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 Aug 2016
Dark Delusion
Waiting for the night to come.
Waiting for the light to disappear.
Waiting for the cold to make me numb.
Waiting for the thick mist to clear.

Waiting for the new day called tomorrow.
Waiting for the tears to dry.
Waiting for you to say hello.
Waiting for you born in gemini.

Waiting for the night to end.
Waiting for the darkness to die out.
Waiting for the sun to make me amend.
Waiting forever for you without doubt.

Waiting for the fear to hurt.
Waiting for the pain to ****.
Waiting for my world to invert.
Waiting for my sleeping pill.

I’ve been waiting for all my life.
For you to never say **goodbye.
i.

my nettles sting,
my mind dreams
of ghosts,
nothing seems
to settle
under that hovering
sky of wire.

ii.

lost to a broken civilization
in a sky of sighs
caves filled with
ice.

iii.

further than the sky,
further than the sea.

iv.

dreams like drowning
pools

the waving wind
the castles of the mind.


v.

shadows
unwinding
the slow pulse of
the earth,
like the battling
waves,
like the far, far
dream of a star.
 Aug 2016
Sjr1000
Always been a Peeping Tom
looking into the windows
watching the ******* move

the cozy lives unfolding


Eaves dropping on conversations
Wondering what people are talking about

Staring at people at work
their effort intense

Lives performed
soaring on whip saw winds

An apartment complex
with many units and addresses
every soul window there
a whole history in 3D
marching

Coming up for air
driven by curiosity

No eyes closed
gotta see

One more life
to witness.
Legend has it that Peeping Tom watched Lady Godiva ride by naked.
 Aug 2016
r
All of his letters ended in goodbye
instead of to be continued

someday we're all going to die
my brother, he would say

now he's got me saying the same
words like the moon and darkness
that only we could hear

he'd listen to the blues and sip whiskey
until morning, then wake me
from my sleep, tell me to go out

and cut the weeds
growing up around the stone
angels in the field.
 Aug 2016
Eloi
Am I crazy?
I see people, who aren't really there.
They talk to me, whispering things in my ear.

Shhh,
Don't tell anyone.
They'll lock you back up,
No discretion, but you just have bad luck.

They tell me I'm psychotic,
And dose me up on meds,
To make me feel "sane" again,
Their lies I will be fed.

But I've been there before, I've seen the road and I've been through the doors,
Seconds feel like years when you're in an asylum,
Your heart they will pour.

Don't call me schizophrenic,
Because I swear that I'm not,
I know the people that I see,
Were  once alive like me.
 Jul 2016
r
You know how you're down and out
on the river, three sheets to the wind,
doing some night casting, a little
moonlighting to pay off the bill,
and you decide, by god I'm tired
of drifting, I think I'll anchor here.

Me, I'm living on beer, boiled eggs,
and ruined mascara. Tonight,
I'll make enough to buy a roll of dimes
so she can play the box, so she can drop
them in the sawdust, on purpose
and lean over, oh me, oh my.
everyday you pick up the hammer
you hit on the head of the nail
words surround you madly clamor
you can't make head or tail.

rarely the nail penetrates the wall
oftener it breaks by the blow
all that's hidden inside the skull
more refuse than pour out to flow.

you drive the nail's head with your might
wishing it goes all the way
miss in the wrath to hit it right
fail in what you badly need to say.

the hammer gets blunt slows your hand
you are saddened no progress is made
on the next day the same place you stand
looking at the twisted nail's head.
 Jul 2016
r
"...a black woman
in a white house
built by slaves..."
MO: 7/25/16.
The revolution already began.
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