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DSD Nov 2018
There is a poem
that I mean to write.
Not today -
maybe on a rainy Saturday in
late November.
When i would wake up early
just to watch you sleep.

When you would almost be there
- chasing through the maze of your dreams -
but not quite there.
Even now - When you aren't here
- a trace of you reaches out to me.
Across the chasm that separates us.

Your sillage
would linger around me.
A scent that I would have set to heart.
Preserved in the vacant spot
eager to receive it.

I would pick my moleskin.
That lies at my bed side.
And maybe then
I'll write  a poem that I mean to write.
DSD Nov 2018
Dispersed
between
sounds of teeth
grating against nails
is every word
I will ever say
drowned in
every word
I never will.
DSD Oct 2018
All year long
I procrastinate
until the cold
December air
is dense with the cries
of these neglected tasks

But the beginning
of a new year is light.
So much room
to push stuff back
to a later date.
A perfect time to write.
DSD Oct 2017
Religion comes first
Then science.  
But both die together
at the end of mysteries.
DSD Oct 2017
PIU
Intellectual over consumption under expression
A constipated mind needs cognitive laxatives
DSD Oct 2017
eternal selfie
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