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Still stuck on the fence
Forced to traverse a world that still doesn't make sense
I could embrace the ignorance
But I don't want to take that stance
So I find myself stepping on toes during this awkward slow dance
I wouldn't call it happenstance,
Not a chance
The culprit is this toxic, three-way romance
Between anger, my dark passenger and everything I can't forget to remember
Nothing to see here folks,
At least not at first glance
And that's enough to keep me in this trance

©2024
iNNER THOUGHTS BECOME INTENSE
aS THEY PICK APART IT'S OWN DEFENSE
mAKING DOOM PREDICTIONS AT IT'S OWN EXPENSE
fINDING A NEED TO RELIEVE SUSPENSE
hENCE THE ARRANGEMENT OF LETTERS INTO WORDS THAT MAKE SENSE
tHE TRANSLATION ITSELF IS A JUMBLED MESS
tHE CRANIUM FEELS FAR TOO DENSE
wHAT IS THIS NONSENSE?
lOVE AND HATE IN THE SAME CONTENTS
rUSH TO TAKE OFFENSE
cAN NEVER GET IT OUT BEFORE  THE CRACK UP AND BREAKDOWN COMMENCE

©2024
फूलों सा नाजुक दिल‌ तेरा
मोती से साफ जज़्बात
दिन के मिजाज की फ़िक्र क्या
जब तू कराये सुबह का आभास।।
 Jul 2024 Maria Mitea
nivek
fragrancies to allure
to repel

invisible language
wafting around.
golden curtains and hard wood floor
longing and lightning

I dream a dozen roses.

I want to hear your voice
I need to feel you

sitting next to me, sister

i dream a dozen roses, beloved

and golden curtains touching the hard wood floor

I dream a dozen roses. little bird

your heart smiles,
angels and wings waiting

one spirit

I dream a dozen roses
white in color,
heart shaped
filled with hope

I dream a dozen roses,
are you still here
dear sister, Lisa?

surely

gentle spirit,
dear sister, Lisa

darling of light

I dream a dozen roses
Death's lipstick kiss
fire's breath and rain
in blood war's red mist
we pray stop the pain.
~
"Why is there only one chair in this room?"

"This once was an island." She replied.

"You favor this place then, I take it?"

"How can I not," said she. "The dawn here is quiet."

"Not on this floor, you are much mistaken! The stairs are like an avalanche."

Looking down at herself, she quickly changed the subject. "There are barcodes on each breast now."

"I see. Were you nervous?"

"Only when focusing on the morning break," She confessed. "Otherwise I was much like you--killing what keeps us alive."

"Is that so bad?"

"I wonder. Sometimes I still feel the bruises." She stated. "But I am told this is normal."

"What else did they tell you?"

"To quit worrying about not being built to scale," she stated in displeasure.

"...and?"

"For me to prepare to fall again for the apocalyptic things written in the sky," She admitted with a wicked smile.

"What's so funny?"

"I recognized your handwriting long ago," She uttered into the centrifuge.
~
the mothth as collage.
a quiet ththing.
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