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Shannon Aug 2015
i worry in tenses.
past, present and future
to stave off the huntsman whose after my head.
dire regrets are no more of a reaper
than the incubus lying still under my bed.
it's not the long shadow that
quickens my heartbeat
it's who he belongs to frightens me so.
not what i acknowledge
that gives me cold blood chills
it's all of the lovers i'll have to forego.
Cerberus came once to settle my debtor
handing him payment, i'm awful contrite.
for now one can love me
and no one can mourn as i'm
burdened to love him in black hematite.

Sahn 08/10/15
Analytical
Is the pen of my mind
Listening to beats to fine the time
To write the mysteries of my mind
Divine
Is the fruit of these rhymes
The manipulation of verbs
I play with both like *******
So sit back and observe
The curses that lay inside these words
Cause a human was never born
So can never produce anything of divine quality
Poems
Are to expose the demons inside of me
God one of your children is asking for a divine lobotomy
Poetry was the key to the cage
Like the magic harp that made ceberus sleep for days

— The End —