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Strung 4h
Open gangly arms are reaching
Forward, to a magic gate
Red and faded, painted beady
dragon eyes.
Little water house, you sing to me,
Ears floating from my head
Towards wispy cotton cattails.

I crave a jaunt with ducklings
In icy morning air,
Even if the pond is softly frozen.

Who lives in murky water?
And sings early winter songs
To a fragile gangly girl
Who's prone to listen
And respond?

Palm-sized apples, bitter cores
Losing noons to grape groves.
I wished to be a raspberry ferry
Floating downstream
Strung Oct 2020
Inferiority perched ready in the waiting misty lake.
Like magic, she floats atop a rippling plain.
Rest in water, breathe deep - the fool.
She flutters above, air bubble out of reach.
Drown drown in the void you create and breathe deep.
"I pity the corpses who lie in the water," you say in the grasp of dead hands.

You are a force and your mind is the block, so do as you wish, but lay still.
However long you gasp for air, you will die regretting free will.
Strung Aug 2020
Chipped or ***** or dying
and you can't look past it.
What's special about new? Or is it
that it is
How much beauty
can you see
in damage?
In use?
I'd like to believe you see worth
in the imperfections
of me.
But what do I know
of your soul, really? And who is to say
you will leave me in any better shape
All I can do is hope.
Strung Jun 2020
Orange flowers
Catching all the hills on fire
Just to see them burn, I take a breath.
Smoke and dust bind my righteous life underneath my eyelids.
Strung Apr 2020
I creak in this cold.
Calm, china-doll-like purple hands
Icy veins
Fingers Frozen
To my zipper,
Of my teeth reminding me
Of my callow views
My doll-like skew
On everything.
— if I broke, it would be a shatter,
And I could glue myself back together
Full of cracks.
Strung Dec 2019
I don’t think I see you anymore;
I don’t see anything besides the
Dangling red-stones and reckless curls,
Sun-kissed smile shivering for more
I cant comply to.
I don’t want to lose you to the life you can’t give up and I lose myself every other day to
Monotony. Maybe
You could end that?
I’m tired
And blind
And I can’t stop seeing your hidden sort of side—The one that glances at the person you wish I wore
And writes of all the sensuous aspects of the world.
See these fake words you assign me, I am not a crisp morning
Or beckoning sea breeze entangling you in lust and mystery—I’m frozen.

I don’t know what else to say now,
Standing in the un-lit streets of memories unwinding—holding close the heart I guess I broke—Staring at your shifting soul,
I wonder who I would have been without you
And who I will become once you are gone.
Love-Locked looks I hide inside,
Beside my permanently damaged sense of pride.
So instead of any other sad display
I’ll tell you
You look more beautiful every day.
Strung Nov 2019
At least he’s eating lunch today.
Scrambled-egg-sandwich smell of telling me to worry less—
I never do.
“I can’t do anything”
“My mind is gone”
I suppose life is splitting through your bones,
But don’t worry,
Spatula in hand,
waving fates away like flies amongst an endless strain of pain,
He tries to stand
Against the demons eating him
But hey,
At least he’s eating lunch today.
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