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andrew-desantis
American
to home i head, alone: i'm down with pretending. it's been awhile since i've met a stranger, i forgot protocol. but i know me, i obsess too easily over what could be next week or the week after that immobile with fear, i tread into a new unopened door in the facilities of cohesive consciousness literally, to my knees i drop in fear fear of dipping out of my element spewing words i should keep to myself. i dont know you. i'm a stranger to you. something sown, silent seed shaking, surpassing solid sediment
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Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 3:58 PM UTC
Untitled
palatial secret agent moment lips read off-screen, character arranged by lifestyle, slowly fading. avoided contact verbal ornation ostented sense of power, some wit to be attained. taller than my fist raised, shorter than conscience kept thoughts lossless a human fault portrayed in flamboyant intricacy. breathe in fatal.
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Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
Untitled
10/04. I. tonight she finds herself left behind, choking on ashes. the light on the shelf where her picture used to be is burning out. and names left, here, to fade away. long ago, the river found its way to this house's front door. one year ago, a spirit departed not forgotten. in swollen memory, it's girls singing night thru the halls &echoes; behind a white door. (another voice has found its way into the resonance. the broken harmonies provide reassurance to the stories inside these walls.) II. girl stands in halflit doorway, singing songs of invention and disbelief-- candles on dim porches, tired cars, tired slaves. inside -- the walls breathe like accordions alive with her story. glory fades into whispers into silence, into dust. her heart radio (racing) playing the same track repeatedly. voices underwater, steady (harnessed) scent of black roses. don't tempt me, the silence. o sunstruck night, beaten. "it's here, follow." do you follow?
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:11 AM UTC
rsmp
i. unfiltered asiatic plaything seeks hypoactive cradle technocrat evicting meaningful poach, mendacious transcripts of past events found in his memoryless playhouse. poplar crowd scribbles observations outbound punch of laughter sighs to the scrambled, ethnic postgrad nation. microfiche telegram exploits meaning to deeper courtesies current surrendered upon entry. ii. psychotropic sustenance fizz thru ***** vein corridor secret mission lifestyle learning fast in enormous packs of tiny lies. spew logic chagrin mediated bloodstain; cerebus twitching outside of beingself. iii. heart ceases, sacred whitepaint moans. o infidel, strike thrice; a chord binding us- nasty, ***** beads bleeding rich. cloaked bushes tasting, hisses cured human oaks; tapered horns that sob, casting waved heels. iv. dawn fallen, only concrete possible now. separated by thousands of what is not, shocks disintricate; undwindling patriots mailing lessness, laughter sounds fetching offband pitch.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:11 AM UTC
iv
these are the veils that cover our tracks and the stories we told are lining our backs tolling, reeling, better than ever before he's leaving, refuted, too cold for the shallow shelter inside. now, carbon makes steel and the plains you meet melt for the pillars of the darkness that sounds the placing of dreams on the shelf you blanket your stares with your eyes, sockets contained in your lies, protecting your fears, committed, the drastic pulse on the tip of your star.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:08 AM UTC
4/14/07
we talked silently & without repose under the blood red sun of our sunken desire my eroding heart beating with each breath. & laughter - falling out of love & time i clench every word in my mouth red and seething down my face i can't find an excuse breaking the silence of the hyacinthic beauty its pristine value charged and buzzing at my hip
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
battlecry
i could use the stars as a shield and mask myself as a victim of the night and hold this silent breath aching to impose this fleeting cloud. i try to rearrange the pieces in this vast array of secrets swimming like beams of wonder through my shades of grey. i break the liquid skin of the firmament with touch of my narrow hands. it paints the fertile landscape black as i fasten myself with orion's belt.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
outside on swing, near 9
the power was never ours (we stole it from the neighbors). we took our war bonds and food stamps and gathered the family together toward the bus. once boraded we took roll. make sure no one got left behind waiting there (lost and slow to tie their shoe or...) later at the diner, i watched you break the bread. it was so beautiful in a sad, empathetic sort of way. you passed around the broken basket to the end of the table and back again. i didn't want to take my piece. i wanted you to have two; one for your hunger and one for your beauty. you could see that it meant a lot to me. you insisted i eat. later, at the ice rink, i told you what was on my mind. there were no words to pardon your reaction-- or even do it justice-- and i knew that it was good. you invited me in from the cold for some warm milk.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
the last extremity of war
toeing the line so delicately its forbidden fruit yr shirt around my shoulders and we're walking along the train tracks your golden skin glowing in the haze of summer storms come and gone brush yr hand along my jaw we're missing but we're almost found and i'm just crying out, "love me!" but you already do "kiss me!" but you already have and the sparrow sets its wing and a suburban summer dream is just beginning
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
a boy
instead of leaving you could find yourself broken like an artist who's trying his best to fly (i'm not always ascending but sometimes i'm smart enough to try) for the greatest pain of living could be the smartest pain to come by you could find yourself living inside of a dream cos heartache is healthier than it seems you are a derailed train and i am the mystery of the pain that's listening to every move you make that turns into bearing an almost child broken at it's wake.
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Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:41 AM UTC
almost child