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Knuckles go white as I grip my rescue flair
Read the warning through a blinkless stare
Pressed the thing tightly to my temple,
Count to three,
To keep it simple
Hold very still,
Steady as a thimble
'Till the very last second
Pull away on the second e in "one, two, three"
And release it to the night air
At least tonight the fight's fare
I can't make it to there
If I don't end this right here

©2024
one small tweak
a quarter turn

one stuttering prayer
answered
But lately
What I've been crying most about
Is myself
The person I used to be and lost
And the person in the present
With no clue about his future

@nukethelizards
<>>
Jan. 13, 2014
<>

a  flawless poem

if such there were,
will always be,
the next one

my poor soul,
my rag tag heart
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy spent, easy get

if only, how I wish I
could harvest my best,
with golden cutlery excise
the single flawless poem,
that I know is in my possess

lay down this hand so weary
from cupping tears,
be satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that when my casket lowered,
hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best, easing his rest,
a paper record to join his dust
with ash,
his flawless poem,

at longest last
you think it's cruel
how quickly I forgot
about you
and when I remember
to think of it
I think so too
if no one stays
it's a lifetime of
Object Impermanence
baked in by nature
but nurtured by others
including you
there was thing

to write about

yet

i forgot

it
There are 1,000 sorrows
between the front gate
and the back door.

They each have a name,
the same way
each fiber of a carpet
and each grain in wood
have a purpose.

I introduce myself to them
and introduce them
to their matching
1,000 joys

and watch
as the world
is born
I've gently kissed,
Earlobes
I've placed my fist
Through drywall

I ate one meal
A day
I drank enough for
Two

You'll never catch me
Lying
Though, I seldom
Tell the truth
Hello,  I am a puddle person.
I'm certainly not the only puddle person, of course.
And I often think I'm more puddle then person.

I lay on the floor still.
People come by and see themselves reflected in me.
Sometimes they step in me,  and drops of me splish around and evaporate.

I'm content being a puddle it's, comfortable.
People are aware of me whether looking at themselves, tip toeing around me or jumping in.

I am NOT invisible.

Love me or hate me this puddle person isn't going anywhere,
until I become more puddle then person.
fewer scars
faith in stars
and a slight will to live!

an addiction came and left
I'm told its for the best
though, now I have no friends.

to my surprise,
and his demise,
I'm now in love with a man!

things aren't great,
but times are better
and I think I'm here to stay.
this is a little depressing but I still found myself laughing throughout? I'm in a better place than 2015 for sure.
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