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Mar 2012
This is my oasis in the fog.
I was baptized in these waters
and I don't even believe in God.
But now;
my sanctuary is tainted barely
as you throw your rocks in my pond.

After three or four the ripples still,
can't even touch the shore
like an infant child reaching for their feet for the first time.

Clutching ... Grasping ... ******* ... Gasping ...

Searching for the lady bugs to fight against these aphids.
How could say this isn't where the rain hits
when I've never heard a single one of my songs on your playlist?

...Memories fade like a fragrance...

Or so dreamt the cool cat that slept
on the warm hood of a suburban in his suburban hood.
Born in a summer haze and died just the same.

Will you come sit by my side at the piano
and criticize the way I turn the pages?

Because kings are rulers but can't measure a thing,
all you can do is sit and count your treasure in vain.
Heavy lies the crown but don't let it weigh you down.

I feel oddly godly in this mortal skin of mine.
Sure I bleed like a human but my colors are true.
Not crimson red or royal blue.
Hell I mean, they aren't even cowardly yellow or envious green,
rather transparent; unseen.

Now I know how it feels
to splatter and shatter
like raindrops on the windshield.

Too intense and immense I can barely take it,
I quickly recoil like the foot that breaks forth
from the warmth of your blanket.
Anthony Jarell Alexander
Written by
Anthony Jarell Alexander  30/M
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