Tag Archives: thoughts

cynics know no light

i once begged visions of orange to loft their skin by their lashes, eager to mold reason through glances. but it all became mute in retroflextives. i figured the city put stars on a shelf with it’s swollen hands so … Continue reading

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wrangling dust

it’s a votive for confidence; a feather threaded through the ear, forging for motives spooled by powder or ashes. but there are no ashes for my sin never rests in bed. my watch still flares over chasm. a motto in quasi … Continue reading

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Chai tea

It’s the first snow footprints; we all fall into them like smiles and similes of what it’s like to smile. They think it’s the caffeine but the path would be sneezing by now. Instead they should ask what it means … Continue reading

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only if there’s a last supper after my “last supper…”

if i let my tongue burn, sometimes i think i would die. sometimes i think i would die if i let you fall under my breath where i hide my bread crumbs. it’s because they didn’t teach me misery right. … Continue reading

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As Silence Reflects

I click my bones against you to know my hollow. My skin shades in transparence until I am glass. I am fragile tainted glass; tinted, unworthy. My bones open for your transcendence. I welcome shatter. Please, your fire binds my … Continue reading

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The philosophy of Santa

The crickets know my first name sdrawkcab|||backwards and annunciate in puzzles so the night is far less dim to my senses. Our pieces shade contrast. We break-even in consequence, my answers whisper for irrelevance as joy sleighs in the sky. … Continue reading

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untitled

break down. result impressionable, peaked– i refluxed. i entered here before choice cumbered as so. and such, i am motion. i feature as posture over blades of light…

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tumble weed

that is my pride you took, my bones you rattled to crisp burnt sienna– a hue of distraction. repulsion for such twists of auburn, curls disregarded and tumbled for weeds. now i brush in dust that you have woven and … Continue reading

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gulp.

lingering in the pit of my throat is a stomach aching to be reassured; the present lies to present for unknown– for absurd absurdity. i think… i think i think too much, not of what life people may breathe but … Continue reading

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they call it a panic attack… or acid flashback

i timed how many thoughts left and made their way past the moon. why did i drape in smoke? my thumbs stay active, flicking ashes, pretending sanity can be caught through a filter; i’m done spinning webs of my own. … Continue reading

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