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Let's do another line
Of powdered sleep
Swim the oceans
With Hypnos
Tumble down in the deep
Dream of beauty
And horror
And nothing at all
You feel it so real
Sure as you're stuck to this ball
When your dreams
Are mostly disasters
Which are usually caused by your actions
You awake
It takes a couple of beats
To realise
The current apocalypse
Isn't happening.
Monday done gone
and now
on to Tuesday.

it never stops
wailing sirens
the cops
a doughnut
but
I don't listen
anymore

got used to it
like I once got used
to the crash of waves on the shore
it's just background
and
if you really hear it
you can hear silence
in the sound.

I am ready
She says
steady on John
and
I wonder
where the time has
gone.
I wrote to myself
a note to myself
but forgot where
I put it.
We used to talk about
going
to Montana--escaping it all,
building a log cabin and
making a garden.  We were
going to hunt and fish for
food--make rugs and
hats from the fur.

But look at us now.
You live in the
city and drive a Volvo.
Goldfish in a glass bowl.
You even taught your
cat to walk on
a leash.
Can you see the
sky with all the smog?

I'm not any better.
Living under the bridge;
the only hunting I do is
for cans, the rare and
illusive
aluminum nickel, so that
I can buy *****.  

I walk down to the
river's edge and look up at
the expansive sky.
I close my eyes.
And when I open them, baby,
we're in Montana.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read poetry from my recently published book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories, available on Booksie.com
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1khU1Mo5AKE
 May 29 Nolan Bucsis
jules
the night pressed in,
heavy and mean,
the way it always does
when you’re sober long enough
to feel everything you’ve been running from.

i sat in the kitchen,
a cigarette burning in the ashtray,
the smoke curling up
like the ghosts of all the things
i used to believe in.

there was a cockroach on the floor,
big, slow,
moving like it had seen worse days than me.
i thought about smashing it,
about what it must be like
to live your whole life
dodging shoes and poison
and still keep going.

but instead,
i opened the window,
watched it crawl out into the night.
then i crushed the cigarette,
and thought:
maybe that’s all there is—
just figuring out
who’s worth saving.
and hoping someday,
it’s you.
I'll stay up until my eyes give out
and stay asleep until I jump back awake.
I'll keep fighting until my lungs give out
and stay in whatever solace is left in this place.
You can go a year on your own,
coasting at whatever pace
and then have **** near every ounce of peace
snatched from right in front of your face.

I dont know whats to come or how ill manage
but I know ive always found a way before.
No matter how many times I fall and break
I never fail to get up from off the floor.
I will stay here for a minute though to ground.
The only times I wish for company
is when I cant get it from the friends i've found.
Its no shock its a test.
To try and find rest despite it.
Feeling my nervous system panic
and try to fight it and not being able to flight it.
Its not new or news
i'm just tired of being abused
im tired of having to be strong
and i'm so tired of being so confused.

I am not like these people
so I could never understand.
Simply because id never move how they do
but I still try to comprehend.
It doesnt matter intent.
It doesnt matter whats shared in kindness.
I could lay it all on the table
and they'd still keep their hand hidden.

I see I'm meant to deal with it solo.
I just dont know how to do so
yet without fail, without handbook,
I do it once more.
If I have to end you for my progress
I WILL contemplate whether to pull a trigger.
I know what would be at risk
and id STILL not want to end a father.
Its inevitable.
He assimilated deep in the foot of his
Nuzzling slab. Solid shadows stretched
Below. More true to him than the infinite
White heat that cast them in vast strokes.

He sat face-down, between two
Scrunched twigs; bent like
Mantis' claws. He held his
Eyes-open, absorbed into
His own shadow, now crisp.
Not fuzzy and undefined.
come lay your head on the
bones of the dead,

here lies
the lie of the twenty first
century

nothing will prepare you
for the taste of the fruits
of evil.

if we're to meet our doom
and still
no room at the inn
how do we begin
to believe.
When you call 988
A computer generated voice
Tells you that you are not
Alone
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