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you are the aftertaste of coffee.
after the jumpstart,
the palpitation,
here you are,
sadly bittersweet.

you are the persisting vision
of a falling star.
its trail of light
remain before me
even after it’s long been gone.
i’ve tried to catch it
with my feeble hands,
only to grasp nothingness.

you are the aftermath
of an earthquake,
of which i found myself
at its epicenter.
even after rebuilding,
i found
that nothing is
as it was.

you are the tune
that keeps playing
over and over again
inside my head.
i’ve being lss-ing
over your memories,
singing a song
i’m not sure
if i’ll ever hear again.

you are an aftertaste,
a persisting vision,
an aftermath,
an lss
that i wrap around myself,
holding me together,
keeping me from falling apart.

for j.e.
*100314
 Apr 2018 smokey basil
Dianna
I hate it how
people say things,
meaning to hurt,
meaning to scar

I hate it how
people scar themselves
meant to hurt
but meant to take the pain away
I know a girl, everyone does.
All she wants is fun.
She won't be having cereal today,
she'll have everything under the sun.

She don't read the paper.
She don't watch no news.
Why would she care about someone elses troubles
if they will never buy her shoes?

She don't need no man.
She don't need no gun.
So many rides to take her there,
she don't walk, much less run.

She's got no time to cry.
She's won't listen to the Blues.
Nothing in the world matters to her,
unless it's something she can use.

She has lots of friends.
She'll dance with them all night.
But she cares not that they ain't real,
cuz she's forever high as a kite.

She don't care about no art,
unless it's something she can wear.
The thing she loves to look at most
is in the mirror there.

She's just loves making trouble.
She's always causing a stir.
But she don't bother about anything in the world,
cuz it revolves around her.

It's almost sad to watch her live her life,
always seeking to ring her own bell.
A living, breathing, ******* a mission
to fill a vacant, soulless shell.

She stares down into her pond, from her big ivory tower.
She'll never be happy and even less so,
as a helpless little flower.
If you don't know who this is really about, the first line is a clue ... they can be seen on their own reality shows (past and present), gossip shows, tabloid shows (and IN the tabloids) and any and all social media. Naming names would only beg a flame war. If you don't understand the last line, then Google "Narcissus" ... it will explain.
 Apr 2018 smokey basil
mythie
I have so many worries.
Anxieties.
That I just can't escape.
They flood my brain.
Controlling my memories.

I keep up the facade.
That I'm stable.
Happy, nice.
But I'm not.
I'm anything but.

I break down every night.
Because of you.
My tears stain my face.
Because of you.
I don't know what to say.
Because of you.

You never meant to hurt me.
I never meant to hurt you.
But in the end.
We wound up hurting each other.
We were the monsters they warned us about.

The dark clouds, wrapping themselves around us.
Only engulfing us in sadness.
So I keep on crying.
Because the more I do.
The more the dark lets go of you.

You don't know.
But I do.
With each tear I drop.
The monster consuming me.
Will eventually.
Swallow me whole.
 Apr 2018 smokey basil
Sky
your eyes,
waxy and chromatic
seeped through my clothes and
soaked my skin,
bent my bones and
dyed my concrete spine
blue magenta.

forgive me, forgive me
my revolving-door mouth,
my pendulum heart,
my clammy hands.

my religion is jazz but
i swear to God,
I'm Roman Catholic.

and so I brought you some tulips,

cause I can't lose you
to New York.
baby give me a chance
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