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I was thinking about Aries
Did you hear, we can get married
To Him? and I hope you do
You and your new husband
We found out about you...

Back then, things were simpler
Now, laying on a different couch
But in the same spot
That we made out
Fourteen years ago

I was thinking, and I was going
To penetrate you in my mind again
It's something that we never did
****, fourteen, we were fourteen
Our bodies they were fourteen

And I am a responsible adult
Thinking alone to myself

But tonight we'll lay in spoons instead
I will not disturb
Dare not disturb your purity
I am your friend
From all the way on Mars
And technically I'm lying to you
Just don't forget me.
It's the sharp smell of saturated soil
Watching a puff-chested robin pluck a worm from the earth.
Violet tickled feet hop the spring marsh,
And sharp yellow trills sound like the nearby
Rambling brook.

They come along in mostly threes and fives.

Time ensconces her like petals.
Scrolling through one life we see
Petals wrapping left, or right:

Flying forward, hear the chickies cheeping
She feeds their yawning beaks a worm
The cowbird, now, she's noticing

Rustling petals tell their story:
Macon is her winter home.
The southern air smells slightly sweeter

Flipping through the days and seasons
Petals welcome blackened fruits
The fetus of inimic feature
Is pregnant with shadows of the past.

It's how her collapsing body made room
For everything that has been.

And heading eggwards, backyard feeders
Summers spent in Pennsylvania
Followed rounds and first palms ever...

Waketh I, to pungent earth!

Baby robins are good-natured
I suppose in life, they must commit some grave crime
So say to all these blackened fruits of mine:
Trophies for participation.
Help me down into my place
Be the wet-nurse of my
Your happy sun seed fills me with gray life and terminus
How deep my darling goes, to the anchor where it stops her soul
You can be parade of motion and waving around your expressions
But right now it's a wedding that you don't want to attend.

The orange light looked sickly on the concrete, dust debris
Others might unwind here but the orange chokes Mind
Little rocks and bolts and shards of wood in radiation
Perspective crashes awkwardly on the inside of your Eyes

Copper pipes where a flippant thought breaches
The impalement scrapes the vertebrae, clicking it goes up
Feel it in the base of your skull and in your jaw

Lush green of the grass is dark at sunset
Children passing by they like the sun their clothes are neon
Pink and green, you feel like such an ugly freak
How different things are now, where that sky is coming down
You look up at the sky, paranoid and obsequious
I ripped my monkey suit.

No one understands you as the patio raises an eyebrow
The angels have their thoughts which do make sense but still you differ
Sound of tires on the gravel and you've seen enough of people
It's time ignition with no soundtrack make the pistons bring you home
Radio has sarcastic bite

So you do and slanted sunrays slice the summer air you drive in
Dusty denim crusty pleather ***** tube socks in your mouth
Takes a shower, cell phone sink table
Dripping, floral smell to wine, TV and lonely couch
To stroke it all to bed
I bear the child of ****.
I only want what you can't give me
The fissure grows in my wombless corpse
I am a man who is a cursed woman
Male genitalia are just selfish weapons

I bear the child of ****
It is not an ordinary child
It an evil thing that should not exist
When you are all perfect
My child and I are mistakes
Bearing a kind of impossible stigma

You always have your reasons but it's always unbased
The power you wield over me is out of place
Stop boasting, stop acting like you're stooping to treat me nice

I bear the child of ****
God's act of kindness was a selfish thought
I never wanted everything I got
I bear the child of ****
I bear the child of ****
I bear the child of ****
I really don't mean offense to any woman who has carried a physical child from ****. I am willing to hear out any complaints but I do not regret the poem
When it tucked me into bed
Was there a knife behind its back?
Warm the blanket, weft and warp
The muffled screams of burning souls.

Processed glory, tried and true
Sewing sickness into you
To comfort you, o child
In that place to comfort you.
My ship wants to compromise low
Sail into storms for experience's sake
By physical law there lies some reward
In biding your suffering,
Rough hands take all.

My ship wants to float on top.
There's no sense in suffering, not for too long.
The rough hands of sailors
They're not like my own
I must be invested in some kind of throne.
My ears were made for writing songs
How do you tell a wall that it's wrong?
Hackney a mural of Satan and God
In bold, bright acrylic, and set it on fire?

The torment of this true mirage
Is twisting his mind in indelible nots.
She sacrificed her only pawn
To lose the game, a one for one.

I gnaw at my flesh, and gnash, and claw
To find the meaning, deep inside
To take a step back's to witness truth
The horrid act of self-mutilation

To write this all ensconced in grace
Is a sorry act, but why act high?
I've noticed these days, when I do
You're true, in flat resentment,
And nursing your patients as I pass by

But I'd still long for what I'm not
The wellspring of corruption sings
You seemed to me, one way at first
But life's not what it seemed to be.

And it's not what we would want to see...
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