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 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
Fatty carbs,
                    The comfort food to ones soul!!!
 Jun 2015
Sjr1000
The it upstairs
thinks it's God,
But it isn't.
Man or Woman,
It comes in a thousand genders.

It's only has one mind,
Its own pleasure,
The power of Now,
Well, that's what it's all about.
The cost,
Well, that's no problem.

It begs
It borrows
It steals
It pleads
It lies to you straight faced.

If you bleed,
When the consequences are paid,
It says, "Not me"
"We'll deal with it later"
"One more time"
"One more round"
"One more rodeo"
"One last time for the road."

It's pretty smug
most of the time,
Can't move your
arms or legs,
But whips up anxiety
if
you say, "No. "
It'll show you resistance is futile.

Though it only hangs
around
for little while,
It'll let you know.

It speaks to you
in the third person voice -
You deserve it
You need it
You've been so good.

It'll talk you into trances
strange self-destructive dances,
Twist you upside down,
Inside out.

It ain't God,
Somebody needs to talk to it soon,
Let it know,
These days of running the show
are numbered,
There's more to life than this slumber
Numbness has had its abundance,
Talk to it soon
While there's still time.

A whisper, though, says something different,
"How's about
one more
time. "
Dedicated to those in Recovery.
And those who say, "Not me, not yet. "
 Jun 2015
Mike Hauser
Can you tell me where it is
Can you show me where it's at
Could you please share with me
If there's any of it left

Maybe just a pinch
Perhaps a line or two
Don't you know if I had some
That I would share with you

Never seen it in a bottle
Nor in a leather pouch
But know that when you take it
It brings on a smile

Doesn't come in ounces
Or in bulk by the pound
As good as this stuff is
You'd think there'd be more around

We've all heard so much about it
And it's how we'd love to live
No need to do without it
Take that hit of happiness

We could all be junkies
Craving the latest fix
Slapping on our backs that monkey
Being happy happiness addicts
 Jun 2015
Curing
There you are...
Perched on the edge of my ocean.

Skipping stars across the horizon...
New galaxies bursting to life before my eyes.

And what is your name?
Ha!
What does it matter?

I've fallen in love with the sound of every word you've spoken.

I can still hear you laughing as we danced barefoot under the universe.
"what is an addiction to you?" they asked, “well” you begin, “an addiction is having a cigarette, and just when you finish it, you feel like you need another one” but what you have yet to sink into are the depths of your imagination that you can’t care to to dwell on, because you’re too busy floating on the surface of your own soul.
You see,
An addiction is having your first taste of the igniting fumes as they dance on your tastebuds, manipulating the fact that no matter how good it may taste, that is what’s going to destroy you. its pushing the pessimism out of the inevitable because you’re fooled into being blind enough to think that this isn’t the thing thats going to **** you. It's the trick it plays when you think the smoke is beautiful as it caresses itself around your touch of naive passion, when the smoke is only the remains of the damage you’ve already faced.
It's a belonging you covetously latch onto in a desperate attempt to find any source of comfort, when you don’t even realise that it's only comforting because you’ve filled it up with everything you hate about yourself, every word you wish you never said, or thing you wish you never did. It's filled with every person you wish you never met and hurt you wish you never faced.
But maybe its the kind of addiction thats filled with everything you love about yourself, every word you wish you did say or thing you did do. Maybe its filled with every person you wish you spoke to, or hurt you wish you had to face. either way, you’ve locked that up so deep down inside of you that you’ve lost the possibility of an easy escape, you have to find something that destroys you to make it reappear, even if it's only a brief reminder. A delicate touch. A gentle wind of scent.  
You see, nothing is ever like your first addiction. You could be skimming pebbles before you realise to shoot stars, but no matter how much bigger or brighter that star may seem, it will never truly give you the same release that skimming that pebble did.
You let your addiction take over your senses because you believe thats the only thing that can give you a sense of comfort. You don't even begin to consider that this addiction is whats burning your withered soul into nothing but a pile of ashes, swept in the wind of humanity and reality. An addiction is living with the reality of rotting flesh and damaged bones; you can’t even stand alone because you’ve let your addiction glue itself with the fear of loneliness to your hand, so you think of nothing other than it being a part of you, an attachment, a parasite ******* the life out of you, whereas all you’ll ever believe is that its ******* the poison out of your pure blood.
An addiction is something you may not even realise you’re addicted to because you haven’t let yourself get hungry enough to lust for it. It's always there. It's destroying you. Even the smell of your addiction gives you a sense of relief that you’re not alone, when in fact the smell is there to remind you that you are trapped in a state of your own mind.
You have chosen to be oblivious to be the flaws it possesses, because at the time nothing can seem better than your first addiction, nothing in this world could beat the smell, the taste and the touch of your first addiction, and you have let that take over your senses to a stage where if that addiction was taken from you, it would hollow out your heart like a pin pricked egg.
No addiction is better for you than your first love.
Did you really think i was talking about the cigarette?
 Jun 2015
SøułSurvivør
---

i'm here

invisible hand
retching in your pocket
reaching in your face
teaching all

or nothing

blue bottles buzz
round my head in circles
making me dizzy

I pick a posie of dandilions
gone to seed

I foray about
looking for the shiniest
diamonds in aluminum cans

the brass ring
must certainly be
tarnished gold

the forge bellows that is my chest
heaves in another cough
cooling my tounge
the empty wind that echos ashes
spent embers collect
in the cracks
of the

abyss

my bones which were disjointed
oh so slowly reassemble
instantly
but someone
at the factory didn't
read the
destructions

my legs are arms
my hands
feet

i lie under a cold
sky
in july
oh don't cry
when i die

no whitened seplechur my inheritance
my epitaph nonsense

a palm tree o'r my

grave



soulsurvivor
(C) 6/13/2015
Stream of consciousness work
about the homeless in Los Angeles

Maybe this kind of poem should
have no final destination
This one did. But I allowed it to flow

---
 Jun 2015
South-by-Southwest
You get off work on a Friday eve
The backed up traffic is your pet peeve
You stop off at the local bar
Run into friends as you park your car
You drink import on American dream
Hey there's Mary , ain't she a scream
Someone slips you some super daze
Your out of it for a month of days
You dance now with every smile
Got you running fifteen miles
Long ago you heard last call
On the way out you stumble and fall
Passed out inside your car
Wake up behind the bars
Gee you think it was so much fun
Cain't wait till the next week's done
Drugs , ***** , and . . and . . and that other thing .
Oh, give your body now to me
Blessing it with extreme ecstasy
Setting free what you hold inside
Each desire, each need you hide
****** craving to my hard touch
Sensual needing, wanting too much
Inner thoughts of a fetish like mind
Obsession of both, one of a kind
Now uncontrollable bodies together
Copyright © Chris Smith 2015
 May 2015
Mike Hauser
when it comes to Facebook
i no longer like
finding social media
takes up to much of my time

and in today's society
how many peak in for a look
at what their friends are doing
making them feel they've kept in touch

or how we Snapchat our activities
and in seconds it is gone
i ask can you picture that
if not Instagram's not far off

and if your in a hurry
with the words you have to say
in no time you can tweet it out
then soon be on your way

all this newfangled socializing
is anti-social at its best
never to deeply diving
yet still wearing our masks

please don't get me wrong
social media does have its place
it's just sometimes in this book
we all wear a different face

and no amount of liking
can real time face to face be replaced
 May 2015
Sabrina
I smile so much
when I think
of waking up
beside you

                          then I get so angry
                          because I know
                          it will never
                          happen
In one of those moods.
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