Love it.
Hate it.
Comment it.
Criticize it.
Make love to it.
Hmm, they'll make a Pen-Fifteen port in a computer someday just for that purpose.


Inspired by the Theatre.My life is scripted and my writer's running out of plots, another love, and of course He made her really hot. Writer, writer, there's a problem with this script. I've seen this scene over and over again. We fall in love, I break her heart. Then I make her fall apart: "I've got a picture-perfect part for you, enjoy your role as Heartbroken Number Two."Inspired by the Theatre.
I need excitement in this movie, a drop-dead gorgeous girl to move me. Now I'm looking for a replacement, and I know we've worked together before, twice in fact, but honey face it, you're perfect for the part, y


My EnglishTeacher WouldBeProud"My English Teacher Would be Quite Proud."My EnglishTeacher WouldBeProud
I've become lost in my thoughts, it's just a bit too crowded in here. Might as well be my school notebook, it's beginning to annoy me, my dear. New assignment, fresh, up-front and focused. Old ones stashed, unwanted, in the back. Now you see what will happen to you if you let my memories of you stack and stack and stack.
But as long as you keep this up, you'll have a section all of your own. A vivid-colored tab, underlined three theatrical times, so I'll see you everytime I look in this wretc


Maple TreesMaple trees have Nothing on me and this sappy plea.Maple Trees
I'm a Shallow, Sorry Sucker for those Bold, Blue, Beautiful eyes. My bowl of Chex must be an ocean compared to my mind. I'm a male, turned on by vision, what more can I say? But sweetie when you speak to me that way Estrogen pumps more than Testosterone can. You turn a shallow boy into a deep, touched man.
Oh, you see straight through me, straight to the epitome of blasphemy. or at least that's what I think people see. You tell me how lucky you are to have me. I tell you how crazy you are
YMCA
DC

Conversation With MyselfI know your secrets and your secret favorite place to be touched.Conversation With Myself


No one ever has pirate booty.The signature of hopeless romantics, Barely ledgable in such sparse beams of light, Composed with the sloppiest penmanship, A pathetic excuse for a mushey love poem With the final result of a malicous death threat. Drizzled with the ramblings of aNo one ever has pirate booty.
Love-struck alcoholic, Who won't stop slurring his words. Pouring his heart out With sub-conscious murmurs Blurted out in random fits Timed to the rhythm of rapid eye movement. Violently shaking and gasping for breath, The victim of a one-night stand. Confined to his bed. All to certain of his upcomming death.
--
Klovebye.
--
I hate conforming :/
--
Founder of *ExiledPoetry - Staff in *The-Last-Stanza - Member of *Apophysis and ~TheWord
"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see..."
The Beatles, "Strawberry Fields"
--
You Want A Hero??
Go Look Somewhere Else
OUCH! ....my feelings...
--
--
--
--
i smile to direct his attention from the rest of this sinking ship.
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