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12/6/2015 "*Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.*" TS eliot, the wasteland I am amberbeetle,   stoked fire, medicated ditz I ramble through the wasteland, hook foot and slackjaw and go south in the winter. you gave me asters a year ago now they call me aster girl memory almost always mixed with desire, and I should've been a pair of ragged claws but that's a different poem. We talked for an hour maybe more in the summer, and he said hold tight, and I was was frightened, and down we went. Swiss instigation, broken video tapes and grimacing at sweaty sunsets sunrises, and there was no Japanese maple no silver leaf, no silver lining, I read much of the night. roots that clutch me in metropolitan rubble, and these days the broken deadtree gives no shelter, no consummation no conjugal embrace, I don't find, nor am I the hanged man "And I'd do it any other way but when the hell am I gonna get a gun? and you can't OD on clonepazam without it being ugly of course." Dorothy Parker– I planted a corpse in my yard Who am I kidding, we did, me with some assistance It was carrion found in the corridor did it sprout? it did, but not in the way I hoped- no carrot flowers or crabapple in fact it was held up by fruit vines that illuminated it for all to see including me. In the sad sad light a carved seraphim melted into the laqueria my nerves, they're bad tonight and every night stay with me Speak with me breed in the rats alley and lose your bones
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
In memory of TS Eliot
12/6/2015 "*Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.*" TS eliot, the wasteland I am amberbeetle,   stoked fire, medicated ditz I ramble through the wasteland, hook foot and slackjaw and go south in the winter. you gave me asters a year ago now they call me aster girl memory almost always mixed with desire, and I should've been a pair of ragged claws but that's a different poem. We talked for an hour maybe more in the summer, and he said hold tight, and I was was frightened, and down we went. Swiss instigation, broken video tapes and grimacing at sweaty sunsets sunrises, and there was no Japanese maple no silver leaf, no silver lining, I read much of the night. roots that clutch me in metropolitan rubble, and these days the broken deadtree gives no shelter, no consummation no conjugal embrace, I don't find, nor am I the hanged man "And I'd do it any other way but when the hell am I gonna get a gun? and you can't OD on clonepazam without it being ugly of course." Dorothy Parker– I planted a corpse in my yard Who am I kidding, we did, me with some assistance It was carrion found in the corridor did it sprout? it did, but not in the way I hoped- no carrot flowers or crabapple in fact it was held up by fruit vines that illuminated it for all to see including me. In the sad sad light a carved seraphim melted into the laqueria my nerves, they're bad tonight and every night stay with me Speak with me breed in the rats alley and lose your bones
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
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