I want to walk

inside of you

in the corner shop

of crimson visions,

feel your fingers

squeeze my pages,

touching silky words

of lust, feeling my spine.

Taste my words

with wild imagination,

strip my covers

spread open my center.

Trace your breath

along my phrases,

digest my juices,

take my virginity.

Make me feel

used and abused.

Let me out

of closeted bookshelf

of bare and exposed

leather skinned essence.

Don’t leave me forlorn

alone in the dust

Open me up wide,

expose my inner core

to sensual possibilities.

He picked me up

I felt his hands surround me

His fingers moved slowly

Across my spine

Beautiful words left his lips

I could feel his breath on my skin

I thought I would be his forever

After a while he started looking around

He eventually walked away

And never looked back

Typical

Time has taken its toll

On this library I call home

The cases are all dirty

And every shelf is bowed

But I still sit here waiting

While my pages turn yellow

I've told my story over again

More times than I could count

Now though my ink is fading away

And the words are hard to make out

But if I was taken off this shelf

I would be able to tell my tale proud

I know every letter on every page

And I've memorized each sentence

I would give up my glossary

Or even my appendix

For just one more chance

To be a reader's resplendence

But here I stay forgotten

My tale will never end

Though my corners are all busted

And my spine is cracked and bent

I'll stay put up on my shelf

With hopes to someday be read

They let the dust settle

It grows thick on me

Because they placed me in the back

Where no one wants to be

It's cold, and it's dark

I feel so underrated

A good read

yet I am unappreciated.

Shoved in between

Overused spines

I've never been opened

You'll see no wear signs.

It would be so nice

Just to take a vacation

Away from this shelf

I could feel relaxation.

They claim that they need me

To stick around

Just in case another cover

cannot be found.

Sometimes I say I'll jump

And plummet to my death

But I am just lonely

And that's not worth expediting my last breath.

Feel like being a hero?

You'll do cool stunts, like...

Bust your ass sliding over the roof of a car to catch the bad guys.

You mean business, buddy.

You spit blood out like it's nothing.

You spit a tooth out like it's nothing.

Scrapes and bruises are trophies, and the ladies love the scars.

You get tons of respect.

You take no lip from no one because you're the one that's the fast-talking, wise-cracking Mofo in this story.

Everyone will respect you when you pull that silver, shiny revolver out, spinning it around to do those fancy gun tricks at the nick of time, and you've saved a life.

No one sees the clues you see. You have Detective Sixth Sense.

You are the new cop on the block, and everyone should quake in fear.

Please...pick me up from the shelf, partner. I need you as my partner. The other one died or disappeared...I don't know! That's why we need to do this thing! In honor of his memory.

I  am brand new, with an adventure that will pump you up with adrenaline. You can't deny this case.

I am so bored on this shelf, even though I am around my colleagues and peers.

Doesn't my glossy cover excite you?

We will bicker at times but getting shot at will make us the best of friends.

I sit on this shelf gazing over this place full of others like me.

I wonder if when they look at this shelf if I am what they see.

Will anyone notice me or do they already?

I sit still on this shelf with my spine to keep me steady.

Every now and then I get grazed by their fingers.

I hope to be taken to the noisy red light with the annoying little ringer.

When I hear that noise it will mean I am leaving home.I will be in the world writing a story of my own.

One

Two

Three

Pause, wait

Pull, look.

Four

Five

Six

Almost

Come here.

Seven

Eight

Nine

Stop, stare

Pull me

Please

No

Turn

Look back

At me.

Nine

Eight

Seven

I am

Stuck here.

Six

Five

Four

You are

Gone now.

Three

Two

One

No one

Will choose me

Darn.

I long for your touch

To caress my pages

And bring yourself lust

I was not printed for all ages

So I hope you are steadfast

And find me locked up in these cages

My author had a blast

With the characters hidden inside

For who could think of such a cast

With just a few words on my side

How do I catch your attention

As true love will only grasp you from the inside

~ADayDreamWriter

HA!

Look at this blonde over here

In her long, down feather coat

And riding boots, what a fad.

Her knit beanie is alright...

Sits on her head like a monkey

Holding onto a jungle tree

For it's damned life.

The sling purse is sort of cute

Made of the same material

That I'm made of, leather.

Although my color is better.

She's smiling, looks kind of young.

Has a rock the size of Africa

Sitting on her ring finger.

Let her stay by romance.

I like the crying people

You know, the

"If hope has flown away"

Sort of thinkers.

They are the ones who

Understand the words

On my paper organs

Inside my withering skin.

I'm old, unmarried,

Maybe even unhappy.

But I just like to believe

That happiness is a curse.

Smilers are not allowed

To be near me.

I take after my father,

Sadness is reality.

The blonde is looking at me

She smells like flowers

Oh God she's picking me up

Get your fingers off my dust!

"Edgar Allen Poe,"

The girl gasps,

"It's signed."

I smile.

Didn't know

That a book like me

Could be so special

After all.

Never judge a book

By it's cover.

I've been moved from my proper section, again.

This is getting absurd.

I've been at this sad excuse for a bookstore for ages. (Precisely 36 years, 5 months, 8 days, 12 hours, 34 minutes, and 48, no, make that 50 seconds).

If I have to move again I swear I'll perish.

Oh no. It's a tiny human.

Turn around, no no no do not come here.

Do not, no stop it.

It's touching me. 

I've reached my limit!

I may vomit my pages out, I feel so disgusted. 

Oh, lovely. I've just been ripped. This is the 185th rip now! I'm tired of it.

The grotesque being keeps touching me. Help, I'm being violated.

Oh, thank the author, I'm being put away. In the wrong place (does this look like the mathematics section you imbecile? No, it's the fashion section), but at least I'm not being handled so inappropriately.

Sweet relief, how good it feels. Everything is right in the world again.

I'm not in my proper place, my pages are ripped, but at least I'm not being abused by humans. 

My companions seem to adore them, constantly trying to catch their interests.

I don't see the appeal. I like my place on the shelf. I don't like being disturbed.

Not again, another vile human is coming towards me. If he approaches, I may just throw myself onto his head out of spite. And I'm a heavy book, so it will hurt.