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my nervous system is delicate as a catgut string Stradivarius line-of-life between a novice's fingers and a guillotine
By ParadoxFox3 years ago in Poets
Hey, Dear, I'm not interested in being spoken to like that Your words carry unnecessary edges like those razor blades stuck to the monkey bars
My bed is cold, your scent is gone I grasp for what was--even a shred so I'm left with melancholy and memories, but never regret
the goal of life is to experience because our form determines our function with body parts dedicating themselves to perceiving
there's a weight to my eyes and soul you strip with soft words and singing and amidst this, the best of me halts the worst parts beginning
was once new to the campus grew stoic like Camus: I got drugged on the campus hungry, unthinking by temptress was handed
dearest children, do you want the red or the blue sippy cup? a fork or a spoon to eat up every bitter bit of the nasty dinner you don't want?
In my den, the smoke thickens a space made redolent with waves of white plum and transmuted to chars --the remnants of stagnation,