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Karlie Watson Jul 27
San Fransisco, I’d been here plenty before, but the embers of the city that glowed faintly in mind we’re made up of imagined scenarios I’d lit in my head, a bonfire glowing in the future I dreamed existed outside my parents house.

Now July has come, and I had long ago left the room of my parents house behind, and I  had spent the last year experiencing dreams in my waking life in a mountain town.

But in July, the bonfire of San Fransisco, that had become embers in my mind, roared right before my eyes and I walk the city streets, awake in a world of made up dreams, that keep me thinking I’m asleep, and waiting to awake, standing knee deep in my waders, in a river or stream in the mountain town I had to let go.
  Jul 26 Karlie Watson
we can't go back
to where we were
but please know
that my silence carries
happy memories and
wishful dreams
for a life i still
want to share ...
even when i say
nothing at all
Karlie Watson Jul 24
Living feels like  I’m constantly raging against the nothingness of existing,
like I’m living with all the bounds of humanity, that mean nothing,
to find a purpose to waking up, and breathing and being, other than slowly dying along the way.

And I spend all my energy trying to build a bridge between the duality of life and death, that constantly keeps me a raging builder and an awful architect.
Karlie Watson Jul 23
Please no more sunlight.
Bring your thunder,
Make the sky quake with your wonder.
I am your earth to Pilage and plunder.
  Jul 22 Karlie Watson
i adore cold weather.
But not for the fires,
Or the warmth of another person.
I find something beautiful about it,
And maybe even a bit lonely.
It reminds me of bittersweet loss,
And finding the strength to move on.

i watch, from my window
as the winds begin to pickup
off the bay, to rise and swirl
in clouds of dust and speck
gritty and pinging through the eaves
of this old house, forever battered
and weathered year and year
from storm after storm but still
regardless of the storm or the season
i watch, as the power lines whip and crackle
like strands of tormented licorice, as the lights
in the room, flicker off and on, i prepare
myself once more for the onslaught that is natures
way of giving everyone the *******, and still
i cant help myself, i take the abuse and i watch

by Michael Perry
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