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 Nov 2020 derailed-trains
ryn
Words from the maker,
we hardly could ever hear,

Bereft of love and attention,
we see the diminishing concern and care.

We still pour our hearts
into this bastion we’ve held so dear.

But, alas, the kingdom and subjects,
have fallen into neglect and disrepair.
When did HP become a broken shell, a faint ghost of what it once was?
 Oct 2019 derailed-trains
ryn
Chronicle these breaths.
And lay them naked
on paper - for the world
to see and judge,
like you know you should.

Dissect them...
With the sharpness
of your scalpel-like thoughts,
like you always would.

Fall in love with them.
Tag them with unspoken words
all too familiar.
Then cast them unto me...
When you finally know you could.
 Oct 2019 derailed-trains
ryn
Cut me loose

     from these strings

          that bind.


So I might again

     exercise the freedom

          of mind.
 Sep 2019 derailed-trains
ryn
Open mind

but closed doors.

Take my breath.

And make it yours.
 Aug 2019 derailed-trains
ryn
Taking in this breath.
My chest would rise to its peak.
And at its crest I'd count the seconds...

Shhh, I hear my heartbeats -
sure but muffled as if enveloped
by a heavy blanket of the quiet
in the night.

A beautiful sound -
this clock in my body makes.
Whispers promises of continuity,
possibility and hope.
I visited my girlfriend in the hospital
after her appendicitis operation.
she looked good
and her smile made me smile

"I made a friend," she told me.

There had been another girl in the room with her
and this girl,
she was in the hospital because she sprayed a whole
can of bug repellent into a cup and drank it

"Why?" I asked.

"Oh, well," said my girlfriend. "You wouldn't understand.
Let's just say she wanted to **** the butterflies
in her stomach."

"Okay."
He ate flowers.

this mentally challenged boy
from the countryside
I used to watch him
in the fields
when I visited my grandparents
as a kid
He was like an exotic thing
a wild beast chasing
static pray
They had no chance,
the flowers
he would assault them
with a killer's smile, frothing,
and would grab
and tear and rip them from
the stem and
would eat them

Nobody knew why
and the only explanation given
was that he was insane

then the men and women
who saw him would
scream at him
to stop and he would raise
his head and watch them
like a deer surprised by
headlights
Then he would spit the colorful
froth from his big mouth
and would run home
hopping and leaping like a horse
through the tall grass

He was mostly inoffensive,
this flower eating boy
but they all told me to stay away
from him and would
always chase him away when
he got too close

Time passed and I moved to the
city and went to school there
and stopped visiting the
countryside and its wonders
I got busy
and my busy life drove away the
magic and mystery of childhood

The flower eating boy is now but
a memory
neither good
nor bad
just strange, interesting

He doesn't eat flowers anymore
because he doesn't live in the
countryside anymore
No, from what I've heard
he's in some mental facility and it was
his last flowery meal that sent him there

I don't know,
maybe if they hanged signs with
"Don't wear flowers in your hair!"
around the village and the fields
that little girl would've been saved
and the village would still have its
magic beast.
 Apr 2019 derailed-trains
pioneer
death is a carousel
spinning; like the uneasiness
i feel as you calibrate
a bracelet towards my narrow wrist
with wooden horses as beads
while our gentle hands hold like nylon

it continues as the gears
like the choices we make
dance to the looped circus music
the acid in our stomach
react as we gallop through tragedy
just then we realize
if one of us steps down
the ride would be fun no more
but darling
it is time  
the coin has taken its toll.
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