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Charlotte Jun 2017
This isn't a lazy confession
I didn't sit down and decide about my life
I have no moments of striking clarity

This is just a four paragraph poem
That I wrote while high
About my minds puzzled nature
I can't ever decide

By this time I'm usually out of words
I can't find a rhyme
My life has been about mediocrity
And with that, I think I'm fine

But as poems go, I think a happy ending is desired
So yeah, sometimes a haiku catches me by surprise
On some gloomy nights I find a sweet song I'd like
Sometimes I read Neruda and I cry
Sometimes during nights like this I realise
That I do believe
Somewhere inside
  Jun 2014 Charlotte
mark john junor
i was sleeping sweetly
till i heard strange sound
trumpets of some deadly thing approaching
a november cold wind in her eye
she walked a shadowy figurine on storm wracked road
as she walked slow and deliberate dressed all in black
she held a dozen bones of a bird that flew
she held a dozen bones of a man that ran
none escape her hand
not in noonday sun
or riding by the fog bound moon in the night
you can find her stirring pestilence on cookfire
along the river road
with the mother of all decay for company
she asked me in a frail voice
what is it that you see...what darkness binds me
i said all manner of beast crawls your pale skin
all manner of shadow calls your heart home
i said you are a walking open grave
she smiled and brushed cold finger on my lip
promise of a deep kiss
that made my very soul shudder
that made me howl in heart deep terrors
fled that dark dream with its tastes of death
fled here to noon day sun
long as i keep the sun overhead
maybe ill see her comin and run
(why is death always cast as a man?)

— The End —