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Mar 23
you as lumber, lumber that doesn't provide lumbar support: the definition
of two people as pine; memories that are prickly, like a porcupine; a crown of
thorns, a hammer head, a head up requiring the strength of Thor; a hammer
coming down the way kisses do, resulting in a low blow; a ****** that *******

you from the cockpit without a parachute; gravity, the gravity of the situation;
everything up in the air. the sky and your emotions as a gravy boat; a sense
of falling down, while being poured out; while being pored out into a cesspool
of blemishes; everyone as a spectator at poolside, in aviator glasses, peering through them like a View-Master: you are a scene and seen however they see fit

friends you count on, like sheep; except that you can't count on, once asleep;
this false sense of security, blanketing you with the coziness of your bed;
friendship as the bed you make, but there's a lie in it; so there's no lying in it

even--especially--among your nightmares. morning that excludes mourning,
morning that does not give way to night again; a lighthouse of the mind,
beaming out to at least one of your multiple personalities when lost at sea.

a fire escape in the water. a stairway you find only by sinking. what goodbye
means, if you survive it; God foiling the best laid plans, aluminum foil for
the soul; your self as soul food, your self as the sole food: you eating yourself

alive if your health fails and you have no one to turn to. a wheelchair that
time travels, because it is a vehicle that can only visit the past; your body as
a vegetable, your muscles evaporating the way water does; your eyes rolling,
the only thing on a roll; your eyes as what's left of you with a role; the time

for talk is over, for when time is all that is left talking, it's over; you holding a positive, as if a charge, and wondering how long the battery will last;
would-be outlets, out of "let's": will i find Walt Whitman again, when i am

up against my next wall? obstacles as my poetry, until the key stroke is a key stroke: until poetry is an obstacle. you singing me electric, until you can't.
stylesclash
Written by
stylesclash  28/M/USA
(28/M/USA)   
49
 
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