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Aug 2020 · 83
cycles
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.
Jun 2020 · 103
Cherries
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
May 2020 · 77
Repercussions
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.
May 2020 · 95
Compulsion
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.
May 2020 · 103
My Fault.
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
May 2020 · 236
To -you
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
Al Grant May 2020
Maybe it’s not your fault
How my heart felt under assault;
When you leave me in dismay, every time you stay.

To that default silence
When you play your games with friends,
with voice louder than my empty thoughts
while I sit next to you —and empty spaces.
While I feel my heart turning solid,
slowly, wholly.

And then the dynamic shifts, sometimes
for a few minutes
When you talk yourself away,
recalling the great things you’ve
endured back in the days; while
I listen, laugh, and mewl.
But slowly, the tiny red soldiers are back
running amok; marching towards
my congealed heart

              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.

                            You liked me perfectly; more, and -
                            more, and more!
                            Until I was the cement wall that you adored.

                            And I would ask you questions
                            But you would answer with mind elsewhere
                            and empty stares
                            pricking my heart to a halt.
Al Grant May 2020
I couldn’t reciprocate what my heart has
been humming
— “I have been waiting for you my entire life”
For I am tired and at a discontent. Seeking solace
only from knowing that we are special and just apart,

But it catches on my throat like cotton,
And I know you’d be frightened.
As terrified as Poe to
when he trembles over the rapping,
rapping sound from the raven.
Murmuring: “darkness there and nothing more”
May 2020 · 52
Yusuf
Al Grant May 2020
in my long prairie white dress
with my fist clenched on my chest
I shut my eyes as I try to discern
a way out of this maze, I'm entrenched.

No one can compare to how
you move, blessed with grace
A sliver scent of paradise air
Causing me to pulsate everywhere

Hear my screams, cries, and moans
It is you I need
I have long coveted
in perpetual carnal longing
The center of me burning
           shaking, quivering

Your perfect undulating form
is making me swirl and twirl in abyss  
My **** hard, riveted by you, as it throbs
the center of me spreading the burn
aching, begging for you to relieve me
          please…

I don’t think I can endure
this pure pulsating yearn
this fluttering emptiness and heartburn
feeling unsatisfied, insatiable, barren  
— and worn-out full maximum

Say you want me too.
          please…
Say you want me too
Say you desire me, as
half of the beauty of the world is in you
And I cannot compare
Even just to your stare.

— The End —