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If I gave you my soul,
would you read each page.
Scribble notes of interest
and know me.
Would you take the time,
to help tape the seams.
Would you mend,
the fragility of my soul.
It tears and rips,
easily, emotionally.
I’m sodden newspaper,
heavy with time.
Mucky layers,
that pull apart in chunks.
Masking detail,
of stories of my soul:
Hymns of love,
transcribed in invisible ink.
Mastheads that yell,
like father did.
Fables of summer in the wood,
when I was a boy.
These are my columns,
my life.
Jason Drury Jan 23
I was drunk once.
Drunk on love,
drunk on ****.

I was drunk,
warm and full.

You were sober,
cold and empty.
Jason Drury Dec 2018
Make no mistake,
you reveal yourself at the bottom.
It's dark and cold,
your pale with black hair,
And **** yellow eyes.

You float,
in your prison.
Void of breath,
and golden rays.
Bringing life,
and color.  






You’ve hit bottom.







Below this,
you feel helpless.
As a trapped animal
waiting to die.

The weight I carry,
was all for you.
Now you left me,
at sea.
I’ve drowned,
months ago.






In 2018, I hit bottom.







Below this…
Glass like,
motivation shatters.
Further you fall,
into darkness.
Your voice,
no longer ripples.
Let it take you.









How much further?








With struggle,
I can’t sink like a stone.
There are souls,
who need me.
Your hand pulls,
me down, it's heavy.
I kick you,
I punch you,
I struggle,
to let you go.
Your grip is,
loose and careless.
Like the past three years.

With a swift kick,
I am free.

I


Let


You


Go
Jason Drury Nov 2018
On this day,
of 35 years.
Humbled by,
the cycle of death.
I place my foot,
on sodden wood.
Embracing,
the November wind.
It's cruel and nips,
at my blue fingertips.
There is something,
new and also blue.
That pushed me out,
into the deep cold sleep.

Your eyes.
Jason Drury Oct 2018
You pushed me,
off course.
Gray fog resentment,
clouds the stars.
Remote and far,
in my own mind sea.
As distant as summer,
in autumns eyes.
I’ve sailed far,
so far I can no longer,
remember your face.
Jason Drury Oct 2018
Bird on the wire,
your soul connected.
Your flock is close,
but far enough.
The distance you keep,
protects from societal envy.
You sit on the wire,
the highest one.
You sit tall,
far from judgement,
far from the road, the path
all others take.
Bird on the wire,
you see what's coming.
Not the future, no,
but patterns of intellect,
like a jigsaw of events.
Bird on the wire,
you're alone.
An outcast beyond,
the flock.
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