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John Destalo Aug 2020
every day I ask
for less

training my soul
for tomorrow

the world is
cracking up

creating more
sides and nothing

to connect them
so everything is

a line we dare
not cross

in the real world
the earth has

no lines or
borders or

boundaries
in the real world

the equator
is a man-made

myth
John Destalo Aug 2020
she dreamed of
being a flower

a perennial
that would

bloom beauty
a vibrant color

living for
a moment

spreading herself
around the world

then go away
for a season

living in the
earth unnoticed

untouched
only to return

when she was
ready to bloom

again
John Destalo Aug 2020
her thoughts
sink to the bottom

where men cannot
breathe

where light cannot
reach

they become those
strange creatures

that swim alone
and glow in the dark
John Destalo Aug 2020
a closed mind
a cell
a place with
stale air
and statues
rigid
frigid
nothing enters
nothing escapes
nothing is alive
nothing can die

that must be so
hard and painful

to never breathe
John Destalo Aug 2020
we see through
eternity

we hold angels
in our hands

like butterflies

we whisper and
create winds

hear our words
calling to you

to that place
in you

that knows more

that you always
follow

and call it you
and yours

because it makes
you feel powerful
John Destalo Aug 2020
you can have
what is left

did we give
you enough

of the world
to build the

next iteration
can you

generate another
generation
John Destalo Aug 2020
he swims
in chaos

he breathes
in confusion

his mind is
disorganized

his mouth
is rabid

spreading
his dis-ease

throughout these
dis-united

states
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