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One eye open , in the pill box , tantamount to tugging on Mothers robe , trigging yet needing recognition , laying down suppressive fire for the entire division , marching through enemy lines , planes at treetop level make the ground shudder , Rottweiler at my bed won't leave me be , shadows growing larger , R.E.M. sleep . Both eyes open , panning into the tree line , five pills to choke down , a long days travel , trying to make it  until Noon , meet the combat medic , pick up fresh chemical to cure a soldiers blues .. Across the water a heron monitors the surface , hours on end without movement , stoic and proud or frozen with fear just like me !
Copyright October 1 , 2015 by Randolph Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Hoa Luu Aug 2020
can be tools:

Like, knives gorging rouge rivers
from, dormantly gentle innocents
choosing trigging monstrous temptuous actions.
"**** them."

Like, fluffy floating cuddly clouds
on, a empathetic lazy afternoon breeze
uplifting encouraging believing hoping loving.
"the Feels."

Like, a portal expanding at relating
to, exposing a tender timid soul
honestly sincerely vulnerably truly heartfully.
"Love you."

Words are not 'what' but 'how'.
Words becomes trustable reliable valuable
Wondering around targeting, supporting, or connecting.
"Woah."

— The End —