MessagesLieInSand

You were born into a world of misinformation and religious hatred. Where love infiltrates all of the crevices between our decisions and no man is ultimately more powerful than the next. You will take this world and mold it into something worthwhile, because after all you are my brother- I will do all I can to make you be complete in yourself and see bigger pictures in minute details. I will teach you to stand tall for our size. This place, has things that you don't need to remember: Such as the impact of a broken heart, the linger from intolerance that cuts each one of us differently, the way your mother looks, when she feels l

Couch Sitting in a Corporate Book Store: Attempting a Look at My Time AJeantae 2012 I faintly remember the days I held the day firm in my hand-forcing our pulses together at sweaty palms- I slipped, slipped away; the memorial of my ferociousness evaporating as I wave, as mirrors place hands self-consciously in my pockets. I constantly pull out cotton balls from the seams of jeans, leaving floating footprints at the edges of these fragmented sidewalks. I stare at flickers in streetlamps that appear strong, bright and glowing in the eyes of the others. I do less laundry now, carrying yesterday's cigarette smoke around with me-

I want to be sitting outside with you sipping tea and smoking tobacco. There is a storm brewing over head and I want to take pictures of you watching lightening strikes. We'd talk astrophysics and politics drop snarky british jokes in between our exhalations. I'll want to kiss and paint little tattoos on your open skin. Putting Post-It notes on your pocket lines, fishing for your fingers to feel heart beats and lifeline patterns. I'll kiss your lips and then be stuck in a fake British accent.

jeantae (https://www.deviantart.com/jeantae) The next time you open your arms while we let down our gates I'm jumping into your canvass spawning new colors for you, struggling to make the only thing that can satisfy the quench you have; unknowingly is beauty. -- Art is a series of repetitions that can suspend time and create beauty; then log adjectives. -- Around three seconds after we kiss I miss reaching for you, and the child within me stretches out little things that weigh so heavily on my knotted shoulders, such as: a single set of foot steps; alone. As it burn fears into my tenuous soles. -- Exactly like the sound of ice cracking under pressure; I

Leaves; as he's leaving By: AJT I have never been good with         goodbyes. yet we sprinkle them like autumn leaves around every empty__parking spot, they make such a        reverberating noise         (reverberating)  as they're crushed under my tennis shoes. Each closed door hits; burning like puffs from a cigarette your fingers washing off mine stain them yellow like nicotine    then fall to the ground and stay. I return to my bedroom your scent is still on my pillow,      so I bury my face in it, your heat is still under my blankets,      so I suffocate underneath them. And still there's always that 1st b

Mon Chat By: AJT I keep telling myself to get a cat. Small warm fuzz that can rile me up in the morning and eat breakfast next to with a bowl of cereal-without a moment's peace. A snarling fur ball to crawl up next to and poke its sensitive paws, then to chase me around the room taking shots at my loose jean string.  A friend to purr with me at night  to help me forget all the parts of me   I can't change and to help me forgive   the ones I won't. A pair of eyes to guide my home.

For a photograph 6.25.09 6:18 pm thunderstorms of me clamoring up steps stripping each third, my clothes (damp) patch on white carpet. my Detroit suburb. the front door creaks back open with a splash of thunder, flash hitting the white gutters and I’m dropping warm water on my speckled skin. goosebumps and street lights; I saw a curbside rainbow cowered in a puddle.

Fallen Elegy; (Gaza Spring 2009) By: Alyssa J. Trager 1. Witnessing devotion for G-d as hearts shed layers onto the ground piling into a disheveled heap. Coated in sand I see feet rushed and lungs breathe in cold still air; reeking of blood; moist Mediterranean humidity. Wishes to be there together but now remaining, resting only in hands is a photograph. His dark straining eyes burning sand entraps tears in crystals. Missiles fly from airplanes crushing hearts and mine. I watch the television… Goodbye. Ammo pounds ears docile, sweat blue from hot, fleeting skin, falling into exhaustion. Bullets, more similar to fallen