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Beneath the weight of a thousand sins,
They stand in silence, where darkness begin.
For their solitude, i see fire,
A love twisted by loss, a forbidden desire...

A touch that burns, a kiss of poison,
In their embrace, I am lost, broken, and chosen.
inspired by the idea that even darkness can long for love, but at what cost?
One was cleaning herself and catching dinner
Her partner swimming around
So elegant and lively
Exquisite and lovely
Rodgers and Astaire on water
Some can be nasty and mean
Yet at sunset
A truly stunning couple
Swimming towards each other
We wished them a lovely evening
The weight of my truths
presses like stone—
no flood, no release,
only this grinding ache
against the sharp edge of language.

Each word is a wound reopened,
a splinter of myself
held to the light.
Silence is complicit,
it does not absolve,
only deepens the scar.

If my darkness stains you,
if the truth catches like barbed wire,
tear your gaze away—
this is not a plea for witness.
This is survival,
the slow unraveling
of a story that refuses erasure.

Do you doubt my suffering?
Do you doubt the sediment
of years pressed into me,
the residue of what I was?

What more can I give you
than this blood-inked offering,
this heartbeat fractured
between words,
pauses,
and the spaces you fail to see?

Let me remain unwhole—
not yet healed—
but forging the threads
that might someday
bind me to the surface
I cannot yet reach.
A reply to someone you know who you are, who made me feel terrible about being still unhealed from my past abuse and yes my trauma is very real.
They pass like phantoms in the shade
Their faces lost in mist
Voices dimmed to strings of time
That memory resists,
Features hover through the mind
Though details in-succinct
And threads of past performances
Occur but Indistinct.
I could have passed him in the street
But never caught his name
**** ghost of time's  a misery
Consumes me so... in shame.

Old friends walk in brotherhood
Through ancient tracts of time,
Though pained familiarity
Failing to define,
I almost caught our catch cry
In that old familiar song,
Some haunting shades of yesteryear
But....guess I got it wrong.
And then there were the stories
Which didn't quite add up
Like whiskey soured to water
Slipped in your favorite cup.

But come the next Reunion
I'll saddle up to go
Spend the dollars travelling
Attempt to make a show.
I'll hail the fellas loudly
And pound them on the back
Though all the while quite frantic
Thinking, "is it Joe or Jack?"
It's a product of the vintage,
A cursed sign of times
When you know he's struggling just as hard
Cos he can't remember mine!

M&Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
After 60 years of time and uncommunication...a Reunion of the Old Boys of ****** Agricultural College, Class of 65
Cheers Dadda DDA
While we’re renaming things,
can we please rename “United States” to “AAAmerica.”
I know I’m tired of scrolling to the bottom of every pop-down country list.
And ARE we united? Really, even a little?

That awkward moment when you’re already said, “what?” three times,
and you still have no idea what the conversation is about, but you can tell,
by bouncy and eager expressions, that the topic is loaded. Never sit at the end of a table, dining halls get noisy.

Has a song ever been your safe place?
What if it keeps you warm in a storm,
by getting you up and movin’?

Oh, what about the inimitable effect of a handsome guy?
Now, I don’t engage in decorous affections,
but ‘Cute Soccer Guy’ (I’ve mentioned him before),
wakes us up, by just showing up, oh, we play it loose,
and all, but he makes all of our hearts beat a little faster.

P.S. Don’t you love the AI tool that lets us scrub others out of our pix?
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A song for this:
Twiggy Twiggy by [re:jazz]
The Trouble With Boys by Little Eva
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 01/20/25:
Inimitable = something that’s impossible to copy or imitate.
Over the holidays, I was watching Lisa’s sister little Leeza, she’s 14.
She has a rebellious fashion sense and a joyful innocence.
She’s still fearless too, and on-God, I hope she never loses that.

Too soon though—the disco’s coming to town—the world’s coming for her. It’s the same for all of us, I suppose, but in Lisa and my cases, covid shut it all down.

It’s a rite of passage—the shoes, the bodycon dresses and the makeup. Those carry negative connotations, I get it, but there’s an excitement too, about finally getting to dress like an adult—a woman—in one of those bodycon, cut-out dresses.

I know the pressures on women and their bodies, but at her age, it's not all stress, cattiness and comparisons—it’s just innocent teen fun. She and her posse can take hours just dressing and doing their make-up—together. It’s probably the best part of their night.

Leeza’s dad (Michael) saw the little group of teens, all dolled-up and launched, like a SpaceX Starship. Pacing the living room, he quietly opined to Karen (her mom), “I don’t want her going out dressed like that.”

Karen was right there with him to cool things down, “No, ***, at her age, it’s about self-expression, learning and girl bonding—these connections are really important in the girl-world.”

I’m not worried about Leeza’s physical safety. These girls are watched over and gently curated. Their every movement is orchestrated and security escorted—hell, Hamas couldn’t get to them—much less some gropey boy.

There’s just this new awareness these days of how unhappy some people are—and a lot of them are teen girls. I wouldn’t want to see Leeza mired in the sad, brain-draining social media pressure and self-esteem traps.
Teenhood is scary—I was feelin’ positively parental.

Then I looked at Lisa, and I was reminded that they’ve done all this before, and she has a big-sister, role-model too.
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Songs for this:
Good Time Girl (feat. Charlie Barker) by Sofi Tukker
Dance To This (feat. Ariana Grande) by Troye Sivan
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 01/22/25:
Opine = express an opinion about something
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