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jugendliche.i.) die Bekennende
Du bist meine Liebe, meine Engel in der Nacht.
Die Sonne scheint so hell fuer uns, du kuesst mich und sagt,
"Kannst du bitte halt mein Hand?"
Ich kuesse dich, weil ich weiss ich kann.
Ich hoffe, du weisst, du bist wirklich schoen.
Alles, ich kann sagen ist "ich brauche dich so gern."
Meine Liebe fuer dich ist sehr gross, ich bitte zu sein.
Immer Ihren Liebling, damit du mein sein.
ii.) die Sehnsucht
Sie ist so viel staerker als ich.
Sie leuchtet den Raum und ich fuehle mich
Als wuerde ich tiefer fallen in der Liebe.
Ich denke, das sind Liebhaber oder Taschendiebe?
Aber sie ist so anders, so perfekt und Art ist.
Es scheint, sie fühlt sich nicht Zwist.
Ich will nur ihre Hand zu Halten,
Aber das ist nicht etwas, was ich ganz einfach verwalten.
Sie hat eine andere, obwohl sie liebt mich mehr
Und ich weiss, ich liebe sie ebensosehr.
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 4.1chapter four
“is astrid your girlfriend?” keillan asked me unexpectedly at our breakfast. i nearly choked on my chocolate milk.
“what the heck, kiddo?” i tried to laugh but it just came out really uncomfortable sounding. “of course she isn’t.”
“well, was she?” his insight never ceased to amaze me. his eyes were large and intent, as if he’d thought about this for a long time.
“what even would make you think that, keillan?” i appeared composed. it was still way too soon for me to answer questions about astrid. “you’ve known me your whole life. that’s the most peculiar thing to ever come out of your mouth.” i was avoiding eye contact. keillan’s got this way of making you feel totally at ease with even the most uncomfortable of topics. i guess it’s a good trait to have.
“okay, you guys are always talking about
A Little Bit Like Crazy: Chapter 3.1Chapter Three
The only person that was at home when I arrived back was my sister Brinley, a spoiled fifteen-year-old with a penchant for making my life miserable. She was lying on the sofa Daisy Buchanan-style, sprawled lazily reading a fashion magazine.
“You’re home late,” she grumbled, not even having the decency to lift her eyes from the gossip column. “How was your drunken rave last night?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm, a smirk on her lips. She genuinely repulsed me.
“You didn’t,” I spat gruffly in her direction, wide-eyes full of anger. “You did not see anything.” I was terrified, not that she had seen, but that she had shown our parents.
“Au contraire, my dear sister,” she chuckled nonchalantly. “I especially liked the one of you smashing a beer bottle into Mrs. McCartney’s heirloom china vase.”
“Brin, you wouldn’t dare,
fresh.don't look at me.
every time you do i see her.
you look just like her, but
shorter thinner sweeter
younger. you are so much younger.
you're nowhere near as naive.
innocent is not in your expansive
vocabulary. your voice is both
agonizing and intoxicating.
we used to lie next to each
other, hold hands and harmonize.
you held me when i cried
and laughed at my cheesy jokes.
now you have gone. you don't
even speak to me, no choral context.
but you look at me. and you smile.
and you make me feel so fresh,
don't ever leave my side.
a memoir of a butterfly.her memory is like a dead mockingbird.
something so beautiful, but remnants
scatter in the wind, unable to
comprehend whether it was deserved
perishing or a mistake.
will you remember in twenty
years, or twenty months, twenty
goddamn seconds, or will she
fade like the fluttering feathers
of the bird shot down in anguish?
can you kiss yourself goodnight
because her butterflies will never
again land on your fleshy lips?
laugh to keep from crying, cry
to keep for being numb,
pretending her presence was
that of a ghost inside a dream.
cover your wrists in gauze and
guilt to prevent moral infection,
feign disinterest when she bites
her lips, don't crave to be the
one biting back, because you'll
only be chewing yourself out.
don't look directly at her, she
is a sapphic eclipse, tease
me with your sloping neck,
tease me with your impeccable
jawline, hazel eyes and
crooked nose, a sweet breathiness
achieved by her trembling,
raspy alto, how i want to
press my mouth to hers and utter
the cure for romantic epilepsy is you.lighthearted heartthrobs
leave me tenderhearted for
the moment, callously discarded
when the brokenhearted relapses
occur and my heartache is just
a simple subtraction amongst
the breakage and blood pumping.
can you heal me? can you heal you?
do you know how to divide me
into the good, the bad, and the
parts that get too clingy?
