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Michael W Noland Feb 2013
The blood that thinned upon shared breath, has thickened only to thin again, as she reaches for the creamer.

*****.

How dare she, be so beautiful, right as the sutures are removed.

I will just poke my bruises, as i spell her name into mine, unto the darkest, and loneliest of nights.

Complete.

With extra cheese, and colored lights.

Wherein is a sight, of a love, that forebodes from above myself.

That giggles as it grins, before reaching its hand out.

The doubt depleted.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
Cars were parked all over the yard, with rusted parts, and chipped paint, that gave way to faint brown sprays on jagged window frames.

And where the oil puddles turned the tall grass grey, a trail was made that lead the way, to the house where the bodies laid.

Stripped of clothes, and filleted in droves, they were posed in ways i couldn't explain.

He used a hammer to remove the teeth, and neatly sawed them into pieces at the creases, as he dumps the clumps into a drum of something acidic, before pouring it down the sink, where he swiped the fodder, and runs the water until clean.

He then places the teeth on sheets of torn cloth that he bundles up, and stashes up in the loft, before heading off for the street, to repeat his play, to the piece, so his dreams can seep into your day.

He was a hitch hiker, having his way.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
A twisted heap, protruding from a creek, as its slowly sinking, the water gushing over the screaming, i walked on by seeing nothing, as i ascended a trail with a hanging man in a tree, waving and jerking his feet, shaking the whole tree, as i walked away, through a pasture glazed in a fog, where a farmer was caught under a tractor wheel, he yelled for help, as i knelt, to tie my shoes, adjust my headphones, and continued my pursuit of chocolate milk.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
If time is of the essence, and our time to live a blessing, I'm guessing death to be a stepping stone for a patience born in its testing.

Merely resting, amongst the rested, as they are collected in the pull, only one will make it, and still know of the blessing stored in its form.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
No one is ever home, and i knocked for awhile but got bored.

I even looked upon the lords and was largely ignored, so i forged a new line in the sand, and made better time, as everyone else contemplated their stance.

I have better chances alone, against the oncoming storm, and i no longer have a gun, as i have vowed to help the ones i hate, as i stumble in the grace of the time it takes to replace these friends of mine that i have made while trying to play nice.

Silence is no longer a disguise while every one is talking, and its obvious that that's all anyone does, with hollow meanings, demeaning the trust we claimed in the love, and it has proven to be too much, as i hang on the empty words, praying that the curse is dispersed across the sea for the stars to read the ***** versus of the creeds, inscribed in scribbles that ripple into cursive versus from ancient servers to another dream.

I close my eyes to wake, but still asleep, i just hope i learn something cheap to pass the day, wide eyed and unblinking, i get to thinking that i make my fate, that reality is shaped from my attitude, and that only the absolutes that are believed to be true can be true, so in knowing nothing i can pursue the untruths of my disbelief and we can be in unison even when all over the place.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
I am in a city of admirers admiring admirers, a city cloned from a rough sketch, that has been traced in disappearing ink, a producer of diluted DNA in its quoting of the quotes within the tattoos across its face.

Its people walk in pace like sheeple, but at-least the sheep have their fur, as the people scurry in synchronicity from the burr.

Its cold outside, and getting colder.

Ill stand right here, and observe.
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
It is the moments in which i must shake my arms in an overwhelming happiness that i love the most, and it is the moments after the moments are gone that i loathe most of all.

But it is all the moments that make the trail that brings you to where you need to be, paved with every tear, every love, every sneer, and every sincere apology.
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