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  Mar 2017 Aazzy
Mollywolly
You were blonde-haired and blue-eyed
I came to know this was what poison disguised itself as
Made up of a million broken pieces
And I swear to god you reduced everything else to a blur...
To absolute irrelevance.

You met my stormy skies and turned the greys into blues
And brought my racing thoughts to a crawl
Turned muffled cries into symphonies and shined the sun onto everything I did...
Everything I saw.

But in this stillness you silently disappeared
And my skies went from blue to wine-stained and the sand on my beaches turned to cigarette ash
You took the heart you created and the soul you introduced me to...
And left.

But I promise, had the poison not already killed me
I'd gather the ashes you shattered me into
And spend forever getting back to you for *one
Last
Sip.
  Jan 2017 Aazzy
C J Baxter
Watch this thought walk up the wall.
Watch the creepy crawly creature creeping higher.
His waste trails after him, sullying the paint.
Before long the whole room reeks.
Watch him watch you now as he sits on the ceiling.
Is this really how you want to spend your day:
watching your thoughts walk circles around the room?
You used to entertain yourself with lofty notions.
You used to write to some of the thoughts down.
Now look at you looking at some sickly creature,
and trying to find something to say.

Watch this thought form a cocoon.  
Watch the sleepy drawling creature sleeping soundly.
He is gestating, growing, becoming while you just sit there.
Before long he’ll be something more than you.
Watch him and listen to the sounds of change.
Is this really how you want to spend your day:
in envy of a creature who’s life barely lasts the whole thing?
You used to entertain yourself with clever colleagues.
You used to fool around with funny friends.
Now look at you looking at some sickly creature,
and trying to find something to say.

Watch this thought hatch from its slumber.
Watch the bouncing, buzzing beasty birthed.
His wings spread out and he flies down from the ceiling.
Before long he makes out of the open window.
You ask yourself: is this really how I just spent my day:
imagining a life instead of living my own?
I used to write poems, and I thought they were profound.
I used to tell myself that they might mean something to you.
Now, look at you looking at me looking at nothing in particular,
and try to find something to say.
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