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SheSaid/HeStares
Mar 23rd, 2007 by scaredpoet

She’s posting all the time,
but the boards are down; like a burnt-down building.
He spends all of his time
on his back, staring at the ceiling.

They spend themselves that way,
and I’m with That, I’m with them
but you’re not. You are alive.
Damnit.

  • * * *

She just ignores the time
that the boards came down; it’s a burned-out feeling.
He just accepts the pain
with a hate mantra; a spiritual killing.

They just relax that way,
and I’m with That, I’m with them
but you’re not. You’re still alive.
Damnit.

Gnawing at the prey, I think about you some;
Where to put you?
All that backed up data for a raining day.

Insulate a fragile mind,
Capsulize your broken find.
“Don’t do this man,”
There’s another one behind,
Breaking down the door without warning.

I get the same result,
We all get the same effect.

Can’t go through this now;
I’m leaving a message
Stapled on your head.

Angels say
Jan 5th, 2006 by scaredpoet

I’m mapping out my ending,

It’s never gonna happen now

These things are condescending

With everybody backing down.

You pray to angels that they can help you get by,
And all at once you forget to try…

I’d go there if you let me;
They’re never gonna find me now.
My life is always empty,
and in and out of doubt.

But you’re not coming back for me, these things they will never be,
I’m so used to being wrong, so put me where I belong.

I get back to you,
God knows I try,
But I still lose
And I get back to you;
These days run by,
But I still lose.

Angels say they can make you suffer,
They give and take like a vicious lover.

When all this loses meaning,
You’ll never want it back somehow.
Awake but still I’m dreaming;
And never waking up
Alone…Where I’m not alone.

Your not coming back for me, these things they will never be,
I’m so used to being wrong, so put me where I belong.

I get back to you,
God knows I try,
But I still lose
And I get back to you,
These days run by,
But I still lose…

A.F.K
Sep 2nd, 2005 by scaredpoet

odometer
No one uses the phone anymore.
The tracks are wrecked and the odometer’s ticking.
The edge is pushed and the lines are melting.
Too scared to look at what I hear outside.
Release,Protect. Embrace, Engulf.
Remember the summer.
Protect. Enslave. In love.

Read the rest of this entry »
Hands
Oct 24th, 2004 by scaredpoet

hands

You're in deep right now
And were bound to fall in and get stuck anyway.
You've seen it coming all along.

It seemed inevitable - that's why you kept denying
Who you are for so long;
Admitting causes you to fall in.

Perhaps you've been Down all along.
And this explains why you've never
Really gone home.

The point is you're there,
And you're alone,
And the people who matter are in holes themselves
Looking up;
Searching for hands to grab onto,
The way you search for hands right now.

So you blindly crawl, searching,
Constantly searching;
Groping,
Constantly groping -
Not necessarily for hands
Since you've convinced yourself
That Down isn't such a bad place to be.

Before, you were looking for importance,
Something to immerse yourself in.
Passion is your motto,
And Down is devoid of passion.
But something went wrong along the way;
You see,
You're not supposed to know you've fallen in.

But you admitted
And you faced your demons
And you were enlightened
And now you're restless
And you can't do anything about it.
All that's left is searching for hands,
Because they're the easiest thing to focus on.

You've yearned for hands for so long,
And hands you still have not grasped.
You're far too young to be Down,
But don't despair.
Just remember,
That you can only be Down for so long.
One day the passion you are full of will have an outlet.

One day, hands will bring you Up,
And Up you'll stay.
Those hands won't let go.

Your knowledge doesn't have to be a curse.
Remember that all around you are cracks,
And people fall Down all the time.

But they all get Up,
And they all get Up smiling.
Realize this and you will be galvanized the next time you are Down.

And next time, you won't have to be Up to smile. 
The Lady Who Lived by the Lights
Jul 27th, 2004 by scaredpoet

On the cold winter evenings when the day has washed away my restraint
When the streets call and I have to answer
When my mind's forgiveness is eased by the cool of the night
I find myself walking by the house
of the lady who lived by the lights.
Read the rest of this entry »

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