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The Noose May 24
In waning threads of light
The shadow of
Our lily burgeons
That howling wind
takes everything
She's easy on the eyes
When the time comes
She'll have the heart.
The Noose Nov 2020
I am in the city you hated
In the guts of the very land
which made you tremble
I am in the center of the bruise,
by and by
It is bursting, heavy
My eyes are falling.
The Noose Jun 2020
there was pain
in your bones
that which gnawed at you
in the
belly of the night
the lord
had to take you away.
The Noose May 2020
I said I wanted to remember you
Well then
if I remember you
Just as you were
in photographs
Your face like so
So clear and vivid
I want to remember you
I want to forget the pain
You are not there
I know of the heavy
That which
sits inside my being
I will break
Written atop the gulf of Eden
The Noose Mar 2020
That night
he held me
like a promise
he poured his guts
on the bed of the hotel room
his breath on my shoulder
this human
this beast of a man reduced to a coil
in my caring embrace
i understood
the molecules
of his nature

his revelations filled
the room with a heavy
stench of sadness
he told me, he loved me
in all his conviction
i know you don't love me
I said
i would later find out
he did, love me
in his own

when we held hands
later that night
the artificial affection
i looked at him in awe still
i was so ever gladdened to bask in his glory
i watched him drive into the night
he is not the answer my faculties screeched
they all never were
this was madness
the pinnacle of circling
on the edge of the never-ending.
17 December 2017
The Noose Mar 2020
Will you say to them
when I'm gone
I loved your daughter
For the fire on her tongue
arms flung open
the devotion in her bones, still.
The Noose Mar 2020
your daughter is an animal
She spends too much time
digging out the dirt
in her fingernails
Your daughter is too overbearing
she reeks of calamity's foreboding
her blood
soaked in dirt
your daughter scares other daughters
and sons away
her arms are too flung open
her blood and bone too sacrificial
clutching on
to hems of trousers
The quivering hands
She holds a pit in her belly
carries fire on the tip
of her tongue
burning the land and the foundations
on which she stands
Yet she worries about the visibility of her difference
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