[x]

Obsessive Compulsive1,2,3-1,2,3
Count and repeat.
1,2,3-1,2,3
You can't forget,
or you'll go insane.
Is the door locked?
Do I have my keys?
Is the stove turned off?
Yes! Yes! Yes!

1,2,3-1,2,3
Count and repeat.
1,2,3-1,2,3
Don't screw up,
or you'll have to start again.
Is this clean?
Did I wash my hands?
Is this food okay to eat?
Yes! Yes! Yes!

1,2,3-1,2,3
Count and repeat.
1,2,3-1,2,3
Never miss one,
or you'll feel pain.
I touched that with this finger,
did I remember to touch it with the other?
Ouch! I cut my hand.
Ouch! I need them to be the same.

1,2,3-1,2,3
Count and repeat.
1,2,3-1,2,3
Make sure to go in order,
or you won't be

SBFFLFEFor all of your love,
And all of your smiles,
You still are sad.
For all of our secrets,
And inside jokes,
You still don't trust me.
For all of those who love you,
And the amazingness you are,
You still aren't happy.
So would one day,
Just one,
Be so much to ask?
For you to be happy,
And just relax?
Stop being tense,
And just loosen up.
Drain your drink,
Then refill the cup.
Fall into my arms,
Happy and content,
Just let go of your sadness.
Let it relent.
You aren't alone,
I promise you.
Whatever it is,
I can help you through.
So at the end of the day,
When you lie in bed,
And thoughts like suicide
Run t

procellous distance.I hate texting.

I hate those monosyllable replies; I hate the long drawn out conversations. I hate the cold, metal voice I use in my head to read messages that should be said with feeling, emotion, joy. I hate waiting; I hate waiting for a "yes" or a "no" or an "I love you." I hate it when a message doesn't come, when all you want is a sign that the person you're thinking of is thinking of you as well.

More than anything, however, I hate how somehow a text becomes a replacement for your arms; for the feeling of your breath on my neck, your hands in my hair, the whisper of a smile against my skin. I want your voice sleepily wishing me goodni

Life's Tales.I want to write a book
full of Life's Tales.
About the meaning of it all
the truth we stole
and buried beneath our feet.

Just to speak of redemption
through the pain.
In every step there's
wisdom to gain.
And for all that I'll ever be,
the search will always be
the key.

Monday, I hate youOh dear Monday, I despise you so much
There's no words as to how I can describe you as such.
Oh dear Monday, how we could've been friends,
if you hadn't ended my precious weekends.

I believe in MeI used to say I believe in miracles
but there was lot of doubts.
How is it possible to achieve,
if I don't try!

They said I'm good at this
but I have no support.
Am I strong enough
To be compared, to be rough.

I showed my love,
my believes,
all my possibilities.
I gave myself to you,
I'll make it truth.
I used to hope,
but now I do!

Life is not all about talents and tales
raising stars and prays.
But hard work and practice
show how possible it's to make it.

Just live your life,
don't look behind.
If you fall down,
get up,
don't give up!
Cause I gave myself to you,
I'll make it truth.

As long you living your dream
a

Writer's BlockIn the beginning, there was nothing.
A blank space. A void.
I sit quietly at a plain desk,
pencil propped up drunkenly with two tired fingers,
unable to let my language flow like electricity
through it, to my fingertips, and onto the expanse
of recorded time, of a sheet, of a book, of stress relieved.
I begin to pray to any Muse or god
in grumbles of frustration
for a spark, an idea, a beginning.
Eventually, images begin to pop up out of the walls surrounding me,
after I have truly comprehended the meaning of "staring into space;"
but before they can melt into my forehead
like a drop of water in a pool, silently shooting the wate

In Terms of TimeSadly, I used to think the same.
In terms of time.
Until I realized that time isn't human.
It exists outside of us.
Merely a measurement to quantify the passing of the sun.
Like an inch,
Which means nothing to anything.
It's an illusion.
Tell me,
How much time should I use?
An inch?
A mile?
A fucking kiloton?
If I could move at the speed of light,
Would you justify my rapidity?
Let me off easy?
But didn't you listen to Einstein, darling?
It's all relative.
I used to think like you.
And then I fit 60 years into 1 year, 6 months and 10 days.
Ask me about time,
And I'll prove to you
That it moves just as fast,
Just as slow

Undead LoveIt's late in the night.
It's late in the song.
It's late...

Too late.
Why are you here?
How can you be here?
You aren't here.

You're dead.

You're dead and gone.
You're supposed to be...
at least.
For years now.
Deep in the graveyard of my mind,
shrouded in the Scottish
mists of hopeless forgetting.

Yet like the summoning
trick of a sorceress...
one thought of vanilla or strawberries,
long chocolate hair,
words beating with the pulse
of an ever loving heart...

