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Feb 2013
mornings ice
feels fresh
from nights grubby paws
walking through a place
where i don't feel lost
leaves sowed on humble branches
brushes through my hair
apples float
in the simplest form
we take our breaks
from the depth of others eyes
as they stare with pandemic ideas
so frightening
makes the ground swallow you past your knees
second breath you take
a sticky melody
collection of  black-lights
guides a taxidermist  towards your heart
only can you
write yourself out
with occult-ed stories
about space and time
but still its all hieroglyphics
to that diamond cut monster
  his  malice screams
make your ears reach for fairest of volumes
crawling for that exit
the one you painted as a child
scenery of  leaves
and apple trees
you shut your eyes
and all has stopped
your nerves start to float
your mind cradles sanity
but still that voice lingers
the voice of complexity
Emerald
Written by
Emerald  portland. OR
(portland. OR)   
  1.0k
   Bluelips, ---, --- and Chuck
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