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Jordan Newman Jordan Newman
Recommendations: 15

for someone deemed so smart i often know i'm the dumbest one speaking in a room full of cretins.

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i see angels above me, i see demons below me, fighting over heaven.
i loved her more when i was sober.
i don't want a second chance.
love starts with that of a flickerin' cigarette
i swear i could feel your love before i knew your name.

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soul mates

*an ode to proper form*

While sometimes it may seem as if I'm ranting
more than I am creating a piece of art my darling
but that's because the sentences I use go on and on.
Why this is, I may try to explain if only you'd listen
without reason as I describe why I feel deep down, within
my soul there is misery that shines proudly and feels divine.

But I am tired of rules and heretics; yet on the horizon
I still see no rest so I continue on with fright dawn
quickly approaches my window once more, and my darling,
I have had no sleep again as I stand staring at my screen
that smiles back still blank as when I originally sat down.
I'm just trying to explain how I know that I may appear a madman
sometimes when these verses come out with no sense of direction;
but know this as surely as I know I love you, no where is passion
found to grow and burn so strong and fierce than inside the insane.

I know each experience I have will fade away, before it's even done
all the seconds have died and left a memory that may soon be forgotten.
Each minute of anything comes and leaves because everything is fleeting,
so always I find myself in search of something to write the moment down.
I find difficultly in living for now, which is why I always have a pen
close by so that this memory can maybe somehow stand out and maybe remain.

The only problem is finding something that can sit and absorb my ranting
because a scholar would call it a horror but a romantic would be cooing.
I'm stuck in the middle of a rock and a hard place, another moment gone
as I age that much more within the hours it took to document this all down.
How fast I can scribble ink onto paper or how quickly I can strum along
the keys of a keyboard with my fingers so gentle as they keep pushing down.

I'd say it's a good bet to put your money down on thinking I have yet to belong
because for a heart to hold me in its palm, it needs to be patient- more than
a saint, I suppose; because it ain't easy (from what I've heard) to stop my motion.
Always am I pacing, packing and unpacking, rearranging my room and talking
of where I want to go and wish I was, never said to anyone, "I'm glad we get along."
I'm not sure why those words just never made it quite up to my tongue so soon
after love was confessed I felt the passion thin and then out they went never to return.

If words hold power then how strong are actions and consequences? I am often wondering;
as the new spring fling has already left weeks ago, left before the Fall is to come upon
me, before it consumes me- or if I survive that, surely winter is bound to do me in.
They don't want to have their hearts torn out twice in one love affair so me they abandon.
I must admit that the fear they felt was of honest concern for my health and well-being,
fore the me that I was back then had only one goal which was complete self-destruction;
but the whole time go about claiming I'm searching these hearts for romance, love, &passion;.

Now that this time has past and so to has all the hearts of girls, some great and fun
while others hell in a hand basket; then the ones which left me feeling satisfaction
to that of my souls unrelenting burning thirst for romance so real I can breathe it in.
That I could feel a force each time our eyes locked upon each other as we lay down again,
wrapped up gently in each other like twisted bed sheets we know just where it is we belong.
I'm sorry it has taken so many breaking hearts for me to discover love is only non-fiction
if it is truly returned in every word, action, and sonnets given reveling I'm appreciating
them in every sense of the definition; because growing old together would be a blessing.

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