can you tell me what it is
that keeps you clinging?
your body is like a metronome,
and i just want to move
to your tempo, you envelope
me with your beautiful
lyricism and lips like a rose.
hands hold like roping soliloquies
of the what-ifs and what-nows,
they're clenching like we're
on a roller coaster and i just
want to hold on to you, if
i could kiss you would i be
considered lucky or a casualty?
i want to peruse the inky pages
of your loitered soul, picking
up the pieces because something
as beautiful as you doesn't
deserve to be littered.
all i want you to do is stand
near me, not even next to me,
because the glow of your glower
is gorgeous even in your mos
drowned.this ice is getting thinner
and i keep feeling like i'm
about to fall through. i just
wanted you to envelope me in
your harmony, sweet kisses
making the syncopation
between broken glass and
heart pieces, shattered
with lips uttering breathlessly.
i wanted to be warmed by
the sound of your melodies,
you told me of my beauties
and i believed you, remember
that my soul is fragile and
that suicide and silence
start and end the same way.
keep in mind when you told
me how much you cared and
how much i hope you realized
at this point the water is
freezing and i can't swim.
love like remission.everybody says that
i'm a specific type. i
think that's just an
excuse to say there's
really no chance i can
ever be loved. keep saying
that i'm beautiful, keep
saying that i'm good.
do you really think i
believe any of that? i'm
trying to turn a new
page, cleanse the wounds
she caused me, and now
i don't know which way
to turn because neither
path is paved for me and
neither door is open. i
wish i could say it was
easy but i can feel it
coming back, steadily like
a creeping animal ready
to pounce on my freshly-
healed heart and soul.
everyone says i have a type.
i believe that in a
heartbeat because each
heart that beats next to
mine is sweet in the melody.
i don't have my choice of
the picking but i can
pretend to be free of this
illness, relapsing on
romanticism and using stoicism
as a crutch, this wall i
put up can be broken down
by whoever's love is strong
enough. someone, take my hand
and lead me through the disease.
Ophelia unrelentingI keep all the
underneath my tongue :
they're the ones
that say you
love me -
- love me not
in this madness,
in this suspended
state of grace :
I will soldier on,
I will not allow
this willow branch
A song out of songsYou should have killed me when you had the chance. because. you were the king and now you're unconscious.
we can't be friends. sugar.
You really got me. this is gonna hurt. to hell and back.
this means war. sleep with one eye open. till the death of me. know your enemy.
We won't back down. with a little help from my friends. you're going down.
just the way you are. you deserve nothing and I hope you get less.
Darling. tonight the world dies. breathless. and all things will end. across the universe.
don't be afraid. I'm not afraid. Everything will be alright. in the end.
Everything's an illusion. and I fade out. the memory. on my own. since you been gone.
Say you'll haunt me. I'm lost without you. bruised and scarred. still waiting. Congratulations I hate you. I feel so on my own. How could this happen to me?
My heart is broken. I want you, I need you, I love you. my angel. It's not over.
Not your HeartLying in my bed, in the silence of the night,
my head is overwhelmed with one, single, giant
thought right in this lone moment. You, my dear,
you are the thought that is swimming laps
through my head.
How do I even begin to wonder if you do love
me; it feels like your giving me so many mix
signals that I am beginning to question if my
eyes are playing little tricks on me. Or are
you just unsure if you should take the leap.
You don't want to feel the pain that could
over rule every emotion that you have no
desire to feel in the first place. If
that's so, then I could never want to break
a heart like yours, it has way to much
wonderment for me to want to break when
there is so much more for me to explore.
The uniqueness that your soul has makes it
so hard, for me to resist not wanting to go
look into your eyes to see your whole world
lit up in a matter of seconds; maybe it's
just the reflection of me every time that I
look at you, how you can make me smile
effortlessly because of
even when the sun has set and the world seems its darkest…
take solace in knowing that the moon shall cast a beautiful porcelain glow upon the earth.
And my darling…
know that when the moon is gone from the sky
innumerable stars betwixt galaxies afar dance to feed your wandering eyes
and even when the clouds block the stars,
let the rain kiss upon your face and renew your belief that one day the sun shall rise again…
To kindle the flame in your heart and illuminate the light within your eyes and your soul.
For my love…
i have nothing but faith that even through the blackest of nights you shall persist in being the most wondrous thing I have ever come to know.
Love is. . .
Love is when I can't fall asleep because you are on my mind.
Love is impossible to describe, like the taste of water, or like how you taste on lips.
