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Passion makes me tingle
my blood rushing with memories
Recent memories still filled with flame
So many firsts in a world where firsts
are so rare

I run my fingers over a bruise
And a scrape
So innocuous to anyone else
But my blood tingles with the memories
That only you and I share
Brush in hand
Canvas blank
But this time, right now,
I just can't bring myself
to scar the surface.
A song from something half-a-year ago
Reminded me of the way I felt
Every season is different to my heart
Autumn 2012
Would my poetry be concidered art?
This line is assault
Eat my heart
With pepper and salt
Make sure you cook it
thoroughly
Otherwise you'll get poisoned
by all the sentimentality.
I'm tired of
loving, living
I want
a pool of poetry to swim in.
You oppressed, egotistical , ignorant,  uneducated , biased self
Living in the box of conformity
I want to stitch your tongue on the roof of your mouth to silence you  
I refuse to coincide to everyday traditionalist events
I won’t be a victim of  someone’s else’s mistake
Hostilities and intimidation it polluted you ***** little mind
There is nothing unique about  conventional clothes
Poverty ridden the abyss makes me rage
Dreaded emaciated void that overflows with pain
No one is thriving but this phantom pain that you feel is real  
Bleak and suddenly ill
I want to choke out the interior of your shame  
Gelatinous core swallows you whole
While you wear your American mask
This is your wasteland , desolate as your character
It interrupts with clatter as it fractures the earth
Covering you with splinters of despair
Bring me a piece of your heart
and I'll write you a poem
for better or worse
Forever its yours
Between us
Every moment lapses
Into the agony of desire
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