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Category: Poetry

waking

  up in the morning before the sun rises      too early too fucking early lately it seems unwilling to disperse clouds covering this ravaged land in wet blankets […]

Chipped paint

beside the chipped paint of this aged 
mansion a bird the 
size of...

Again

I know you. I have always known you.

One Morning

it is 5 a.m. the dark room is still the air is sweet with you

Dance

...the shadow of my youth, in a form that never was, dances on the walls of this poorly lit shell i occupy so briefly...

(Im)Purity

"Oh Lord, help me to be pure, but not yet." - Saint Augustine No, not yet, not today Today I want to take you in my arms and plant kisses of fire on your neck