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BreakdownTrains and Dolls and Spinning Tops,
The youth won't last forever.
Houses, Toys and Teaparties,
The girl is much too clever.
The innocence behind those eyes,
Was it ever truely real?
To try and reach her, Make the contact,
Uncover what those eyes conceal.
But the girl will stand,
All on her own.
As she slices her wrist,
For reasons unknown.
Her breakdown, In front,
Of the mirrors reflection.
Shattered glass, Hits the ground,
She's so used to rejection.
But she rolls down her sleeve,
And covers the skin.
She will wait for this cycle,
To again re-begin.
Enchanted Part 2 -The PowerfulPhoenixes, Mermaids, Gryffins and Gargoyles,
Ogres and Harpies and a Gorgon's snake coils.
An innocent Faun, and a tough-looking Minotaur,
Wyverns and Loch Ness with Sirens on shore.
The Leprechaun, Chimera, Hyrda or Bigfoot,
A Bunyip, a Yeti, covered in Dragon soot.
A Water Nymph, Banshee, A Genie in a lamp,
Magic Sprites and Yowies, or a mighty Golems Stamp.
On BoardUpon the ship,
Upon the sea.
The captain leads,
The crew agree.
They'll swab the deck,
Without a word.
They'll hoist the sails,
And remain unheard.
Until of course,
They want to be free.
A time in which,
They'll try a mutiny.
Escaping SolitudeEating, sitting, breating,
Living more alone than ever.
Barely holding on,
Wondering when the ties will sever.
Connected to the world,
Wanting, be alone.
To talk to you, my greating wish,
But i'm stuck without a phone.
Is there no way I could try,
To try and make a call?
Or do I take the plunge,
And fall the greatest fall?
Give up, give in, and take the fall,
Deep in the abyss.
To break free and just escape the mess,
To die and leave all this.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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