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"palpation" poems
I touch you in a place most look past, a place within reach. It is within this place I feel most alive. The space between hearts, the space between fingers, interlocked, soft and slow. No one really pays attention to the space mid-heartbeat only the beginning and the end of palpation. But here, I taste the air and come to life. It’s not heavy. In fact, I am weightless. But I feel it in the hopes that you reciprocate. No different than the space between minutes, simply ticking. The world is not ours, but that isn't a reason to be afraid. When I think about you, I visit this place, not afraid to knock on your ribs, with every intention to exist closer to your heart
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May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:42 AM UTC
Closer to Your Heart
See, I'm not allowed to go back to the welcome mat called home Merely because of a boy with green lungs Bedtime story mouths say you're heading down a path of destruction But how am I supposed to sit back and let that happen? Because a way of living they don't approve of, I am force fed hypocritical helping hands Moonlit hearts and guilty rules That palpation in your heart called pain Does not escape in the form of smoke, blood, or tears. Listen to me let my words sit in the crevices of your brain just this once This is not good for me Its eating me from the inside out Leaving the memory of you behind My heart is reproducing arms And they are reaching out my chest Stretching out for miles Just trying to find you
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Working with Distance
May God show me the way for I fled to the edge where I lost my way, where I am surrounded with logs. come and rescue me among the mist of my heart where they call I have to listen. does it really talk? Does it talk with it palpation, maybe the bathing of blood? come and rescue me from the secrets of my heart as I burn from the high volts of my heart. come and rescue me where I needed you I discarded you I chose my ways away from you. your etiquette I left alone with biting cold where grass leeches every page of your scripture. I am tamed a sinner as I failed to tame my tongue as your etiquette stated . come and rescue me for my heart ekes me out.
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May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 10:44 AM UTC
Secrets of the Heart
the domicile of three generations not all those labeled grand reside within the walls the walls so effortlessly visualized within the mind and within the inner palpation of the body but a part will forever remain stained even in new-found renovations you can be away for a day or maybe many weeks but just a new paper on the walls as you flashback to once dragging fingertips down the lining of the hallway in which the dimensions are imprinted a void is created in absence of the tactile sensations so here I stand on this porch the edge of my personal universe an extension of myself built in brick, wood and my own bones at first woe overtakes and what can be a form of fear the future disappearance of a home held so dear comfort resides in my own realizations when the memories last in my mind i know to say home is here
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
Grandparent's House (Home)
I've found the true love that I was always looking for. Right inside my own heart. Every palpation, a symphony. Playing my life along.
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Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 11:38 AM UTC
Love Looker
"hi there, I'm here to confirm your death this is your last chance- speak now or forever hold your peace!" (writes ‘patient lying in bed with eyes closed. no signs of life. identity confirmed.') "i'm just going to perform a few tests can you hear me? (she shakes them, inflicts one final pain) does this hurt?" (writes 'no response to verbal cues or supraorbital pressure') "i'm just going to have a listen in to your chest" their heart is finally still not broken, or aching lungs empty, forever breathless (writes 'no heart or lung sounds on auscultation, no carotid pulse on palpation') “i’m just going to shine a wee light into your eye) she pries open their lids and looks for life, finds the same every time empty tunnels gazing above eyes wide open, taking in what comes next what horror? what wonder? (writes 'pupils fixed and dilated') “that’s us all done now, they’ll take you down to the morgue” uttered to a body waxy and fixed often warm hands held by so many now forevermore empty ('death verified at/on') and then- she strokes their hair, the way their mother did as they were laid in her arms gently closes their eyes traces a cross on their foreheads tucks them into their deathbeds leaves them to sleep God, have mercy, on this your child God, be kind I hope you are at peace Be at peace
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Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 3:14 PM UTC
geeky medics/death verification
Besides Inspection Palpation Percussion And auscultation One should spend More time on Soul gazing And that makes all the difference Read it again
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Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 2:06 AM UTC
Clinical Note
Between strangers, the many different faces, smiling frowning   indifferently staring, you look right at me. With a slight hesitation, in growing temptation, my heart's palpation skips about a bit, hereby admitting the gratification that flows in my veins when our eyes meet and you don't turn away but rather curl your lips a little. Our bright eyes and soft sighs wove themselves rapid in to both of our lives, I realized when we sat outside waiting as the rain dries around us, fingers intertwined, clean and quiet together. Between strangers, the many different faces, where are you? smiling frowning   indifferently staring, there you are and there she is and there's that look. Now we're strangers with very different faces whose eyes don't meet.
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Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
Between Strangers
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A demeanour equable to viridity, The nascence of a lamb. The supposed handsel from the welkin! Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A swaying of a quixotic mind, The dance from the societal crwth; The derogation of the lamb via gibes. Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A continual lampoon – The spawn of a chapfallen eagle. The brainchild of a timorous creature. Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens! A diagnosis of a bird in incommunicado with flight; A late palpation, albeit. The societal routine…
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Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 1:39 PM UTC
Mirror, Mirror in the Heavens...
Frozen, frozen i stood in space Embarking on a  journey unprepared With a heart quickly changing pace How could this be? How was I rendered impaired? Questions, a million questions ran through my head Trapped in plethora of thoughts with nowhere to flee They say before you die your life flashes before your eyes But I was well alive and no blood was being shed Instead it ran through my veins like an unchained greyhound Racing an endless track trying to catch a prize How could this be? Is this a dream? Am I in bed? To which reality am I bound? Silence, silence was all that prevailed Like an operation room with a surgeon about to incise Immobile exteriorly, erupting interiorly With a flood of emotions my body was assailed Warm and cold, fast and slow, ennemies and allies How could this be? Could a drug have hindered my movements? Is this all a hallucination? What substance could cause such a rush? What dream could cause such palpation? So there i was, filled with thoughts to amaze Confused, uncertain, my body leading me astray Ready to quit, with a stomach light as hay There could only be one explanation Frozen, frozen I was, by her gaze...
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Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC
How could this be?