AfterA Poem by Jackson Krauss Blind PainterAfter He trembled, Wheezing for breath in a way only a pursued man can. But he was the pursuer, Searching desperately for a way to begin all of his past endings again, To stave off the new with the newer, and start used. He was the hunted, running miles away from all those inside of him, Who each wanted nothing more than a piece of who he will be. Tomorrow was a death sentence, A gift he wanted to return for market price self-worth. I sat hunched, thought lost in me. My friend would say I’m praying; But if so, it’s the praying the Sky did after it invented Storm clouds to fit in, but then forgot how to make a sunset. They will be the future: The choices that will each have to be Unmade, And then meticulously shown how to walk again, Barely able to keep pace with ourselves. They will keep on running from themselves, Chasing after their hopes and dreams and tails, All the way until their fears catch up with them, And make them: Into you and me. © 2009 Jackson Krauss Blind Painter |
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Added on April 9, 2009 Last Updated on April 9, 2009 AuthorJackson Krauss Blind PainterAlbuquerque, NMAbout"But sometimes, it seems so much simpler to think in terms of matching the preceeding, that I get lost in all the letters, mail I get from my heart to my head, and back again, all saying nothing more .. more..Writing
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