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Life Before Death and CandyLife Before Death and Candy
People say, I believe in love,
But what does that mean, honestly?
Youre an idiot to deny its existence,
People act like fools over it
Committing suicide, and writing ballads,
And doing embarrassing and undignified
Things, like starting wars
And calling each other Muffin.
Perhaps its no more than candy hearts and girlie magazines,
And ugly stuffed gorillas
Which mysteriously appear every February, languishing
Away in discount bins until the snow finally melts.
Or maybe just the parts in movies
That youre always too embarrassed not to watch.
Perhaps its being intoxicated
By the salty taste of your popcorn-tinged lips
As we kiss
- goodbye goodbye goodbye-
Perhaps its no more than tolerating
Your awful morning breath every morning,
And how I watch your sleeping face
As the hair turns silver and the lines around your mouth get deeper
And it finally falls asleep
For the last time.
Ways To Say GoodbyeWays to Say Goodbye
There are so many ways to say
Goodbye. Some ways, like the computer,
Are so impersonal because you cannot see or even hear
Greif. Some ways hide.
There are so many
Ways to say goodbye. Like the soldiers
Girl at the airport. Embracing her hero-lover
In front of the media. I think that everybody
Secretly loves a tragedy.
So many ways to say goodbye
The phone is an option.
Youll remember that conversation by
The heavy weight in your heart
And the white salty residue on your receiver.
There are so
Many ways to say goodbye.
There is the white-paste face
Of the fondly-remembered dead:
A goodbye you must say
Even if no one will hear you.
There are so many ways to say goodbye.
Like on the front porch of you house
Where the mucus and salty tears make humanity seem so grossly
Fluid. And only birds have a song left to sing.
Are so many ways to say goodbye.
Holding DeathHolding Death
I held death today.
It wasnt so black or dark, it was just
Five chances at it;
Five spurts of dirt snake their way up the embankment.
I feel lightning ricochet through my bones
And thunder cracking, dimly, through the headset, fading off in a little trail,
A wisp of whitish smoke.
My aim is good
But too much awe grips me
Because I have learned the art of taking life.
The scent of clover beneath my feet,
Bees bumbling into my goggles and tiny insects of sweat
Crawl down my spine.
I squeeze my lids shut and suddenly glimpse
A frail gilded hummingbird,
Its beauty matched only by its futile
Frantic beating of wings against air.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More