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Eliana Moody Jul 2019
River beds held dry by the mighty dams
Holding in, building pressure over desert
Behind temples and bodies
(the body is my temple)
Til the clouds soak up the water
And electricity zaps to life
But this electric storm
Brings forth no rain in me
Eliana Moody May 2019
Sparks coursing through hallways
Lighting paths that dim fast-
A message on a wire
Bent out of shape.

When a piece of paper is folded
The lines don't disappear
Just because the paper
Is pressed flat again.

Like wrinkles in sheets
These wires can not be
Pressed flat
Into smooth lines.

How many times
Can a fragile thing drop
Before its sensitive parts
Knock loose?

Your electric brain is
Permanently wrinkled,
Eternally bent,
Yet it sparks on.

Let it light the hallways
Of a quiet house-
Messages not received
Through beautiful bends.
Eliana Moody Mar 2019
The nature of my soul is dark and cold.
It is a husk, for its resources are drained.
Light pierces through a pinhole that used to be the sun-
Now a speck in a night sky.

The thoughts of heart are contemptuous.
Cynicism pulling out the buds of flowers,
Ripping them apart,
Before they have a chance to bloom.

None who are sane seek this.
To touch it would be unimaginable.
So surely, they that attempt
Are only seeking to succumb themselves.

When faced with such logic,  
You must be insane,
Else you wish for darkness yourself
When you approach this place.

Light does not smother darkness,
Only chasing it into corners and under beds.
However darkness can smother light
Looming over it and choking it out.

Darkness hunts and kills
Until all the light has either fled or vanished,
And when the darkness gets its way
The pinhole sun disappears.
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