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    poetry


    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:



    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:49:34

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:




    There are times my heart moves beyond its simple beating.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:42:30

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:




    There are times my heart moves beyond its simple beating

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:42:15

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:


         I guess the thing will be to give it voice. to make mention.
         simply. to write it out.
         whether, it's time or how oddly we are matched. are we
         matched?
         like.

                   you laying there. to me it seems like it must be such
                   a high high - whereas to you, i bet,
                   it's such a weak high




         these 20 minutes [we've been moving].



                                                      [are we moving]?



         seem like two hrs.
         these 20 minutes - you've been lying there.
         i am so sober
















         


         You tell me what street to turn onto. and then nod-out.




















         What's up with these street signs anyway?
         Most of them obscured by tree limbs, earlier
         model vehicles, haphazard on blocks. the dark
         night. the cacophony of a hood that's
         foreign to me. I imagine
         hyenas, one of them perched
         up on a cliff, a sentinel. a look out.
         ushers us in - to a spot
         to a crib - to a cache - some fucking place

         

         I pull up hard on the brakes
         you lurch back into consciousness.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:10:59

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:


         I guess the thing will be to give it voice. to make mention.
         simply. to write it out.
         whether, it's time or how oddly we are matched. are we
         matched?
         like.

                   you laying there. to me it seems like it must be such
                   a high high - whereas to you, i bet,
                   it's such a weak / high




         these 20 minutes [we've been moving].



                                                      [are we moving]?



         seem like two hrs.
         these 20 minutes - you've been lying there.
         i am so sober
















         


         You tell me what street to turn onto. and then nod-out.




















         What's up with these street signs anyway?
         Most of them obscured by tree limbs, earlier
         model vehicles, haphazard on blocks. the dark
         night. the cacophony of a hood that's
         foreign to me. I imagine
         hyenas, one of them perched
         up on a cliff, a sentinel. a look out.
         ushers us in - to a spot
         to a crib - to a cache - some fucking place

         

         I pull up hard on the brakes
         you lurch back into consciousness.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:09:45

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:


         I guess the thing will be to give it voice. to make mention.
         simply. to write it out.
         whether, it's time or how oddly we are matched. are we
         matched?
         like.

                   you laying there. to me it seems like it must be such
                   a high high - whereas to you, i bet,
                   it's such a weak / high




         these 20 minutes [we've been moving].



                                                      [are we moving]?



         seem like two hrs.
         these 20 minutes - you've been lying there.
         i am so sober
















         


         You tell me what street to turn onto. and then nod-out.




















         What's up with these street signs anyway?
         Most of them obscured by tree limbs, earlier
         model vehicles, haphazard on blocks. the dark
         night. the cacophony of a hood that's
         foreign to me. I imagine
         hyenas, one of them perched
         up on a cliff, a sentinel, a look out.
         ushers us in - to a spot
         to a crib - to a cache - some fucking place

         

         I pull up hard on the brakes
         you lurch back into consciousness.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:08:21

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:


         I guess the thing will be to give it voice. to make mention.
         simply. to write it out.
         whether, it's time or how oddly we are matched. are we
         matched?
         like.

                   you laying there. to me it seems like it must be such
                   a high high - whereas to you, i bet,
                   it's such a weak high




         these 20 minutes [we've been moving].



                                                      [are we moving]?



         seem like two hrs.
         these 20 minutes - you've been lying there.
         i am so sober
















         


         You tell me what street to turn onto. and then nod-out.




















         What's up with these street signs anyway?
         Most of them obscured by tree limbs, earlier
         model vehicles, haphazard on blocks. the dark
         night. the cacophony of a hood that's
         foreign to me. I imagine
         hyenas, one of them perched
         up on a cliff, a sentinel, a look out.
         ushers us in - to a spot
         to a crib - to a cache - some fucking place

         

         I pull up hard on the brakes
         you lurch back into consciousness.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:07:22

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:


         I guess the thing will be to give it voice. to make mention.
         simply. to write it out.
         whether, it's time or how oddly we are matched. are we
         matched?
         like.

                   you laying there. to me it seems like it must be such
                   a high high - whereas to you, i bet,
                   it's such a weak high




         these 20 minutes [we've been moving].



                                                      [are we moving]?



         seem like two hrs.
         these 20 minutes - you've been lying there.
         i am so sober
















         


         You tell me what street to turn onto. and then nod-out.




















         What's up with these street signs anyway?
         Most of them obscured by tree limbs, earlier
         model vehicles, haphazard on blocks. the dark
         night. the cacophony of a hood that's
         foreign to me. I imagine
         hyenas, one of them perched
         up on a cliff, a sentinel, a look out.
         ushers us in - to a spot
         to a crib - to a cache. Some fucking place

         

         I pull up hard on the brakes
         you lurch back into consciousness.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:07:02

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:


         I guess the thing will be to give it voice. to make mention.
         simply. to write it out.
         whether, it's time or how oddly we are matched. are we
         matched?
         like.

                   you laying there. to me it seems like it must be such
                   a high high - whereas to you, i bet,
                   it's such a weak high




         these 20 minutes [we've been moving].



                                                      [are we moving]?



         seem like two hrs.
         these 20 minutes - you've been lying there.
         i am so sober
















         


         You tell me what street to turn onto. and then nod-out.




















         What's up with these street signs anyway?
         Most of them obscured by tree limbs, earlier
         model vehicles, haphazard on blocks, the dark
         night. the cacophony of a hood that's
         foreign to me. I imagine
         hyenas, one of them perched
         up on a cliff, a sentinel, a look out.
         ushers us in - to a spot
         to a crib - to a cache. Some fucking place

         

         I pull up hard on the brakes
         you lurch back into consciousness.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:06:20

    dotsJournal: dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood:


         I guess the thing will be to give it voice. to make mention.
         simply. to write it out.
         whether, it's time or how oddly we are matched. are we
         matched?
         like.

                   you laying there. to me it seems like it must be such
                   a high high - whereas to you, i bet,
                   it's such a weak high




         these 20 minutes [we've been moving].



                                                      [are we moving]?



         seem like two hrs.
         these 20 minutes - you've been lying there.
         i am so sober
















         


         You tell me what street to turn onto. and then nod-out.




















         What's up with these street signs anyway?
         Most of them obscured by tree limbs, earlier
         model vehicles, haphazard on blocks, the dark
         night. the cacophony of a hood that's
         foreign to me. I imagine
         hyenas, one of them perched
         up on a cliff, a sentinel, a look out.
         ushers us in - to a spot
         to a crib - to a cache - some fucking place

         

         I pull up hard on the brakes
         you lurch back into consciousness.

    ...Created 2017-10-14 20:05:11

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

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    January 10 07
    131,497 Poems
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