tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44406631974900986412011-07-30T09:28:44.307-07:00my rhymes have the alluring charm of a lullaby while plunging into subject matter of current and contemporary affairs.deploynoreply@blogger.comBlogger51100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4440663197490098641.post-67849366686542298792009-10-22T06:12:00.000-07:002009-11-01T11:07:19.395-08:00his touch has grown empty, his eyes are now closed<br />and his wants and his needs are now blurred and exposed<br />all his lies were so deceiving<br />so i tried to stop him from leaving<br /><br />but love left the building<br />a long time ago<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4440663197490098641-6784936668654229879?l=lullabeat.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>deploynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4440663197490098641.post-28773584822773174842009-10-16T09:20:00.000-07:002009-10-16T09:32:00.456-07:00the boy has got eyes like the deepest hue of blue in the ocean.<br />his words allow me to linger on his lips until they drop into the sea he made up of lies.<br />how do you sleep at night?<br />self assured you deserve a trophy girlfriend to compliment your alluring jaw-line?<br />self assured your manipulative desires of seduction are the epitome of the female race's dream?<br />self assured that your looks will never cease to countermand the fact that your words are of no substance?<br /><br />self assured.<br />self assured.<br />you're<br />not<br />fooling<br />anyone<br />but.<br />your.<br />self.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4440663197490098641-2877358482277317484?l=lullabeat.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>deploynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4440663197490098641.post-55752011147542193672009-10-10T23:57:00.000-07:002009-10-11T00:01:30.399-07:00the city is sleeping, and the noises that have made it famous have ceased.<br />and yet i stir, trying to deter my thoughts and plots on disarming alarming substances<br />that are attempting to shut my mouth,<br />right before<br />i<br />inhale.<br />without oxygen i have no means of producing sound;<br />the vibrations created by the tension of air passing<br />cannot<br />take<br />place.<br />you.<br />are.<br />my.<br />life.<br />supply.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4440663197490098641-5575201114754219367?l=lullabeat.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>deploynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4440663197490098641.post-87860740213676545382009-08-13T22:27:00.002-07:002009-10-16T09:33:10.212-07:00<span style="font-size:78%;">i sit and wait for you to relate, i could demonstrate or elaborate on how it seems like you're a ghost of someone that i cared for most.</span> <p><span style="font-size:78%;">the windy city took our flame and extinguished all of what remained. i hear the winters there are harsh, but it can't compare to the ice on our hearts. beneath the stars of downs and sheets my eyes drip dry, then close, then sleep. but then the warmth of sun breaks through, and i wake up still dreaming i'm wrapped up in you.</span></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HWVDFQUUtzM/SoUDODl29DI/AAAAAAAAAAw/O4AyoXi-Wx8/s1600-h/o186150059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HWVDFQUUtzM/SoUDODl29DI/AAAAAAAAAAw/O4AyoXi-Wx8/s400/o186150059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369701670726333490" border="0" /></a></p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4440663197490098641-8786074021367654538?l=lullabeat.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>deploynoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4440663197490098641.post-47517552665012850002009-08-13T22:27:00.001-07:002009-08-13T22:59:57.425-07:00<p><span style="font-size:78%;">we realize that we will never be the prettiest in the room, that fairy tales are rarely true, that life is fleeting past us soon. our painted faces only save us from ourselves another night, when evening embers justify what day declares a ghastly sight.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:78%;">foreign creatures pine for something fitting a disfigured mold. plastic dreamlike centerfolds. we're only doing what we're told. we pick and pluck and tweek and fix the greatest most unique of parts, until improvement shows its start, we're slowly crumbling our own hearts.</span></p> <p><span style="font-size:78%;">what led us here? can we retrace? or are we doomed a dying race?</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4440663197490098641-4751755266501285000?l=lullabeat.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>deploynoreply@blogger.com0