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 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Theia Gwen
Bullets
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Theia Gwen
There will come a day
When you think of me
And think about what was us
And you'll think,
"I sure dodged a bullet"
The day you think that,
Is the day I put one
Through my brain
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Fish The Pig
Life
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Fish The Pig
Don't speak
shut up
cover those bruises
one word and it's over
if you make too much noise
you'll get hit.

Curl your hair
and hide your ugly face
no one wants to hear you
nobody cares
sit down
shut up
keep quiet or you'll get more bruises
you're nothing
you're worthless
you don't deserve to be alive
keep crying and I'll **** you
shut up
stop lying
you know he'd never hit you
you gave those bruiess to yourself
shut up
stop lying
nobody cares
you know its your fault
stop being dramatic
stop screaming
stop crying
you're not really in pain
shut up
shut up
shut up
shut up!



I've heard it since forever.
It's all they've ever said.
So that's exactly what I'll do,
I won't cry,
pretend not to feel
I'll sit down and shut up.
it's been true all along,
nobody really cares,
you're right
it's my fault
the bruises are gone
but I still feel them.
but it doesn't matter
because I know it's my fault.

So that's what I'll do/
I'll pretend not to feel.
I'll sit down
and not speak a word
because I've been told that
since forever,
that I am nothing,
and that is all I'll ever be.

So I'll sit down,
close my eyes,
and never speak a word.
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Fish The Pig
I saw what she wrote
and that sat me thinking.
Cruel eyes,
cruel hands,
painting me
black and blue.
purple here,
green there,
I'll stitch it with my hair.
Grit my teeth,
naked in the sheath
salt pouring out from
those that saw it all.

Close them.

Maybe this time
the dents in the wall,
the splintered bat-
the window
where my feet
set running
on that muddy earth-
-
maybe this time it'll hurt so bad
that it'll have never happened.
you may not be perfect, but you're perfect for me
My lips are almost chapped even though I use chapstick more often than I eat. They are in limbo, halfway between being soft and kissable and being dry and raw. I don't kiss you as often as I'd like, even though I kiss you several times every day. Kissing you feels so good, because your mouth is warm and soft and moves perfectly with mine. The touch of your lips is tender and sweet, except when it's not. Except when it's deeper and more urgent and your body tenses up and presses itself against me and your arms pull me closer. Except when I can tell you want more, more, MORE. Except when I want that too.
            2. My chest is small and pale and I might be allergic to something because I've got a rash. My chest is always covered by some brightly-colored piece of fabric. It's only bare when I'm in the shower and to be honest that's where I think about you the most. With the water running through my hair and across my skin I think about your eyes and your shy smile and your hands and your laugh. My chest is what you'd call 'petite' but I love it because it lets me pretend I'm a size XS.
            3. My arms are skinny but strong. They're pure muscle and when I move them around, miracle of miracles, they don't jiggle. They're pale too, but that's ok. I'll get tan this summer. It'll probably be a farmer's tan. My arms have about a million nerve endings and I never knew that up until a few weeks ago when you decided to discover what drives me insane. And guess what? You found it. I love it when you move your hands around because your touch makes me light up but the light dies down after a while if you don't keep reminding me that you're there.
             4. My back is the only part of me that got tan. I was wearing a one-piece swimsuit all of last summer and there was a hole in the back. My spine has a 17% curve and I have a few blackheads here and there because I work out so often. I can feel your arm slipping around my waist before it gets to where it wants to stay and that makes me crazy. It makes me want to lie on my back someplace where we can be alone and let your hands go other places (like to the zipper of your jeans or the scar on my ear)
               5. My stomach is the most important part of me. I like to keep it pink and clean and empty. I'd like it to be pure muscle and curves because skinny is good but I don't know if I have the strength to make that happen. Whenever you touch my waist (or anywhere, everywhere), something stirs deep inside of me. I wonder if you feel it too, if you feel it in your stomach or somewhere else or everywhere else.
                6. My inner thighs are probably the only part of me I haven't let you explore yet. Don't worry baby, I promise I won't hold back forever. It's just that my thighs are covered in stretch marks and memories of scars and I don't want you seeing that because I don't want to hurt you. But sometimes it feels like you're holding back too because you don't want to hurt me. I'll let you in on a little secret though- nothing can hurt me. I have armor made of titanium and nothing can pierce it except for words meant only for me and little touches that no one else can see. But here's another secret - there's a pretty little gap between my thighs that measures almost an inch if I lean forward a little bit. When I stand normally it measures only half an inch but that doesn't matter because I promise that I'll make room for you when the time comes, whether it's tomorrow or next week or next year. I promise there's room for you between my thighs.
                  7. My calves are muscled and look hot when I wear high heels. They are strong and that's really helpful when I kiss you because you're kind of tall and sometimes I have to stand on tip-toe. Sometimes one of my legs accidentally goes between yours and then you have to hold me up and I give up and melt into your embrace.
                  8. My feet are always cold. I don't like people seeing them because my toes are weird and so I always wear socks. Except when I don't, but that's only when it's summer and I'm too classy to wear socks with sandals. I wear cute socks though. Flamingos and whales and polka-dots and owls and squirrels. I paint my toes with colorful polish. Right now they're teal, like my eyes.
                  9. My eyes are ever-changing, but always beautiful. They're almost translucent sometimes in the sunlight. Sometimes they're angry and cold and emotionless, and that's when I scare people. Occasionally they're the color of jade, a light green that you could lose yourself in. Sometimes they're dark green, the color of moss and the top of the forest. Sometimes they're light blue, reminiscent of the sky on a cloudless day. And once in a blue moon, they're stony gray and I use them to pierce through the facade. Sometimes they're dark blue, the color of the ocean and I let the boys drown in them. But not you, baby. I'll keep you afloat.
                 10. My body was never a temple. But you can worship me if you want.
if you read all of this, thanks :)
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Fish The Pig
Games
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Fish The Pig
Let's play Hide-And-Seek.
I'll go hide,
and you have to find me.
Count to 100
and I'll off-
are you ready
here we go
1-10 keep counting
While I hide
20-28
it's up to you to figure it all out-
you sneaky cheat!
skipping right to 90
well fine then.
You think you can find me so easy?
you think you know where
and how
I hide?
You don't, trust me you don't.
Keep wandering, that's the way,
yes I was hiding there a minute ago
but not anymore.
Now I'm on the ***** of my feet,
stalking you,
like prey,
is that what you are to me?
I can't even tell anymore.
I wanted you.
I wanted you to find me.
If you find me you get my heart,
but that's the trick, see,
I'm not sure I want to be found.
So I'll change my spot
and keep running,
keep circling you and tracing your steps
I'll keep going until it's you that is hiding
and me that is seeking.
I'll ask you,
I'll ask the world,
count to 100
and come find me,
but each time
you get so close
a hairs breath away from finding me
Off I run
away
away
where you'll never find me.
Because that's the trick, see,
I don't want to be found.
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Theia Gwen
Love is a game of cards
Which I play with hands that fumble
While others hide the hearts on their sleeves
I try to speak without it coming out jumbled
I've been dealt a better hand than most
But I have no idea how to play it
I don't even have an adequate poker face
And my cards fall when I attempt a trick

