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  Nov 19 preston
F Unting Cuckface

   The killer
came crashing down
smashing,  thrashing through.

What is tender's  tender
       so  for itself,   to do?

        --As it runs
        right over the top of her..

       This taker.
       This killer.

In the black,  
now in between;
so lightless and thick..

        blotting out  all screams.
There is an annihilation  here.
A void.

A terror.
To stay, means certain death

      but to leave  
      also means certain death
      So the  d is m e m b e r men t   begins
      as she is ripped, completely into half

And those halves,  into half..

.. into half

--into half..
        into half.

     And still it tears.. rips..  shreds--
Until all,  in between
is nothing  but black.

A black it can now  pretend to fill
with all of its empty promises..

and all of its counterfeit, everything.

..And then--  just up and leaves
once it is fully satiated.

     And for a while..
     the black had something.

Clinging to the rocky crags
on either side of the unlit valley
are now  the¬†pieces of her--
war-torn and shuddering.


Of the black, black   empty.

Of what is now  fully
     and  completely   dark.

      ~       ~      ~       ~

Timmy  ain't real tall
but look at his stature,
as his majestic strings   dialogue
the introduction.

And Warren's gotten so fat
See him now, looking so dearly,  back
at his half-pint of Chunky Monkey--
picking it back up,  for the fourth time..
scraping... scraping.. scraping..

But watch his eyes  light up
as Timmy looks up--
  over the top
of those wild-man RayBans

And with a gentle nod,  it all begins..

-- as our Warren  now digs  deep
into his Gibson's beautifully-wanton  ways..




Clarence, the Magician..
Stephan--  Humble, Unparalleled
And Dave's  so chill
he's part Creole.. I just know it.

So great a cloud of witness:
surrounding you, my beautiful..

coaxing  you.

    Identifying it all for you.

"He came dancing across the water
         Cortez,  Cortez..

            What a killer."

ah Neil..
tell me, my brother
have I lost my way?
--Warren digs deeply into its start
as on the edge of my bed
I dig deeply,  into her.

Love is a much more beautiful killer.
preston Sep 11

Along the priarielands--
rolling hills   previously
by wild buffalo.

sage hens
prairie chickens
hungarian partridge

     and now you--

You, in that pretty, flowing
summer dress- walking that
line.. between planted field
and wild prairiegrass

    and not a blade is broken.

Wind-- moving the grass and
nearly-ripened crops like
slow rolling waves 
        out on the sea.

Me.. watching you
      move.. just watching you-- move..
along that line between
and natural.. 

   and moving with understanding;


   knowing.. sweetly knowing
   that there's a glowing
   from what you are showing--  me;

   Not a blade of grass or crop is
   ever harmed by your movements
      instead.. like me, they thrive--

      leaning into you 
      whenever you are near.
             .       .       .

      I am the grass
      the blade
      the crop-- ready for harvest
      the bison
      and the upland bird

      the forever wave hello
      of the tall grass of the prairie.

      And you are as much a
      part of it all
      as you are  of me.

      Like the native grass
      and the native Lakota
¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†   ¬†that have¬†¬†both
      always  known its ways..

      you were always meant to be here.

  Aug 24 preston
let me speak to you about fleeting things that keep me stitched and sane,
blood pours from my head, drips back down again
reminisce about the insignificant
reanimated, and buried with white roses
***** my vein
hide my face in tinted memories as i'm bleeding
rotting nest spent every season,
made me blind so project images onto my blank canvas
black out as i lose it
stream of red on violet roses
smell of death within my resting place
shedding hairs, **** the rest of me
killing hope, a devil's scheme that inadvertently
burned the roots of my family tree
i find the life hidden in this sickly stalling and the sharp pain of my suffering
so do i not deserve to live truly and peacefully?
preston Aug 12

Who you are as a person
and all the amazing things  
inside you
that are still so worthy
of my (or any one else's)
will never be replaced.

I know very well  that I will
never find a  replacement
for all the things whose sum,
clearly make you, you.  
Life is so much more
than the give and take  of
Love and support  
that can be found  sometimes
through online poetry.  
I only wanted to be friends,
but I know that with you  it would
be difficult,  because

I see in you

so much more

than you are able   to see

within your own self.  

You never gave yourself
the chance
to find out
what it would be like
to be real-life everyday friends
with someone like me.
As long as I'm alive,
that chance will never be over
for you..  
I know that I will never   find
a spirit
such as yours
ever again.  

If you don't believe me, just look at  the words
your beautiful spirit has produced
throughout the years.  
That should tell you  everything
that your own self view
so adamantly refuses
    to allow you to see
    within your own self.

I see enough of the view  within you
for both of us.  
I know now that I always and forever will..  
even as absolutely frustrating
as your own self loathing
and self-induced fear
can sometimes be
for those of us who love you

          so very deeply.

The door will always open for you--
not because I am needy..  

       but because you are..
         and always will be
   so very much worth it.

every single day  is a brand new day. xo
  Jun 7 preston
Its persistence was the product of vengeful fantasies of fighting the abstract concept of injustice against it, regardless of its circumstances, regardless of the state it's in
****** up and dysphoric
but delusions wrapped in nostalgic plastic boxes
dissociation, nostalgia for things that never happened was the other half of its being
but then numbness from the disconnect between it and its own body, spreading to its capacity to feel anything
now to these longing daydreams

there is no longer anything that it wants
in this world or any of the other ones

there is nothing left to feel, be it touch or the old dissociative clutch

nothing to gain from pretending It exists, or writing in the first person,

my humanity is constantly in question
whether it's the cruelty of my fellow human
or these circumstances that have destroyed my self image,
put my young body through years of decay,
and killed my will to live

I tried to find the will to clean my skin, but it was spent on not collapsing
the irony in sacrificing my own health to maintain the means of surviving

I feel parts of my body decaying from years of neglect
the irony in slowly killing the one thing I've never stopped dreaming of loving some day
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