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 May 2014 qynce b
bucky
your eyes are not oceans
and you are not a natural disaster
you are manmade and you will topple
and i will be the one to topple you
because you are a literal bag of human ****
and if you think that telling me
that i deserve ****
will impress your fellow man friends,
you had better watch the **** out
because i am coming for you with a taser
and a buzzsaw
your mra t-shirts can't help you now,
****
love, a very angry feminist.
Haunted ghosts host our waking hours
during sleep they transport us to places
indescribable by human words.

The ghosts lean on door posts
watching us, remembering their corporeal selves
Wanting to be warm blooded again.

Orchid scented air announce their presence
Morbid thoughts clog our senses
Do we remember them?

Do we want to remember them?
They are dead, long departed
Long deported off this realm.

Halted thoughts gloat at our minds
How those haunted ghosts once chortled,
fondled, and dawdled along.

Long dead; these ghosts are haunted
Not by us the living,
but the memories of them we bring.
© JLB

— The End —