#exploits
All malady malaise enshrines
downstage – we set to rise or fall
a ****** apart from clarity,
false liberty, put on for all.
Such dryness cracks our throat,
devoid of verdance and the warming coat
of piles of people – weary from the dance,
they take their chances on
the Interstate, arresting dawn
with red-and-blue-make-white line fever.
Be an eager steward of resource:
get on their power-horse -
inflict the distance on our hearts,
the petals strewn apart, so lost
without a core, and more, the chore
of wilting in an unseen way
upstaged by autumn leaves -
deceives the quickness of the exit.
Unsuggested dreams arise,
waft in, disrupt
the lover from his lies
to reason, cheap endeavor
mold’ring in the square.
You’re there
to show Afraid up,
grace the curtains with a knowing bow
below to one door down:
disharmony beneath the stage,
each quaver screaming to itself,
“Get on my page.”
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 4:32 PM UTC
Miles upon miles
slither along old,
forgotten bends and
dance with evening
tides.
You exist across
the vast exploits
of their secret
vices.
I exist among
the roots of
their ***** deplorable
deeds.
One day, we
will encounter each
other's beings and
visions.
And what a day that will be.
-s.r.b.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC