philosophical disaster

preferred the night because i
have to make a choice
in the time that can be chosen again
like a desperate song played
on a deserving hour for a friend
spared the moments
of fond memories of a definitive closeness
perhaps the
happiness received will be re-lived one day
interested in the message that is
carefully hidden beneath the surface
as if a fish that preferred the darkness or
letting the spider go back outside
during the moments of silence
if you look you can practically
see the words hanging there in the air
after you read the whole thing
seems like there was a hard left turn
that reminds me of cooking with too much salt
every time i need to be comforted i can
remember you are here
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intensifying years

including the vast array of
nights when we couldn’t stop yawning
the price paid for precious fun
entire weeks where there is
not enough rest to make up for the excitement
showing just enough energies to
introduce the desires
for a real gentile landing of
your lounging on a coushion
inspired to recall much of my past
neutral ground living conditions
growing more and more each passing day
yearning for the touch of your hand
exquisite and delicate like a jungle flower
as i get tired i just have to
remember your kiss and then the time is
suspended for just that one moment
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shared struggles

so there is a number of books in the
house while open may never be read
and around the chair a few
randomly crumpled papers that
each have a mostly completed composition
drawn delicately in dark ink and darker words
some of the decorating had seen
thoroughly better days and
right when one was almost complete another was started
until the day the door was
going to be opened no more
got some music tattooed on the walls
like a painting being constructed from scraps
every day i pray for the return
so nothing gets moved or touched
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intimate confused

if it was a day being symbolized
no sunshine where i walked would happen
the outfit being worn could be the representation
if it was made entirely of grey
maybe it could be the watch ticking
as it keeps pace with the passing hours
that watch would have to be so black it is unreadable
even the music could signify if
coming out of an icy lake while naked was a song
or the shoebox in the backyard soil was
now where the soul and heart reside yet
for an icon of the mind
use the broken car that still drives
shattered glass like the mind’s eye
every word spoken sounds like it is broken
don’t know where next year will lead
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permanent hoping

playful when we first met
ending the night with laughing and often
rolling around on the floor
maybe just one wall up, half protected
and the i watched you laughing too, but
needing to look out through giant defences and
every wall is backed up by another larger one
now i put up my own
tough ways to show less and
having the ability to remain accurately guarded
only to not show the overwhelming
passion very often and drown down the fury of life
in each wave which captures my emotion
now i cannot fall too hard or too fast yet
getting over that suffocation is not easy
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nearly forgotten

not far from where i am sitting
ended the period of life before my first kiss
after that was a long slow walk
reflections off water the only light seen
lost minds with hearts
young and aware of exactly where they are
falling from the sky little touches of frosty white
only dripping water and crunching underfoot for sounds
refined breath and steaming cups
getting the feel for some hot stew weather
one long month away from
those bright moon nights under warm blankets
tasty hot chocolate and
everyone outside of this comfiness does not exist
nearby the glowing warmth of touch
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never prepared then

now the horizon brightens up
entering the land not visited
very little dots of light where
each campfire is keeping company
reduced to the last moment before the sky fades black
pops from burning wood echo and
ricochet like the
environment itself it twitching
playing its own soundtrack from
around the river to the shadows on the
ridge edge and among the rock line
ended by the opening of the valley
dying leaves clinging to those branches
twisting group of breeze dance around social circles
however long it takes the night lives for this
experience that encapsulates timelessness
near darkness hides eternal understandings
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needed weekends

nicely spaced out conversations
each one revealing a bit of motivation
existing just to remind of what
decisions i came to a few years ago
ending the time where i
devote myself so someone i knew
would not like me as much as i like them
emitting the desire to only be near kind souls
even if that means putting mean ones out of thier misery
kingdoms, cottages, and caves
everyone has a home to return to
now that the end of the time of upheaval
died in the arms of a war that perished
so the citizens sing the praises of the land not the steel
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abstract speaking

across the air
beginning sounds of a
storm arriving and it is the kind
that makes me want to be out in it
rain and soft wind and a fog
as if the storm wants to kind of hide whoever
comes out and wanders around
thinking while simply
strolling through the surface of clouds
places you in a very specific mood
electric blue and a feel for breathing moisture
all heavy and wanting to slow down a step
kind of like a hangover without any drink
if we make it through this then
nothing can stop what the future can mean
giving up is not something i ever do
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clouds mothering

coming down the mountain
like a bat out of heaven
over the forest of silent faces
under those clouds which
dive deep in the valleys this time of year
some of the air connecting down
mountain tops keep all of its chill
only plants and animals saw
this shift in seasons long before it happened
hearts that sensed it before the minds
even thought about what was arriving
readiness that comes with a dose of excitement
i have been getting out the coats or socks
now i know what is coming like it or not
got to get the head on straight
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