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Al Grant Aug 2020
Your words left an imprint,
like a slap or a grip of a hand.
red streaks, and then,
the swollen pain.
I think I’m
delicate
yet, I don’t want you to change.
I'm addicted to your highs
Even more so, by
the plummet
of your lows;
before and
-after.
Al Grant Jun 2020
let me indulge in these fantasies
alternate realities where I’m happy.

The best version of me, that’s what I
want to be
Al Grant May 2020
On my lowest days
thoughts of you are always there to stay
I tried to replace you with heartbreak
or anything else
But you're always there to stay.

Sometimes I wonder if you think of me.
Would you imagine me older?  
Or do you only remember a little girl,
back to when you stole my innocence
And inserted yourself into my memories;
Always there to stay. Always there to remind me.
Al Grant May 2020
As a child, enthralled by smoke
my mind-controlled by the
chief priest of vestal virgins
to guard over the fire
sentenced to keep the flame
and its elements remain
in Perpetuum.

it goes away, but like cancer
it came back; into my soul.
The gate of irony came crashing in
after celebratory kisses from Himeros,  
and flows of Smirnoff

Now with age
after a couple of decades
mists, clouds, and storms are
puffing out my mouth
— and nose.
Al Grant May 2020
Maybe it’s not your fault
              How I always feel deprived of attention
              How I always feel insufficient

              How you always make me stay when you’re lonely
              The air between us so thin, yet
              I’m going astray —forcing the ashtray to weigh
              more, more, and more!
              The flare on my lips heavy
              Grounding me with gravity,
              through the cloudy air
              my body numb,
              my mind the calm sea of:
              lousy despair.
an excerpt from my longer piece
Al Grant May 2020
In my mind,
you design your poems
to cede my mundane soul.
if so, I want to let you know
you’ve succeeded your goal

65 euros spent for a week’s
worth of ****, And I sit here
on the weekend trying to read;
really, really liking you,
my Kings and Queens.
To HP, with love
  May 2020 Al Grant
Jason James
Your life doesn't interest me,
My own life barely interests me.
Days upon days of the mundane.
You grow
You try
You feel
You change
You get by
I stay the same
Every now and then I get high.
I'm going nowhere
But truth be told
I'm happy right here,
Nothing's out there for me,
No love
No mercy
You don't have to be a genius to see
I'd be wrong to complain
I've been blessed
With every day the same
And a life
Most mundane.
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