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Literature Text
A row of wood;
that's what we all are, Buddha.
I have no time to let the termites and binds
slip inside what fuels the fire of my mind.
Hence, my red shoes
but you are worth the camera because I'm not even news.
That's just what we are, Buddha;
we're just here to kiss a fragment of the electric eclectic.
Secret language is all we know, you see,
but we can't write the message on paper
because we don't know how to spell "free"
and the verb tenses of the code are subtle fronts
to hide what we truly want.
Macbeth, you're not hallucinating.
The blood's on your hands
but you can't get it off cause you know what/when you should have said
and now you have languages floating around you
as they do in a child's head.
Heroin.
I can feel the hero in and the victim out.
Mosquito tico empire wobbling the centro american wires,
acidic computers,
sing to me, unfamiliar losers.
Elephants and cola
make dialating shade
slice like a blade.
The desire in my soul
is worth more than your "control."
The love in my eyes
will be the fire in my mind
as I die.
My human tendencies
make me no less a man,
so why do you hate me Buddha?
Why am I the scam?
that's what we all are, Buddha.
I have no time to let the termites and binds
slip inside what fuels the fire of my mind.
Hence, my red shoes
but you are worth the camera because I'm not even news.
That's just what we are, Buddha;
we're just here to kiss a fragment of the electric eclectic.
Secret language is all we know, you see,
but we can't write the message on paper
because we don't know how to spell "free"
and the verb tenses of the code are subtle fronts
to hide what we truly want.
Macbeth, you're not hallucinating.
The blood's on your hands
but you can't get it off cause you know what/when you should have said
and now you have languages floating around you
as they do in a child's head.
Heroin.
I can feel the hero in and the victim out.
Mosquito tico empire wobbling the centro american wires,
acidic computers,
sing to me, unfamiliar losers.
Elephants and cola
make dialating shade
slice like a blade.
The desire in my soul
is worth more than your "control."
The love in my eyes
will be the fire in my mind
as I die.
My human tendencies
make me no less a man,
so why do you hate me Buddha?
Why am I the scam?
Literature
Memoria in aeterna
To say that Cassandra was an influence on my life, is like saying the ocean is big. Such simple words cannot convey the vastness, the complexities, and the intricacies of who she was to me.
She was so large a part of my life, that with the naivety of the young, I assumed she would forever be there. She was an unchanging force from my childhood, a rock through my youth, and a friend in my adulthood. It still seems hard to fathom that she is gone.
I want to tell you who she was to me:
She was my inspiration. I remember watching her draw, and swallowing up every pencil stroke. I'd ask questions, and she'd slowly go over lines, telling me the
Literature
I think of you..
I think of you when I'm walking
and what it's like to walk next to you.
I think of you when I put money in the til,
and with every song on the radio or
every customer that buys milk or V.
I think of you with every word I write.
I think of you every time I look at my phone,
or Christmas decorations
or the Kinder Surprises in the fridge.
I think of you every time someone asks about the number on my hand
or just when I see my hands,
remembering how yours feel in them.
I think of you when I write in permanent marker
and how they make you dizzy.
I think of you when I kneel down to rest my legs,
I think of all the scars on your knees
Literature
Some Thing Like A Love Song
some thing like a love song by:julie terryberry 2013
the world has to many get you togethers and we all love some one else betters the kisses the touches the drinks and the smack we all need to just take a step back
"now im thinking some thing like a love song some thing some thing i love you some thing some thing i love you too, no ones perfect in this world im never gunna be most beautiful girl but you'll love me any ways till we both rot away"
lets drink at a bar hang with are friends play secret romance nah lets fuck in the den caress me make me moan don't touch the telephone every body likes my hide but you still stand by my side
" w
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Ashes to Ashes... that's what we are. So, why can human desire itself be evil, Buddha? Why is what makes the drive to live exist a limitation? I don't think I'll ever understand Buddhism. Why is our very nature the anti-thesis to our joy?
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