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  Aug 2016 Aisling Spellman
I am sick
The sky is green
My stomach turns inside out
Your words are yellow
I can't avoid them
My skin is orange
My eyes are black
Black like I'm wearing shades but I'm not
It's black like a rotting banana that's leaving a smell
Attracting attention
I'm chain smoking through days
Not liking the taste
Coughing up deconstruction
Collapsed stomach and lungs
I'm sick because
I'm unravelling like a golden thread
Like a tent full of birds
Until there's nothing but purple left
Hands wave from a train I need to be on
To stain me velvet red
To mix me yellow
And to dye me brown
Like they want to plant a garden in my fingertips
And write a novel on my skin
About strangers and fumbling for wrists to hold like the world is empty
Hands that make you fall from your graces
About walking into a bar and finding God
About sunshine falling from the gaps between teeth
  Jul 2016 Aisling Spellman
You are like shards
Of broken glass
That I am still picking out of my skin.

Everytime I think you're gone,
I shift a little
And feel more pieces of you
Working their way in.
I love you

because I have paid the price

you are

cj 2016
there was nothing simple about the price that was paid...or the value of us    to the One who paid it
It is not great men who change the world, but weak men in the hands of a great God...

Oswald Chambers
  Jul 2016 Aisling Spellman
Waters pour
From clouds on high
Restoring life
To a world so dry

I long to be reborn
Like the grass and grain
So I kick off my shoes
To dance with the rain
  Jul 2016 Aisling Spellman
i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.
  Jun 2016 Aisling Spellman
Words **** like bullets they say
But so does silence
Ten-word poetry
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