Submissions by Jaded_rage3

Tonight, we rest our heads on the bows of those arrows.
I make one false move and you call me out
all "Okay, Now you have to draw TWO cards AND give up anything wild."

and to be honest...
I'm not even sure what game we were playing anymore.
All I know is that I have five cards in my hand
and these random shapes.

Wars do not always involve soldiers and land mines
sometimes it's just you and that place
where your thoughts take you.
Don't get me wrong though,
you wanna see a bloody pile of flesh?
well, it doesn't take a movie...

swinging from the limbs of insanity while crossing fingers, toes and eyes in hopes of anything beyond ... well, anything. this stupid title still follows me around, still yapping at my heels without the tiniest clue that
i
can't
even
feel
you
anymore.
you are my ghost limb. every time i reach out to scratch that itch in the palm of my left hand, there is no fucking hand. my bastard shoulder. my twice cracked rib.
all of my best thoughts are always so magically erased.
who was i to think that any one thing could ever travel that far without becoming...

she says tell me about it
and then i finally squeeze out

i can't.
tell me a story.

and for just a minute I can't breathe.
I can't think.
I don't even know how I found that place
but I've been here before.
Actually, I punched that there bathroom door.
Now I feel like i've lost it twice
in the very same place
about ten years to the day.

I'm not quite sure how she does it
but she does it so well.
She turns every damn persons
every one she comes across
she turns everyone's frown upside down.
Easy as that.
...

So…There once was this girl
who had somehow lived like
30 years in just half the time.The best part was
how she just knew that her soul could never die.
She could never possibly be crushed
just, slightly wrinkled
and then ironed right back out again
extra starch and all.

Sometimes she tells stories that forget to end
and to be honest
I kinda like it that way
i mean…i never want it to end.

She keeps my mixed tapes tucked into her boxers
and thats fine with me.
What I mean is
that I’m the only one who still has a tape player...

I feel like I must be the girl who cried honest.
Once the reputation was actually at stake
it just all seemed so fake.
So fucking rehearsed.
If it had not been for my twice punctured lungs
and my thrice cracked (open) ribcage
we’d be far beyond our marks.
Well past ‘get set’ and ‘go’.

I imagine that it will take far more
than some huge, novelty scissors
and an oversized carboard check
to mark our grand opening.

Our grand re-opening.
(As though her legs wouldn’t open for any stranger with a swanky tongue.)

We’re down to...