LeftHook

by LeftHook January 11, 2007

No one ever told me . . . .  Someday . . .   You will know someone close to you that dies You will think about killing yourself You will love someone that does not love you back (or love themselves) You will hate someone to your very core You will do something you [...]

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Security Blanket

by LeftHook January 10, 2007

Breathing and pausing . . .  stop.  Should I say it? Would you feel the same way?  What if . . . you did? Say it, don’t doubt yourself.  Life’s too short, don’t be a pussy.  Fricking do it.  I can’t breath. What if you don’t?  Can I recover from hypothermic shock?  Adrenaline buzzes through my [...]

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Sick of you, sick of me.

by LeftHook December 6, 2006

Hickory Dickory, slide on the slope so slippery;  Quick wit-tery, you’re already so sick of me.  Fallacy of your pedigree, once blind but now can see;  Your special fib-brand filigree, idiot prose-grippery.  So much for your juice-head jubilee, I’m calling douchebaggery;   Fuck and olive branch, I’ll take a lemon tree.   

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Lady Liberty’s Pimp Hand

by LeftHook December 1, 2006

Look at these margarine shackles supposedly soaked in sovereign responsibility, while urban warfare smolders,       “50,000 Dead in Iraq’s Civil war.”     Evangelical idiots pose with gingerbread houses for political gain, while a 15 yr. old girl is refused an abortion,       “The Christian coalition refuses to support any candidate that supports abortion or stem-cell research.”     [...]

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Day 246 on the Ground

by LeftHook November 29, 2006

What’s left of this diamond-crusted dream set out upon some time ago, but a fickle folly, a libation of lemon, a jaded joke? Dreams were what we all had . . . a world of imagination, where anything was possible (somewhere a soothing voice says “as long as you put your mind to it”). My childhood, sitting [...]

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Unspoken words

by LeftHook November 27, 2006

What happens to all the things left unsaid? The things you thought of for brief glittering moment, only to be forgotten and shed like flashbulbs of a photo journalist?  Sure for a while, they get stored in your bank of useless knowledge, filed under “S” for “stupid shit you thought was better left unsaid.”  But like [...]

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