Love is a game of Monopoly
In which I have little to offer
In a world of Rockefeller's and Morgan's
I sit on the side like a wallflower
An infinite cycle of going round and round
And I'm perpetually trying to catch up
But everyone's so far ahead of me
And the whole affair is quite corrupt

Love is a game of chess
In which I will never win
My moves come slow and hesitant
And I am trusting and easy to convince
Playing on a board of black and white
Although the game itself is in shades of grey
Drive me into a corner and call checkmate
Capture my heart then leave and I will never be okay

Love is a game of tug of war
An equilibrium between our ebb and flow
Keep pulling until we're hanging on by but a single thread
While I debate if the glass half empty or full
I'll always be the one loving more
Even when I don't let it show
And I'll be the one who ends up hurt
When you inevitably decide to let go

Love is a night of games in a casino
In a city of temptation and sin
Seal your covenants with a kiss
Sell your soul to the devil with the handsome grin
Make a wish,
And roll the dice,
Remember every rose has its thorns
And when jealousy blossoms, you'll pay the price

Love is a game of Russian Roulette
Which we all play willingly
Just another character flaw,
A human vulnerability
It's no use trying to protect anyone
Luck can save you time and time again
But you can't escape the bullet forever,
And we're all just victims of love in the end
 Mar 2014 Latiaaa
Riley Ayres
if life were really a tree,
mine would be cold,
dead from the frost

the leaves would have fallen
no hint of gold left on there surface
no love
no care

for this tree stands shorter than the rest
its breaths short
quivering in the silent wind

the trunk shrivels,
its bark turned grey
ashy remains through fire

it has burnt its unending river
of scarlet as its trunk is sliced to pieces

all you do is stand and watch
you watch them tear the tree apart
its beauty being lost each second that ticks by

If life were really a tree
you,

are my Tree Surgeon.
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