The GoalsA Poem by Alfred Kukitznow in the limelightThe Goals 7 crosses the lips of yesterday You surmise a tale conjuring up dead soil Your weighted in the hour of destiny Like a cat you want to lunge forth clawing the sacred object of desire A huge self stands on your shoulders keeping destiny at bay Should you find the strength in resistance Swallow the half self into desire Lay the trap as whole entwines the body politic and you find now as a master of goals. © 2016 Alfred KukitzReviews
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StatsAuthorAlfred KukitzDeering, NHAboutYes, I'm still here. Just jazzing up my about me story. Sorry I don't die at the end. more..Writing
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