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 May 2020 Michael Stefan
Shrika
Unfinished notes,
Unheeded lessons,
Distracted mind,
Stolen glances,
Fantasies in the day,
Dreams at night,
Chasing a lost cause,
Lovelorn.
Two years later,
I’m still only two benches away from you,
Yet you are a thousand miles away.
I love art, reality engraved.
I love who creates, point-blank like a gun,
pressed against the temple of an overachiever.
I seek the masses to watch my brain rain over your brilliant minds.
Overwhelming and bloated, I feast on your works of art.
© JDMaraccini 2014
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