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What is this hocus
With a pen?
I cast your focus there,
Upon a prec'pice -
I'll push you off,
Into the pathos
I have quaffed.
By the cadence of my steps,
A jilted lover shall know death.
And if in morning she shall wake,
She'll know her lost And lonely mate.
We trail and trek,down unto doom,
In lengthy night and shortened noon
We Lovers hold each others hearts,
And trip,and choke,
And break, now hark:
The cadence comes, hers matches mine,
We cuckold be: by loves fair shine,
Know only bends and shattering,
And we grow tired, wait,and see.
I'm nearly catatonic.
My eyes shift spasmodic in their sockets.
They're closed, and it's far too quiet
for the racket ripping my inner eardrums.
Reliving the sound of grim acceptance.
Slack faced,in the blackness.
"I guess this is it".
I said it then. And I say it now.
  Didn't make a terrible difference,did it?
Gifted quesarito wrappers are
halfheartedly crumpled in the floor.
I was dead, I died, I'm dead once more.
Thick ticked scratches crash across all silhouettes
Flickers of faces and vestiges of voices,
Who aren't quite people yet.
Rustle the pages, turn as I write
Blistering, shimmering, radiantly white.
Nothing to nothing,
It comes and it goes.
Traces,and ages,
And nodbody knows.
Spinning,and sinning.
Trying to retreat from a repeat.
I need to be revived but so far only get deeper sleep.  
summer shimmers from a subtle spring.
I cascade into the evergreens.
Their color and my squalor are the only things that never leave .
I'm trapped in my labrinthian mind
Attempted Rehabilitation has shaken me into self delusion
My submission is to seclusion
I'm cut off from my self in entropic confusion
Inevitable walls rise at emotions first mentioned
Truths I've obscured through divisive contention
I argue with my self. . . no I don't.
Its hard to pull myself apart
But I must
Divide my sins to see my heart
what gravity, and where has the gravity gone?
when yesterday a new year dawned -
I asked myself this question,pained,
and answered with the things i've done.
I blame myself for our pummelling decline,
though in part, it be yours beside -
i could have, but didn't-and did, but could not have -
many things that made the difference.
And i lay there, wondering if ever i would feel as heavily entwined,
as when first your gravity became mine.
and feared - that never again - should i be tethered -
by the few invisible tines that held me to this mote of dust
I fear free fall, up into the sky.
And all i can do is lay here, and fight the lies, while we cry.
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