you know, if pigs could fly, i would eat them.


another untitled poem.i sit with my skullanother untitled poem.
split open
and my fingers
starving for meaning as archaic hymns
of poets and rogues slip from the tips
like sailors from seas and fly the flag of my despair in the crimson sky.


not sure what to call it.so go ahead and sprinklenot sure what to call it.
the cosmic dust of your oblivion onto my brow and watch it raise in a sneer
of comfortable acceptance.
breathe your apathy
into my lungs with
the sweet cinders of
forbidden romance
split my skin and pry me open,
spilling your thoughts into
my macabre chasm as you
pretend to love me.


morning breezemorning breeze.morning breeze
the stale crunch of autumn's first casualties resounds under my footsteps and a cool inviting breeze
kisses my reddened cheek. my head hung low in defeat, i walk from your door to my car,
knowing that i will never make
this walk again.
the gallant morning sun attacks the last remaining drops
of evening dew
and glistens their corpses
into my windshield. i look up and realize that my rearview mirror is a camera shooting the movie
of the places ive been. but the actors have too much pr
And me too.
How was the Jackson's Java extravaganza?
--
*Hug a speedbump. Do it for Hannah.*
like Tiny Tim.
well, I bet you aren't tiny... or are you?!
--
*Hug a speedbump. Do it for Hannah.*
--
--
who are you to wave your finger,
you must have been out your head
--
> need help
> useful links
take care
love lucia x x
--
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