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walking down childish roads
i weep spotting something rotten
a tree
& i wonder before tying my shoes
in a church
guarded by senile eyes
i think to myself
why must i hold
in my fleshy heart
one becomes itself.

& below after years
of walking & soaking
structures & small
soiled gatherers
i see teal stained pages
smeared red, white
with the doings of our past
only needing a page in books
to breed fear in rosy hope.

looking before as a camera wants
we fly into the upward
quickly with enthusiasm
a smile etches our glossy face
& we see me
someone is here on my road
i stay calm
next to me sets the biggest
jaw i have or will see
sure there are greater
in numerous numbers
strange unfathomable flanks
ranking from mine
created from my rust
& our immense patience

seeing or realizing
there are strange silences
between the peace you held.

no.
Tragedy
These are required.

Our house was broken into while I slept and died.
Poorly vented incontinence.
People begin isolation from teachers and students.

Some holding children hands.
Some who hack away their friends.
Husbands, girlfriends, etc.
Unaware of their children.

the farthest branch.
assures us there is life.

where chatter swells in sight of gold.
where a raccoon sees clouds, but no sun.
the moon reflects
lifeless, controlling planes & folds foreign.
even if so
his reach would only meet his grasp.
but it can not be this way.
the clouds move & swell.
protecting us from ourselves.
from bizzare nebulas & unknown entities.
harbingers of death originating
from our silky cigarettes & lean machines.
inside the heavens, golden & blue.
beyoned the heavens there is a degree of souls,
all souls asking each other & us the same questions.
why this way?
if you loved me,
it would not be.
further into God's home,
the things deep in his rivers & far down his roads say,
if you loved me, together we'd stand.
the cobwebs run behind the shadows placing my hand near sight.
i see divine, everlasting life.
how can it be so?
i do not move mountains.
my blood does not course from me sweet as wine.
i am here as the jaguar.
black as night.
untouched by morning's warmth.
unseen by our sun's eye,
who stays my eternal enemy,
yet always in my heart, my sleep.
alone he sits.
far away.
telling us forever,
never tiring,
if only you loved me.


the copper straightens itself holding mountains together, shiny veins
the trees speak in the language of survival, cells
Tragedy.
Bolts and matches.
No match for bolts and matches.
A star under the burnings of the floor.
Black bold face tea.
Trim the hands.
A boat for small and easy jobs.

Somehere I run and somewhere I move.

Never a knew question.
Or be them known.

On colorful rocks.
Rocks colored with your face.
Rocks before color and these are again.
Rocks believe the promises.

Rocks do not move for Heaven.
Crumbling, a tight holding.



Maybe something stranger and a something much more than this.

This has been your still birth.

You need not be more.

Retry and compute and restore and believe.

Love just won't know.
I've tried the two year old plan.

It is age now.
Time moving and the stillness of completion.

By your cycle and by your side.

My
mouth
bleeds.

My mouth crumbles from heat.
& when I sleep at night, my window opens.

Winter creeps in & steals the warmth of your memory.

Smothering only hope & rewriting my repose,

My hollow form, now torn, twisted.

I am man again.

All the same.

I'm no thread scarring your dreams.

Sensibly I seek strength.

& hover towards that lonesome window.

& bolt it's cold steel latch.

& stumble.

Through the frosted pane.

Into deep liquid night, my eyes close.
Tragedy.
Dreaming in the closet and I will have the same as you. You must know I feel you.
As all and before. Come hither. Bring your noose and the last dress we sold our skins for.
Cheap witness, plagiarize our scars and pass them onto former lovers.
The newest additions run no deeper than the stories of your hide resting in his closest.
And how funny it is.

My dreams and my silences against your pleasings and your oiled canvas.
May you rub your nose open.
Your skin will fall.

"Please no more. Leave me with the husks of before."

Listen. And your age will weep it's loss.
Your strings are knotted. Just above the hemline, your goddesses crumble.

I try to struggle.
I try the dance with any devil present.
Believe that you will remember.

And I try so hard.

So sleep and dream.

Maybe an equal amount make it out alive.

"Bring me love. "
Tragedy.
Twenty seven megahertz. Imagining myself in the restroom choking on a crushed throat. This fact is separated by a lack of sleep and much consumption of eleven dollar nostalgia.
A forced talisman of luck and truth. Like words etched onto monumental slabs of cheap granite. Floating in me, two forces join and near a ******. Above my clavicle, closest to the tainted essence nesting in between white skull and black heart. The forces fall like dead and wingless rocks from Heaven.
I try to remove my phantom from you. I try to put myself in your new shoes.
The old ones discarded with the techniques of innocence and lessons of a true first love.
You glow now. From every glossy cover I see you are strong and your wounds smoothed.
The trenches filled and paved. Lonely cathedrals blossom from your naked body. We all wait quietly to worship and sacrifice. Our scratchings wait and you open your mouth.
You open your legs and we baptise our sins in the crashing. We are all reborn of you, inside you.
Away and always this Hell turns back.

Somewhere far away, MI.

The third hurricane. And the few parts that skip, pierced and questioning. Two kinds answer with the days of telephoto webs, before there was much more to be said.

Diamonds spill over floors, on fingers then become squares from the tub's refuge. Fitting places for best friends.

Seas of sweat sway and break near the stucco. Final snowslide in ecstasy just before the window. Seasons of emotion and music hold no breaths.
The snow searches. Wondering influx.

"Just beyond the lungs, the soul waits."
Tragedy.
Prebuscent tears she's held onto for years.
Not to see her cry. For tonight her eyes must stay bright.
In this stranger's bed, she knows what happens next.
Fancy breakfast.
Fancy poolside.
With her all her friends by her side.
From a phone call.
For a plane ride.
And now this is your life.

Oh young beauty fade.
Young beauty fade.
Tragedy.
With all the locks secured, having noticed my security, a voice whispers and life becomes complete.
Fleeting words, passion tumbles from the ceiling. With epiphanies, little rooms left bare for my own discoveries. The life of rhythm is disrupted. A new medicine for use in moderation.
A guitar, fragile with echoes of perfection.
But what else is there to keep?
A sunset fades and a new line is born.
This is what we truly want. This is freedom and a chance for options.
Xyz.
Consequence sings and I sleep.
My mask becomes me and we wake. But is there something else?
Complete with losing my mind before the moments find you.
Two songs play in the kitchen and my choice remains unsung.
Heros rush in and civilians wake.
Peace moves toward the light.
A silk blouse for the funeral. Only to fall far down the grave.

With a gift I move forward and destroy myself.
A beating of youth'youth's innocence.
The curve shivers and cradles this loss in rigid angles.
Doorknobs above this plane twist and turn in strange resonance.
Light removes our square from its rest.
The curve remembers this and falls in haste. Searching for new ground.

A page turns. A movement is born.

This hole opens. Chambers become themselves thrice over.
Tragedy.
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