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Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,

Sitting alone passing time,
Keeping it all together,
Put on a bright fascia,
Tell myself your almost home,

As minutes to to hours,
And mind running wild,
I cannot connect with you,
What could have happened,

Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,

The phone rings across the table,
Summons me to the hospital,
Arriving to find you asleep,
Sleeping but alive,

The nurse gives us some space,
Saying you won't last long,
You turn and look,
Broken and forced you whisper,

Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,

Never will I love again,
The pain cannot subside,
Love can only come once,
All else is hollow,

Life drags on,
Laying on my deathbed,
I can have but one thought,
Looking at you and whispering,

Closer closer,
I can't feel you yet,
Please save me,
Come closer,
 Oct 2016 Hadrian Veska
ryn
Painter
 Oct 2016 Hadrian Veska
ryn
The crescent moon be my perch.
        A bough from which I extend my arm.
Careful fingers grasp my brush...
And with it I shall fill the void
with the universe.                

               The crescent moon be my hammock.
Upon which I lean fully into,
to seek restful recluse.                
Should my body start to buckle...
        From the heavy hopes of wistful eyes.

   The crescent moon be my anchor.
From which I draw                
my inspiration and strength.
                   She would cradle and sway me gentle...
      When wilting hearts spill unto me
the callous wiles of the world.    

The crescent moon be my well.        
A fount through which my palette        
remains full with an                                 
abundant array of silvery white.        

Just so...                                 
I could conjure for others,
       what their hearts so desire.

Just so...                      
I could grant them       
             needed solace and tranquillity.

Just so...                 
                          I could infinitely paint for them
the stars...
 Oct 2016 Hadrian Veska
r
Bone moth
 Oct 2016 Hadrian Veska
r
Last night I rode
that dark train
through the hollows
of my childhood
on the black wings
of a swallow fleeting
beneath the eaves
of long ago evenings
where bone moths
were breathing
their last breaths
while dead children
slept well up the hill.
stress, stress, stress
exhausted and depressed
grey hairs popping up like weeds
not knowing where this path leads.
breaking out, breaking down
my mind is spinning round and round
hiding the bags underneath my eyes
and doing work that I despise.
crying, crying, crying
if I say that I'm okay, I'm lying
with hot tears streaming down my face
I feel myself falling behind in this race.
dying, dying, dying
my condition worsens with time
and with my immune system failing,
I head to bed with a sigh.

but I always manage to smile.
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