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I had not told you of  this, not yet,
Until now, when it returns clearly,
Within the timelessness of interior life.
A month to the day and the memory,
Abides in its own identity, being itself.
                          
Into this now familiar unboundedness
Came a new and exquisite presence,
A force field tenderly embracing me -
Just along the edges of my seated form.
Unmistakably you. A quiet certainty.
How could I know? But I knew.
As it dissolved, a light of the palest green,
Took its place, glowing a blessing.
                        
Breathing became the intake of bliss
made into the finest substance, and
I was renewed, visited, complete.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Rockie May 2015
Look at this apple.
Rosy and round and seemingly perfect on the outside.
Until you get to the core.
All brown mush and mould;
It's rotten.
*****, stinking rotten.
Don't ever look at the inside again;
That way, you won't feel quite so guilty
About the neat exterior.
Because the way the apple is,
Is not how the apple really is.
Rotten.
Zead May 2015
The suitcase
After unzipped
Was thrown off a cliff
While all were blindfolded
And obligated
To only hear the sounds
My girlfriend an' me
live together,
in an apartment.
1993
17th Jun 2014
the smoke is haunting me
like a little prey
I'm it's prey
slave of the doubt
witness of the warning
pain redemptionist

inhaling the smoke
putting all the poison inside
to **** the anxiety of the outside

breathing like there's no end
inhaling the smoke
looking proud
feeling superior

smoking
coughing
breathing
inhaling
*repeat

— The End —