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Michael Sep 2018
Complicated words, drawn out phrasings.
Lines that flow like water and perfect pacing.
Truth from the heart, no more, no less.
Converted into art, forged without rest.

Your tongue is a hammer, nailing bars into place.
Ornate articulations to fill out all the space.
Between every line is a moment of awe.
Study it well and remember it all.

Maybe some day you'll take center stage.
You skipped the last step, so now you read off the page.
They applaud you in dim light, you make your exit.
Raise your head high, now you're in orbit.
Michael Jun 2018
It's been so long since we've been here.
You've been clean for months.
You faught against your fear,
But now you've had too much.

A syringe filled with syllables.
A sharp tongue is your needle.
Tie your mind off steady.
Inject your prose with hate.

Don't let this control you.
Don't let this consume.
All of this is temporary,
I trust you'll seen this soon.
Michael May 2018
Imaginary people,
riding imaginary lines.
With infinite ends,
and finite time.

Involuntary measures
take place in their lungs.
Locusts burrow deep,
each breath is a hum.

A cadence of cicadas
behind every word.
This truth will save us:
No truth have you heard.
Michael May 2018
I am a punchline best told by a man with a stutter.
Michael Apr 2018
My focus expands
With the sorrows of those around me
And in their despair I discover
It is not only my eyes that see
Michael Apr 2018
Time is the fiddler
        and we were born to dance.
Michael Apr 2018
A plague that begins in breath and ends the same.
A sickness draining fortitude, a bead in my brain.
Swallow hard, many hours remain.
The tick of the clock tocks in vain.
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