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Down at the bottom of this hole
I worked so long and hard to dig
I can barely see the sunlight any more.

My feet are molding from the salty damp
That doesn’t come from rain
Or subterranean springs or rivers.

My shovel leans against the wall,
It’s wooden handle crimsoned
On the dirt that also isn’t paint.

Impossible for wind to reach me
Way down here, so what’s that howling
That I hear?  Could it possibly be me?
                ljm
My hillbilly Gramma used to get depressed and say she "Felt like crawling in a hole and pulling the hole in after her".  This is my version of that.
3
Three times nothing is nothing
Why do you keep going back
Haven't you had enough nothing
To last til forever and back.
                          
Sometimes we just never learn
on & off
where. does. it. stop.
oh,..how
youknowhowtokissme
,...so _.      slow
&
^^^^^^ in>>>tense
& yet
you
[ insist ]
i'm. not.
what you
#want
even _ as
you
| **** | in your breathe
& gasp your
)>>>release
My tongue; your
Pul - SE;
' ' nails
in my
~ ~ skin.
back/again.
Let{ting} go
,...let me
{in}
 Mar 2017 Andrew Name
aviisevil
oh, she
moves like a breeze

you'll forget
to breathe

and still
the aura won't leave

it'll linger
and it will freeze

a feeling
you can have
but never owe it

she'll turn any man
into a poet.
a writer must know of love.
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