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Kinetically charged storm clouds gather next to searing neon billboards
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Water rushes forward in the dawn breaking sunshine caressing weeping willows
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I seek nothing of the open road
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Soulless in the far east reflecting that sunrise glittering against my scratchy eyes, no longer the exception but the rule, no one to blame or lynch, saints joining sinners for sandwiches under the bridge in downtown Harlem
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exposing nerves still pumping my heart beat to my brain feeding dialysis machines pushing morphine through the sewers
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coat hangers dance in morning haze
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misty carbon spills out from chapped lips gone crispy from a long night spent sucking in stagnate air seeping out from vents, clipped toes
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Stars appear hazy in my neon dream like state; your habit brought us out at 2 in the morning, the pines hide salesmen blowing steam whistle
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is it to leave something behind? so those unlucky blokes will find something interesting to place as epitaphs on their son's graves after they've come back from the wars?
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homogeneous though you may be, you stay up all night to light my way; and they say nothing comes of forced conformity, not only that, but your a great listener, like a man of the cloth robed and collared, wrapping yourself in
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Screams ricochet off buildings in the cold moonlight, listening for sirens or bangs on the door, neither come to fruition, futile dreams fl
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welcome to a new kind of silence, gibberish surrounds me like a unwanted radio station, distorting as we pass the state line...
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waves lap rocks as crabs hold tea parties with frigid water and kelp, your hair spread every which way invites me towards the arctic sea...
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sirens lend their sampling to that night's orchestra, creating a light show for all to see and tell the father son and holy ghost; as if th
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at first there is nothing but silence, gasps are swallowed up in noiseless amazement, the sky screams static, the rain evaporates before hi
by Amergin
11 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 30 7:18 PM. In Life, Nature, Other, Pain, Society, Thoughts, Dark, War, Humanity
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masochistic cellar door...
by Amergin
0 lines,
on Aug 30 1:21 AM
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you lived once inside a yawn, a lukewarm bath at a nursing home for the blind, deaf, and mute, you flew through pages of Scarlet Letter gen
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Dark magenta's color floors and ceilings, hands precisely tune out pale blues and fiery neon scarlet sails, that catch the wind in it’s wandering…
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Dear fates of asphalt and smoke, I’ve decided to trade tires for flowers, and streetlights for stars…
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memories of solid ground invade my dreams, juxtaposed around your face, I wake to the smell of salt and my own sweat...
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feet step out in front of each other, a blond girl in a jean jacket, walks by the shore all alone...
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Honeysuckle fills my head dreamily, starlight shimmers across cooled pavement, somewhere a man’s playing guitar to his wife, reminding her
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early June spills her chilled breeze through the window and my lungs, it's 2 AM and I catch myself writing love poetry to the wrong girl, w
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flowers stir in expectation of the coming dawn, it does not come, overcast forever, you've given up on hugs and writing love on her arms, i
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rodents run forward down a drain, fasting till dawn, I follow the lines in your legs, as they connect seamlessly with your smile...
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can't see your face through this digital screen, it depresses me, your muffled chat-speak filtered by big brother and sororities...
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my poem escapes me; it slithers round the table, and tumbles down the stairs, I follow it with my eyes as it twists the doorknob and leaves
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