can't fake a smile can't bear to frown floating on the waves floating on her feet letters traced in air sewing lines that aren't there mark these words on her grave breaking free from the earth feet scatter dust as she dances alone
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