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  Oct 2015 a e s t h e t e
Dylan Thomas
A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
                    A girl mad as birds

Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
                    Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds

Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
                    At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.

                    She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
                    Possessed by the skies

She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
                    Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.

And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
                    I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
a e s t h e t e Oct 2015
Tricked by a scheme, not long ago,        
was a lad once teemed with love and glee.    
           His soul was cursed and beyond repair
     was a cunning lie he thought was true.              
                     Alas! His faith had gone astray.                          
                        All his life he blamed himself                          
                             for all the deaths and broken hearts.          
                               Until one day, a l*** made way                
             to break this lie and mend his heart.                  

//
s.a.b.
a e s t h e t e Oct 2015
Ross wept when Marcel went away
and hoped, in the midst of those tears
that their souls will, again, one day
intertwine and dance and play.

Aria stepped in the darkness
with her only company – grave fear.
Dominant is the dread and terror and distress
until Spence held her hands and said, “I’m here.”

Marcel found his way
back to Ross, nonetheless
and Aria’s fears went away
as she walked hand in hand with Spence.

As I roam around this Central Perk
“It’s not your fault,” said Phoebe Buffay.
As I remain to prowl and loiter and lurk
I forgot that I’m a cat, smelly and stray.*

I meow as I hear this song subsist
To Regina Phalange, I owe all these
She may be unaware she’d done these things
Just know I’m forever grateful you exist.
Happy 20th, I love you.

s.a.b.

— The End —