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Time was getting away. Time was traveling through space. Time was balling into wax Of ear dirt in the mind. At the break Neck, It warped the world. Interstellar. Intergalactic. Interloper. Break neck into your arms. Kisses, a candy of crushes, Wrapped in coated yesterdays. You can’t mean that, That you are gone, And I am here? What means you to hit the high road, Alone. It cannot be. It must not be. It was the scene Cut, and deleted like the control v It was. Defeated and deflated On wings of storied lightning bolts, Storied in minds of Men. Lock the door To the heart. Why try again. The pain the pain So saddled in gore. Glory to all. The goodnight, he said. The Good night, he said. The good Night, he said. In finalized democracy, He took in his own hand, Decide what was right. It’s a collaboration, Not a solo project. Correct the situation, Correlate the situation. She tires and wearies, And bids, him Fare Thee Well Farewell, fare well. A near month of sorrow, Drawn out, Of fear of confrontation With an analytical Destroyer of resolve, Seducer of good intentions, Hot lips of caresses. Your work is done here, These aren’t the droids You seek, And care on into the night, In passion and in fright. Fear of the leaving. Fear of the staying. Fear of the ground leaves Buried deep in the soil. The fresh smell of the rain, Into dirt. He’s still, Gone.
0
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
**** It, He Left
Time was getting away. Time was traveling through space. Time was balling into wax Of ear dirt in the mind. At the break Neck, It warped the world. Interstellar. Intergalactic. Interloper. Break neck into your arms. Kisses, a candy of crushes, Wrapped in coated yesterdays. You can’t mean that, That you are gone, And I am here? What means you to hit the high road, Alone. It cannot be. It must not be. It was the scene Cut, and deleted like the control v It was. Defeated and deflated On wings of storied lightning bolts, Storied in minds of Men. Lock the door To the heart. Why try again. The pain the pain So saddled in gore. Glory to all. The goodnight, he said. The Good night, he said. The good Night, he said. In finalized democracy, He took in his own hand, Decide what was right. It’s a collaboration, Not a solo project. Correct the situation, Correlate the situation. She tires and wearies, And bids, him Fare Thee Well Farewell, fare well. A near month of sorrow, Drawn out, Of fear of confrontation With an analytical Destroyer of resolve, Seducer of good intentions, Hot lips of caresses. Your work is done here, These aren’t the droids You seek, And care on into the night, In passion and in fright. Fear of the leaving. Fear of the staying. Fear of the ground leaves Buried deep in the soil. The fresh smell of the rain, Into dirt. He’s still, Gone.
deborah-t-johnson
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deborah-t-johnson
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 11:05 PM UTC
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