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"subfusc" poems
Painted glass windows, sequined tapestries Rainbow coloured dreams drowned, in Monochrome miseries. The women wait and weep, a phalanx overcome by grief Squinting through their candle-light visions, Understood by misunderstood legions. Fastigium Ataxia, She cries in pain, Rotating consciousness through the colourless rain. A patina of grief wailed above the room as The woman let out her final cry, A martyr in their eyes. Skinship visible through lonely cracks in subfusc walls The infamous neighborhood remained vacant that night The family lost a member that night. A paegn concerto, (Someone lost a shoe) The women hung their heads in grief (Somewhere bloomed a new leaf).
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May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Death in a Brothel
In the end Holding on to hope Was worse Than releasing her despair. It was an ionized illusion *St. Elmos' blaze Without the burn.* - But still She held her hands out Towards this flame And even as they froze She kept her eye on the fire Transfixed By the etheric images That leapt from the embers. Had she pounded The subfusc earth To rail against her lot And slapped the salty rills From her cheeks She might have lived. But she stood still Too buoyed by hope To notice That the flame was cold And icing her bones.
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Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 11:29 AM UTC
The Little Matchstick Girl
It was a sigh like no other a respiration of desperation a thousand times over It was as if I could exhale to exhume my own corpse I'm in love with this word only aimless expression with a senseless, seamless repetition for it never disapproves never uses the writer as it was itself, used I'm in love with the world but only as a whole mess of uncanny absence As a strangled moment, leapt away, exposed by obscure limelight, I shall expire Magnifying the reflective scarlet ocean a marred, oily silverscreen eclipse a piebald, shit-mired unicorn curled at the feet of a ****** in a subfusc-glo™ hometown crushed by rusted machinery amongst rudimentary scenery in a homespun anathema gown in the broken household, wound up men's eyes, went grey and dying past every thought, incendiary words lambasting paper mayhap, I'm through trapped, trying to explain other wise, now
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
The Surface