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354 · Mar 2017
Hypocratic
Young Al Mar 2017
Doctor, please, take me out of quarantine,
I need fresh air to breathe, the sun to feel,
Seems queasy in here, this room shrinks,
It stinks, but it's not me, it's the environment,
Let me out, please, it's not my fault,
These walls, pads, and bars are not for my health

Doctor, please, have some sympathy
For a young life yearning to leave, this place it thieves
Of all healing, listen, there's nothing wrong with me,
I'm not broken, I'm fine, I'm burning inside
With a fever your medicine cannot aleve,
Yes, I'm weak,
But its your fault, not mine, open the door,
I implore,
So the world can welcome me with open arms and intimacy.
352 · May 2017
Current
Young Al May 2017
Like minnows through trawler nets
They get by

Neutrinos stream in my head
All the time

A gross grip on spinnerets
Catch a fly

Where are you in the wakeless night?
Close your eyes
159 · May 2018
Aquila
Young Al May 2018
Crouched, soaring through the cosmos
A sugar-coated menagerie
What follows is interest
Dot to dot for the hungry

Crowd, out pouring the swallows
A twinkle of opportunity
The cause most have missed
Dots a-line, and symmetry.

— The End —