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Alessander Mar 2015
The loneliness of stoics
Rocks, ancient rivers
Streaming only through
Blue hills, shadowed banks
The shade that makes
All bare boys shiver
Beneath the leaves.

The lake glistens
Such golden boughs
Hanging overhead
Lanky limbs
Wrestling
Sharp elbows
Digging
Into ribs
Upon damp grass.

This was the time
Before women
Before black hair
Swung lightly over
Our shuddering shoulders
Before dark eyes
Consumed
Fiery tongues

Before we could imagine
Such soft perfumed skin

Existed

Only in dreams
Only in books

And then…our life.
From the Alessander Archives.
Jaanam Jaswani Oct 2013
He creeps near to the foot of my bed
With that smirk
Oh he's come to cocoon me away to his army
Of dented men
With cropped souls

He asked
But never said please
To come with him
Where it's warm
I shook my head

He persuaded me
But never said please
To come with him
Where gems trickle down your face
I said no

He insisted
But never said please
To come with him
Where his home was
I refused

He forced me
But never said please
To come with him

When a comforting light pierced through my eyes

I couldn't see what it was
For it was far too beautiful
It sheered the man away

It was so modest
So against the beauty of living
Of looking, of tasting
It was a stoic;
Passionless

It was like the water
So against the grains of sand
Of dirt, of ink
It was a stoic;
Calm

It was so indifferent
So against the pull of pleasure
Of sin, of feeling
It was a stoic;
Strong

It was like god
It was god
For nothing
Would come close
To freeing the devil off the foot of my bed.

— The End —