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 Jul 2014 jude rigor
Cas
Neon Death
 Jul 2014 jude rigor
Cas
In my
Neon Death
You held your gun to my head
And your finger rested on the trigger
And your intoxicated thoughts lingered
In the sober air within us
And the sinking sanity beneath us
Began to sink in the sea of our thoughts
And then my harmless bullets of words
were left in the silent of mind
Since you click the trigger
*And the golden bullet came flying out
 Jul 2014 jude rigor
fdg
day
 Jul 2014 jude rigor
fdg
day
just wondering if maybe i could be the small gust of wind that blows through your hair one day when you're happy
i'm not sure - i think this makes me sound creepy.
allegiances shift; those who once loved each other now hold tight to grudge. one reason, two reason, black sooty handprint slapmarks on the ***, on the face, on the chest, on the rest... raindrenched beauty translated into achy-bone-break loneliness beer ****** drug addictions constant fall from grace-- as if the void of action gave way to unnecessary criticism, phantasmal attack, reasons to judge as if it were anyone's place (everyone's place) and you can dole out the truth yet never take it when it's given.. the rain and the forest are so still and yet the rain eventually runs like blood, pools at your feet, leaves and branches like guts and wind like sharp-pain hack-coughs from the root of the solar plexus.. happy I left what it became in my mind, and yet (somehow) the bitter-blood still reaches out, plague-like, to tick the back of the mind and say: 'remember where you came from' 'remember who you were.'
an anti-ode to Powell River; the hometown that stews in unnecessary judgement and drug-fueled drama
 Jul 2014 jude rigor
m
it's funny how
your muscles have a certain memory of things.

like how you can automatically tie
your shoelaces without even thinking
because you've done it so many times,

and how you can play this one song
on piano without even looking
because you've played it so many times,

and you kind of just lived with it
for a short while.

so when you spend a long enough time with someone
your muscles start to memorize
every action they make like how
they breathe into your chest as if you were the only oxygen left
on earth,
or how they fit perfectly
curled up inside you, like it was what your body
was made for in the first place,
and your bodies remember each other,
every slightest touch
can easily be replayed.

and what's funny is that
i can still remember you
even after all this time,
my muscles still imagine you
next to me
and it's funny that
you're not here anymore
yet my body still knows
where your leg would wrap
over mine (just above the knee)
and it's funny that
i'll never stop loving you
because that's what my muscles
will never forget.
uhm so this is trending?
 Jul 2014 jude rigor
Overwhelmed
the problem of mortality is
that we will never know which
poem will be the last.
so we have to keep
making them,
better and better,
each one an improvement
on the last,
because we fear
that from the afterlife
(which all poets believe in)
we will read our last poem
and it will be about
something stupid.

like the futility of life
or the last poem we’ll
ever write.
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