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I had to dip my feet in many bodies of water.
Looking for the correct idea to bath myself in.
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Slobbering grunts, drooling over pre-teen hostesses.
These Bravado's boasting egos
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Am I supposed to be happy stuck in limbo?
Like those adult films
Where you’re stuck between floors with a hot chick -
Papers pile in sky scrapper format. / Work loads heaped and building in dozer efficiency. / Fast paced sedimentary levels of to do lists. /
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Eyes inward bound / Cranium a cradle for throbbing / Glands tousle on wavering weights / Tension binds molars to jaw bones. / I need sleep
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She never loved me / Then again she never loved anyone. / Not in the sense of wife’s love for a husband. / Just the love of a seamstress an
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Clenched tight, jaws hinged and stuck shut.
Knowing what you want to say and powerless to say it. -
The Keys clash, cracking under the pressure.
Metrically measured tones slamming in succession -
They slip, like so many ideas before them.
Through the raw hands that failed to grip them. -
Sleek was the form you chose for yourself that night.
As if a cat freeze framed in the morning stretch.
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Second draft and just plane odd, but I think it's growing on me. 03-30-07
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Calendars annoy the living hell out of me.
Paper glossed in protective coating, slick and vacuumed packed.
All so I can’t smudge the days -
Transforming this casual demeanor, into a warped reflection
Mirror image of a double ganger, begging to misbehave. -
Of these minds behind eyes, gleaming passions within irises.
Distracting from refractions of bent images, from the shades that warp the ro -
Vixen’s arms licking the air apearing an infernoes tounge, dancing for no one and everyone.
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This is the second revision and I think it's getting better. I have long had a habbit of being wordy and long winded, so I hope this versioby Areader 49 lines, 8 comments, on Jan 17 1:59 PM 2007
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I the fool scribble these words for the sake of love.
Like so many jesters before me, I praised the lack & then the rush. -
I’m isolated in thought when I feel the pause…… in people’s voices.
That shift in tone and body linguistics trying to announce what’s not… -
I’m lost, and gone. Hollow and full of photographs of someone I looked like once upon a midnight in May.
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The pace is pain.
Step after step igniting nerves like propane
soaked tendrils crawling through flesh to brain. -
Bitterness imbibes bickering while cradling polite reservations.
Romance chokes on silent grievances as tongs twist with anticipation. -
So I think that whom ever coined the phrase “ silence is golden” must have labored a lifetime in a steal mill or bell tower.
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Constantly and consistently I empathies with a stunted poet.
Not because I consider myself a poet by any means, but becuase the phrasing w -
Unmotivated.
Un moving. -
A heart beating but barley breathing,
beaten, battered, calloused and torn apart.
Bruised from hoping and betrayed by a fairytale laced -
The Candle Named Today
By
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