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jnh 5d

the hum of the white noise
i'm sorry

my heart broke
(yours) and

life is hum hum
humming away hmm
i am always thinking

dreamers only live
for as long as they can
then they become

black dust ash silicon rock

deposit my dreams into
a dried-up river,

into the abyss where
i can hurt no one and
no one will hurt me
jnh May 28
if you have one person that
loves you for you, then luck
is on your side today i feel
the cold wind drifting through
my window, floating calmly
into my hair and nostrils and
there is nothing more peaceful,
not even two apple candles
sitting on a white ledge, scent
of cinnamon and liveliness
open not internal not closed
off like a safe, things are always
so private but nature isn’t like that
and we are natural, so how have we
turned ourselves against each other
and battered our trust into stomped
tin cans on the streets? I think I’m
too translucent don’t ever ask me
how I feel it’s not even a question
you’ll see it right on my face I love
you I hate you and I'm everywhere
in between, never settled always
drifting, **** normalcy ****
pretending, **** the things I can’t
change: I don’t want to live a life of lies
like some clown in face paint
showing everyone the pretty colors
when it’s dark dark inside.
It’ll be less dark if I could
accept and express, and so I
took a walk today down the
empty road, it was just me and
silence and the breeze that
moves with me and I felt
all the love that was missing
for a while and then it left
as I sat down on some abandoned
bench and I pondered my faults
and guilt washed over me like
waves crashing down on rocks
except I am not a rock, I am
the sand that is moving into
cold water breaking: see how
I drift and rise and then
come violently down? I guess
you can only fight gravity
for so long.
jnh May 12
gone with her are my heart and art.
my words no longer can reassemble
into languid phrases of such
sweet viscosity: tell me, what use is
depth and rhythm when I see
the loss of her in everything, in
trees skies a child mumbling on the
streets soft voice like yours with his
letters loosely leaping off a light
tongue with that uncaring freedom
I had once found with you, but
now my expression is a fallen soldier
and I cannot lift my swollen eyes
off of the ground
  Apr 26 jnh
John Destalo
we sit.  on a branch.  of knowledge.  investigating truth.  we hold hands.  we kiss.  we laugh.  we create.  a philosophy.  a shared way.  of being.  a religion.  with one doctrine.  everything we believe.  
is open.  and free.
jnh Apr 26
to still be up at this ungodly hour is
the best gift God has given me today
for i am never alone even in moments
of dreary solitude, and as long as i
could see a stretch of black expanding
sky, i can see what Bukowski said
about there always being somebody,
somewhere, waiting for you—hey, i
think i’m lucky then! i've got nowhere
to be, nothing to do, idle waiting is
what my nocturne is all about—

but in the meanwhile, i’ll
sing a song of silence for the one
who’ll break it.   and i'll conjure up
brilliant    scenes like the two of us
over coffee, or    maybe at a bar   if this
person would like   a drink, there’s no
pressure, it’s just me and      a shadow
for now anyways, until that time comes and
i could fill in the blanks, take a pen
and draw in a face, i'm just counting on
the ink to last, no smudges on the
canvas please
for poetry month
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