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 Oct 2024 beth fwoah dream
Bones
My alarm clock breaks
The numbers freeze forever
Time stops for us both.
The first glance

Unsteady, unsure

One beautiful smile

One thoughtful flutter

Godspeed you butterfly!

She comes to my shoulder

And pins a rose on me

She leaves a note

She lifts the net

But wants no words to her song

She is from November

And I am from snow

We stand together

And everything is new
I have things I absolutely cannot do.
I swear it is not a lie but 100% true.

I cannot message strangers online.
Have caused trouble time after time.

I cannot be alone near fire.
Please don't ask why.

I can only watch certain shows.
Everything below TV14.

I can not walk around alone.
Need someone with me.
And the steam is gone,
Clean now — everything.
But the tub.
Dirt days and dirt of the day
Ring around the tub,
Stays, a conjunction,
And, but, Baby is gone with the water.

We notice the dirt, the after bath aftermath,
Or I notice the dirt, because it is just me,
And the steam is gone.
Draining is slow:
A clog of pocket watches;
Lovers’ tresses;
First communion necklaces;
And flecks of sparrows’ wings.

The sparrows know better,
Bathing in the sand, brake dust,
The gutter grit.
The irons,
Dirt-day rings around my ankles, a conjunction.
Too fettered to flap like the sparrow,
To shake-shiver filthy clean.
 Oct 2024 beth fwoah dream
matt r
birds feast on daybreak
worms; threads of song borne from dirt
salvaged as dusk wind
 Oct 2024 beth fwoah dream
Moo
We grace the sky by keeping sane and alive,
So it's not protecting a barren land,
And retains it's purpose,
Although my lifelessness would encourage,
A deserted deceased body,
Over a lifeless one,
Do I have the right to despise the tarnish in the monsoon sky?
The flowers and rain,
The ceaseless beauty of this land makes me sick,
Neither am I right full to chase it nor have it,
I have been bleeding while only noticing the beauty of my blood,
With its throbbing pain going unnoticed,
Because it's all I have been allowed to see,
My nature propells me to admire what I see,
My feeble cry of destain,
Abolished by the thundering sound of the rain,
I have successfully pursued your hate,
Yet,
I am not satisfied.
 Oct 2024 beth fwoah dream
Pax
how i missed those
people who planted
little seeds in my heart.
seedlings to trees.
i have converse with alot of poets here in HP and WC. Though my brain might forget, the feelings they've given me lingers... YOU/they know who they are...
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