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Personal Conflict
Being human our perception towards change is often one of excitement & hope; but alas we are also innately habitual.
The silent voice in my head
I hate the quiet. The quiet is loud; it resonates the many voices living in my head.
on life
If growing up means giving up childish ways; forever a child then I will remain!
on love
Do you think I would let something as dull, as you trying to kill me stop me from loving you?
Satiety (Sa*ti"e*ty)
The state of being satiated or glutted; fullness of gratification, either of the appetite or of any sensual desire; fullness beyond desire; an excess of gratification which excites wearisomeness or loathing; repletion; satiation. "In all pleasures there is satiety." Hakewill. "But thy words, with grace divine Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety." Milton. Synonyms -- Repletion; satiation; surfeit; cloyment.
Man
The uniqueness of the human spirit lies in our ability to heal. And a mended spirit often soars beyond the reach of a spirit untouched.
Life
We all need to express ourselves. Even when there is no one around.
fight for me
Tuesday. 5.6.08 11:01 am
I see you, though you are not by my side.
I watch you, from a distance but all the same I�m watching.
I still inhale the physical senses that form the memories of you.
I see them vividly when I sit by myself.
I wanted to stand by you forever; but perhaps we needed to walk our own paths to grow.
I love you. From the first time I saw you; watched you.
I love you. Even now that you are no longer mine.
I love you.

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the blowers daughter...
Tuesday. 1.29.08 9:33 pm
It wasn�t fair of me, but I loved you.
I see you around me still, not often but when I do� I see you.
I understand your need to stand, but you always stood tall even when you didn�t know it.
There was always so much you did� that you do� that moves me.
I see you growing� changing� living.
You were never the journey you were the destination.
It wasn�t fair of me, but I loved you.

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Broken
Wednesday. 11.7.07 3:02 am


The pitter patter on the glass suggests the kind of day, poetic really in its portrayal of my mood.
Days to weeks then months, but still consciousness each day begins with you.
All around me roam suggestions of your form, hints of your smell, whispers of your voice and the lingering of your words.
I dress in a daze; sip coffee in a trance.
But as I step out of my space into the world, I put on the smile and hide behind the lies that everyone wants to hear.

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Jane
Wednesday. 9.26.07 3:07 am
Faded walls in a musty room, it's 12pm yet no light shine through.
You lie there naked in a cold bed.
The sheets are damp, the springs are dead.
You toy with thoughts of suicide as you sip on jack and puff on lights.
You think of all that's let you down, your hopes and dreams are dead for now.
You hold a gun, that's all you do.
You may hate your life but you're a coward too.
You think of him, but he not of you.
You ask, "What's the fucks wrong with me?"� But you know don't you?



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Perhaps
Monday. 7.16.07 6:39 am
What if all you say is true?
What if this is all I am, long for and need to be?
But you! You base me on a poem, one poem, a single perspective.
Is that all I am? Am I that simple?
But as you read do you see? And even if you do, do you see what I see?
Perhaps this is what drives me.
Perhaps all this is my making; perhaps all that left I pushed away, all that teared I made cry, and all that died I killed.
None of this is real though some of it is.
Take all of it but take none of it.
It's just the way it is.
I am the poem but not just that poem.

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The seductress and the Mime
Thursday. 5.17.07 11:37 pm


The facade of a friendship you left for him, as you nonchalantly leave.
You feel his eyes on you, yet you walk as if reprieved.
Vividly aware of his contempt for you, yet you manage to smile inside.
You tell yourself "he is a stronger man now" that you've passed him in your stride.
But he will haunt you; your thoughts, dreams, just give it time.
You may be the seductress but he is much more than just the mime.

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