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 Feb 2018 absinthe
George Anthony
i am sorry
for the bruises under your eyes
i'd say i wish they were mine
but we wear the same sleepless wounds
pretending all is fine;
there's blood in your mouth,
your tongue tastes like copper
it's like kissing pennies
but far, far softer.

i am sorry
this is not the life you were promised,
baby eyes wide with wonder
as your mother's words tried for honest;
i wonder if she knew
what the world would bring unto you,
the things your father would do,
the ways his friend would ruin you
all the wasted love
and all the terrible tears
looking at the sky above,
empty bottles counting the years
 Aug 2017 absinthe
-5/11 5:48PM-
I’m sorry, goodbye.

-5/11 7:03PM-
I miss you.

-5/11 11:54PM-
I miss you.

-5/12 12:02AM-
I miss you.

-5/12 12:23AM-
I miss you.

-5/12 2:34AM-
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you. I miss you I miss you i miss you I miss you.
I love you.

-5/12 7:15AM-
I miss you.

-5/12 6:44PM-
I miss you.

-5/13 8:12PM-
I miss you.

-7/03 1:31AM-
I loved you.

-7/26 5:16PM-
I miss you.

-12/31 11:59PM-
I miss you.

-01/01 12:00AM-
miss you.
 Feb 2017 absinthe
Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
This place made from our love for that emptiness!

Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.

Praise to that happening, over and over!
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.

Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.

The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw
blown off into emptiness.

These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning:
Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

Words and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.
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