Love is when I wake up wishing it was your arms wrapped around me.
Love is our morning texts and goodnight wishes.
Love is not being able to stop thinking about you, wondering if you are happy.
Love is the worry that comes when you are hurt, wanting to kiss your wounds, even if you are my strong solider.
Love is meeting your gaze and having my heart trip.
Love is laughing with you, our fingers intertwined swinging, wanting nothing more than to be beside you.
Love is not wanting a future without you, wanting to wake up beside you and knowing that you love me back.
Love is . . .being yours & you being mine.
The Orange and The PigWhen Carrie met Alex
She was limping
And hurting more than her
Pulsing mind could understand.
And she saw him
And her immediate thought
Was to throw herself on him,
She could close her eyes and
Think of Momma when he hugged her.
And she vocalized all of this
Stretching out her blood stained arms
Towards his tall, suited form,
Which would of course become externally
When his mind caught her undeniable satellite signal.
When Alex met Carrie
And her distress
Spilled through the street
Like a tidal wave.
And she fell into his arms,
And the blood caused his stomach
To lurch out against his skin
And she said
'Please I'm dying'
In this Southern America type goloss.
And Alex was very confused,
But being the horrorshow young man
He was so painfully forced to be,
He knew he had to help.
And while he carried her
Through the streets going
Bog knows where,
His agitated mind reminded him of
Epic Rap Battles of MMA- Simon VS NoahI dislike you blue haired man, painted blue hair and fake tan,
I'm a legend I am top notch, come 'ny closer, I'll kick you in the crotch!
Your face is so damn ugly, I cannot even cope,
I cannot understand how Daryl can see hope,
U just gonna stand there and fiddle with yo thing?
Think yo better rapper than me?! Well, I'm the BLACK king!
Oh shut up you little fuck!
You cannot even suck a decent cock!
Actually, that's the only thing you do,
You're a fairy. You're gay. U a fuckin homo!
That's why you hang with Emil,
None of you has any appeal.
I know a bitch who shags anyone to sleep,
That's right, Simon Lullaby indeed!
Get lost and suck my balls,
Think u can probe me when night falls?!
I don't think so you blue, pathetic shit,
I don't like your attitude, no, not one fuckin bit!
My magic is much better than yours,
At least I don't grow rainbow pubes,
You might be the black king but your brain is darker
Yo a Lil faggot, my penis has more power,
You suck dick, my rhymes are neat,
Go to hell
A bloody warrior's heartWith front-held pain
I wandered the world,
Alone I walked
My heart gone grey...
Then I met her
Our meet by chance,
Her strain was worse
Than mine ever was...
Since our encounter
I vowed her aid,
My heart for hers
We'd share the rain...
My heart now aches
It slowly bleeds,
A warrior I was born
But now accompanied too...
Not-so Idle ConversationYou are like the sky in so many ways.
Let's begin with the fact that you, as a person, you are so vast. I could spend years talking with you and still not know the workings of your mind.
For the most part, you live your life underappreciated. People take you for granted, thinking that you are too common-place for their notice, when really, you are just way over their heads.
Sometimes anger clouds your countenance and rage flashes behind your eyes, but never for selfish reasons, for you are always practical and thoughtful of those around you. I also see you on normal days, the times when nothing clouds my vision and I see the true blue of your personality. People don't know what they're missing.
Your words. You choose them ever so carefully, always gentle and unsure like rain on a windowpane or a breath of wind. How refreshing it is to listen to you!
When night calls, you don bold colors, alarming shades of pink or red like sunset, a facade. A mask that men call "beautiful."
Your HandsI remember when your hands
Were intertwined with mine,
Twisting, turning, constant
Yearning to know exactly
What this was, this feeling
I'm learning to cope with.
I never liked holding hands,
For in the hands the heart
Is held, folding fingers
Over one another's was never
That appealing to me, but you.
You kept my head reeling,
Returning for more, I would
Soar as your hands wrapped
'Round my body, discerning
Why this felt so new, a few
Had called me cute before,
Why is it different when
You say I'm beautiful?
Now, it's all changed, it's
Over, you were the reason
I felt this switch, a changing
Season, you said the words,
"I love you." You said it to
Me, you see, I take things
Like that pretty seriously.
You caused me such grief, a
Relief now knowing you aren't
As great as you think you are,
I'm far changed from those days,
I don't hate you. But I don't
Miss you, or to kiss you. I was
Happy to dismiss you, but I miss
Your hands intertwined with mine.
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