And you rise again.
You undead beauty...
you undead love.
You rise, you make me dizzy,
you make me happy,
you make me crazy...

Am I mad?

You're dead. Dead a

What Goes On Inside My HeadWhat goes on inside my head?
Its like an explosion sometimes,
Big, loud, and hurtful.
Its like a rainbow sometimes,
Full of wonder and excitment.
Its like philosophy sometimes,
Always something, always somewhere, always theorizing.
What goes on inside my head?
Sometimes thoughts not so nice.
Sometimes thoughts from daydreams.
Sometimes nothing at all.
I know but don't know what goes on inside my head.
My head in itself is a paradox,
Logical but illogical at the same time.
What goes on inside my head?
Well only time will know and keep its secrets,
For even I do not fully understand.

"Love" LiesThey say when you love something you let it go
And if it comes back then its meant to be
But to me that is just a lie

Lie, its all a lie
What do you think of love
when you can't let them go, oh
What do you think of love
When its long gone and out of the show

He loves me, he loves me not
Don't forget the flowers, the forget-me-nots
Oh sweet boy I hope you remember
My heart is not a toy

Lie, love is just a lie
What do you think of love
when you can't let them go, oh
What do you think of love
When its long gone and out of the show

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Love is the sweetest thing
That could ever hurt you

Love lies, l

AlwaysSimple words.
I
Love
You.
Not so simple
to say.

Guys say it,
everyday,
for one thing.
Girls say it,
everyday,
and get played.
Like some guitar
by a musician.

I always told myself,
don't be that guitar.
You're not going to fall
for that stupid trick.

Well,
I did.
But it wasn't
a trick.
I know that.

You said,
I
Love
You,
I said
it back.

I meant it.
I know you do
too.

I won't ever leave
you.
I will always love
you.

For You

To a young girl with her glasses
And her hair blowing back in the wind
Looking away in front of a flag pole of her school

To a middle school girl trying to adjust to a move
And learning that she belongs there
Discovering more about herself every day

To a freshman girl walking onto the courts
And looking at the nets
Determined to prove herself in a sport she loves

To a senior girl with her new contacts
And the brightest smile in the town
Working and enjoying her final year of high school

To a graduate girl in a white gown
And her diploma in hand
Knowing she has worked hard to walk across the stage

To a college girl in a small college tow

I WantI want to be able to scream,
I want to be able to talk,
But whenever I voice my opinions,
They’re left so deep in the dark.

I want to be able to cry,
I want to be able to smile,
But I only can in desperation,
So I’ll fake my emotions for a while.

I want to be able to stand,
I want to be able to laugh,
But whenever I manage to catch it,
It fades away from my grasp.

I want to be able to tell you,
But it’s harder than I first might have thought,
Because from my past experience,
I only became more distraught.

I want it to stop being complicated,
So for once, I can sit down and explain,
But for now I’ll just have to sti

Grabbing CourageCourage is a delicate thing;
a Gentle thing.

It floats through Sky's breeze,
Tarnished by the clouds:
A feather,
Wandering through endless air.

High, high, high it goes:
Much too far away for any of us to reach,
Yet right above us.

A plume,
We see it dance under the rotting trees' branches.

Try to grab it,
Hurry yourself! it shall never last.

It sounds a simple trick --
Grab a feather from its flight,
Careful, however! 'tis fragile as a bone,
And you must not crush it.
For then,

What would one do

With a numb fistful

Of broken strength?

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A Penny For The FerrymanA penny for the ferryman
a well known phrase, now too well known
In modern times, he's more jolly than
before when his name was never thrown
into everyday conversation
now each day, another penny
his job should be taken with consideration
every death, one amongst many
the ferryman who tows the dead
drives the souls, ferry's the lost
a single penny on your head
more dead, at what cost?
A penny for the ferryman
shouldn't he accept visa to
the situation is much dire than
in times when death came through
in drips and pools
In modern times, more is required
he's getting greedy you fools
More dead, more money he cannot be fired

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Submitted: January 24, 2012
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And You Leave.

by ~DeadRedMoon, Jan 24, 2012, 3:55:17 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Traditional Fixed Forms

So now your out of reach again,
like you were years before
and I feel this familiar pain.
I'm left wanting more.
So forgive me for being pessimistic
But can we do this?
Am I being realistic?
Is it too much to ask for? A kiss?
And suddenly 300 miles is too much
And your presence wasn't enough
My body is still waiting for your touch
not accepting that love is rough.
But this is worth waiting for, I know that
Compare this to when we meet.
I sit and picture where you sat
and again my heart begins to beat.
Because yes, 2 months is time
And yes 300 miles is distance.
But you are mine.
And you give meaning to my existence.