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Red eyelids, blue world
What is concrete but rocks and stone?
What am I but marrow and bone?
Tiny flowers poke up through the grass
Spring..
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I am but a wave in the midst of fearsome vast water;
I can no more change the pattern of the sea
Than man can count the countless stars.
Here..
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This is surely not
(as I had thought)
The winter night
Of my life
Out comes the moon,
To keep company the stars
And feel them smile..
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parody of lord byron's 'she walks in beauty'
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I am the shadow behind trees,
The whisper between the branches
That you cannot account for in the still night.
Green are my eyes like my ..
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Hush, whisper hush; our sounds cannot escape the confines of
these walls,
A small sanctuary of blankets and the ever present buzz of a
fan
..
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work in progress
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....workshop short story drawing on some repressed memories.
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Crowded streets blaring with the city’s breath, a choking
smog full of neon dreams,
Sidewalks paved with dead ambition, lit..
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Empty words.
Light fading slowly across the walls, an entire day wasted.
Crumpled remains of failed art projects littering the floor,
..
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