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"daydreamt" poems
She, a cavernous champagne glass, he, a weary pony, who ate the neighbor's grass-- her name Ms. Wesson, his name Mr. Smith, they died on a slow Tuesday-- and stop looking Wesson clan, if looking for a lesson. Mid-afternoon midst a love bent 69 Mr. Smith and Ms. Wesson committed murder-suicide-- Mr. Smith turned from a man back into a stain, Ms. Wesson turned from a woman back into a chain. And the artist-in-neighborhood did rejoice, subject matter for a painting to hang above his licorice-colored memorial of a prisoner dove. And the police did gossip, was it love? was it *********** What a fine piece of *** that could be living. And it took the families two weeks to find out, they wiped their feet on dead leaves, daydreamt open caskets and planted juniper seeds. Talk of another woman, talk of another man, but God himself would tell you, they were simply bored of each other's drugs, they were simply bored of each other's barrels, so, they barred each other from being, and headed west on erosion's dime.
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Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 8:31 PM UTC
oil paintings of ****** picnics
i daydreamt of monet at lunchtime as i sat alone on the bench by the waterfall that marked the and smelled the and reminded me of the fact that sometimes literal meaning is less important than the smell of wildflowers and the and the way that under the hot july sun the colors of the forest felt a little brighter and my skin was more sensitive to the breeze than it perhaps would have been had it only been sixty five degrees and not eighty three. and waterlilies are ,in fact, a little more green than monet painted them, and less blue, but whatever. or was it just that i hadn't eaten at all in two days and that i was feeling a little light headed and when your mind can't help but wander off on its own then the way that the trees and the birds and the children and the clouds and the sky reflect off of the water start to remind you a little of monet
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Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
i daydreamt of monet at lunchtime
18 minutes And I have daydreamt of you Each of the 1080 seconds passed, Contemplating how I want to be so much better than your last. Come on Lets get lost in each others eyes While we forget the dark horrors of our past Don't back track baby Let's sit in this sunny moment and Bask Just like the sun This burning desire won't go away If you're with it, I am as well You know I'm here to stay. 30 minutes And I've come to realize that I can't even stand to be away from you, for 1800 seconds.
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Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
While You're Away
plastic dreams & magic hearts propelled into my subconscious & I framed them. lost myself compulsively in the pages of everything I could lay my hands on --sweet escape only comatose-- daydreamt often visions of being fantastical amazing standing on desks & screaming empowered dominant noticed
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Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
I
every time i imagine your name or your face, or any daydreamt aspect of you interacting with me, instead of your name, i will think, "for what?" and i think, it's better this way, ~for both our sakes
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Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 1:31 PM UTC
for, what are you to me, but an exaggerated daydream
heaven is not far as i lay there, beside you its the breathing in and out in and out with slow moving chests inducing a trance like no other i get lost in the rising and falling, and the mangled web of my mind the birds are chirping now, since when did i prefer my reality over dreams? it is only a matter of time before your sweet sleepy sighs turn into wakeful yawns once again my days have run together, due to nights spent awake dreaming of you
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Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC
daydreamt
Loneliness lamented, never exempt from tremendous emptiness, relentless against hellbent descent of my own invention; entrenched in mental torment taking up every tenement residence, detention condemns. But summer still incenses mid November in sun scented memories, tempted by your gentlest remnants, still renders me senseless. Daydreamt, ephemeral, almost replenishes and mends until heart hemorrhaging becomes a drenching tempest, like a fist clenching tension holding onto your absence and some semblance of what you meant and yet goodbye you went again.
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Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 11:48 AM UTC
November Memories (2nd draft)