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  Oct 09, 2023
Tony Tweedy
I write not for my arts sake...
I write for my hearts ache...

I write not to remind myself...
I write to re-mind myself...
I perform my own exorcisms through my keyboard
  Oct 07, 2023
BrokenPieces
Loving you
A poison I would drink with pleasure
Any day of the week
  Oct 06, 2023
kevin hamilton
you left your blueish dress
twisted by the pool’s edge
like a cold monument
to every single misstep
and my heart is overwhelmed
with visions of a dancing grave

via crucis in the morning
carry me to our palisade
while these tiny arcs of light
leave my eyes, breaking easily
and your voice keeps me awake
i believe that i need this

you were wrong
i am nothing
but one more familiar face
amid the pageantry
  Oct 01, 2023
Suzy
β€˜Why me β€˜ he says

β€˜Why you’ I say
β€˜I wish I knew β€˜

The feeling is overwhelming
The frustration is consuming
The desire is deliciously warming
This emotion is heartfelt and so very real .
β€˜So β€˜ I say
That’s why
  Sep 27, 2023
August
He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.
  Sep 26, 2023
Julian
i believe,
even the stars
get tired.

when the night sky
had folded them away
back into the darkness

and the moon,
that lonesome thing,
has doused itself in shadows.

so will you too, my friend
shy away from the light
as if it would burn
if it reached you.

maybe you feel,
you just are not strong enough
to face the day.

that the midnight hour
is a broken thing

and oh, the silence
is deafening.

and you and i know, even the stars
are tired.

you mourn for them
as their light expires.
  Sep 25, 2023
ATL
when I awaken
I extend my finger
towards a panel of dancing light-

did you know that its veins were torn from a mountain?

a whole hierarchy of angels
living inside the earth
were turned to transistors

so that my letters
could glow in your hands.

when I learned this
I began sleeping beside a stream,

in the places where I could watch
wires dance-

beneath wooden pillars and their flimsy black arms
whispering secrets in permanent embrace.

every night I would dreamΒ Β 
to the forward noise
of churning water;

of fluid drifting through the air unseen
or pouring from life long past-

terraforming
for the maintenance of symmetry.
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