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lX0st May 2020
A distant dissonance
Deepens in threat
As my lips form new syllables
And fingers, new frets
It’s my grandmother’s voice—
My namesake, in fact—
That waltzes in echoes
Through bright chambered chest
Amassing new power
Revving dense to unfurl
Like peonies in bloom, or
Cherry blossom pearls
In descent.

It’s true:
That for which I’m meant—
Good time,
Good fortune,
Good riddance—
I will only know
After roared repent
Where I’ll expel
Dusk’s detriment,
And bellow soul’s
Percussive song
In long-overdue
Performance
lX0st May 2020
You should’ve spoken up
When you talked down to me
Instead you split my soul
Spitting endless inbetweens
And now the spool spins heavy,
Wiry untouched runaway dreams
Where the railcar always passes
Just a moment out of reach
lX0st May 2020
When the day’s sweat
Is swilled away by
Weeping gold sage
Spilling reasons
To stay
But instead
Sweet stone remnants
Crack and concave
Filling impermeable
Graves
Gone cold

Tell me,
What is left to hold?
lX0st May 2020
It’s Tuesday, I think
Glass windows share few stories
In grey. The sun hasn’t found
An opening
Between my blinds
In days
***** dishes hardly inhabit
The sink. I wash them every chance
I get. It feels good to know
What to do
With my hands

It’s new day, I think
Curtains drape
In heavy embrace. I wonder
What warmth lurks behind them
That can’t be found
In my drink. Fluids slosh
And swell
In ambers beneath my skin
I wring my wrists of goodbyes
So bereft. It feels good to know
What to do
With my hands
lX0st Apr 2020
Pressure is destined
To grow like horns
Until diamonds and opals
And emeralds form
Such beauty lends to liberate,
But pressure does a cloaked wing drape:
Forging gems to foreign shapes
Fusing faces and facets, interlaced
Until dimmer does the mass reflect
The silhouette of pressure’s deft
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