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My eyes are not a sunrise
they are flickering candle light
the warmth between misery
and catastrophe
Inbetween
the grey of the matter
the me..
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I am spilt milk
and cable cars
I am crashing, rusted seams
screeching and fumbling at the halt
I am the follower of weaving, wavering lines
o..
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The indentations in my voicedo not match yours. The lilies here grew sour,malnourished and unsung tofar past dying, but still youpersisted.When you li..
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He told mewe could sleep beneath the sheetsand pretend the moon came out between the thread countHe told meeverything I already knew about himselfand ..
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The thumpthumpthumping, I'm told, feels like home. I suppose, being made from the muscle of stonemakes the consistency necessary. But, to me it's just..
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I don't know you, but I will dissect you into a bask more humid or less than Iand I will pretend that I know youand who you are and who your shadows m..
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There is no fall here,only palm trees and pines,no oranges or yellows, or leavesreally;no seasons just rain and sunshine.Is there anywhere anymorethat..
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There are nights thatremind me of the cityand when those certainsound waves hit my aerials I have an urge to close these blindsfrom red, to black to t..
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I moved into the wave creststrying to live in their symmetry.Turns out, they're not so symmetrical.Their illusions lie and their calm is thesame as me..
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I keep reading poetry aboutdeath and suicideand cancer and sorrowand crashes and cadavers and f*****g and drowningand flames of love and how easily pe..
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