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"Bad Needs"

I want the pain
But only the kind I know is coming.
I want to know I can survive it.
I'm afraid of delusion.
What throws me off is more painful
Than when I'm face-to-face.
With years I've learned not to display it;
That sense of impending doom.
I've learned to live partly in moments
For the sake of those moments.
But I'll never be thrown off guard.
That's one thing that can't happen.
I'll rest when I'm rendered incapable
Of fighting monsoons.
One of these days I
Might comment on a poem
Of yours. It might
Be painful but I will
be safe as I would have
Warned you beforehand.
 

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Magician and Demons

I am a magician after my heart breaks
Sneaking into my bedroom,
softly close the door I self-built.
I cut myself down to bone
carving out what is worth keeping.

Guts explode from my chest,
my execution a murder mystery.
‘You do not matter’
smeared in blood on the wall.
Red caution tape
Sting of a death I barely remember
reverberates through hallways
I spent trying to escape.

Specializing in compartmentalizing demons,
I drag out my treasure chest
hidden under the floorboard.
Pandora rests on the edge of my fingertips
A collection of young and old tongues
camouflaged as a music box.
Is it possible to make wicked sound sweet?

Performing my own exorcism religiously,
regurgitate every nerve interlocked in me.
Her bones cracking,
soundtrack to my suffering.
I am out of body,
watching my soul burn under my feet.

Heart dangling from my mouth,
I spit out what no longer serves me.
 

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From the Soul of a Generation

Let me take you back in time
To nineteen-hundred and ninety-nine
The days of Evil Dead marathons
LAN parties and anime cons

To be a young adult or teen
To learn from what we'd heard and seen
Pursuing desire without shame
Living life like it's a game

Not that we shirked what was our charge
While we balanced duty with living large
It's more that we just didn't see
The purpose of futility

So many of us since then, it seems
Have given up the cause and deemed
Futility to be worthwhile
Walking all those extra miles

But some of us still hold dear
To fun and freedom instead of fear
We won't give up, we won't bow down
To the suits who wear such phony crowns

False crowns that represent misery
They don't seek work/life synergy
Why should we willingly be enslaved
To an idolatrous system so depraved?

They called us "slackers" way back then
But no matter how many years it's been
They still don't think we're worth a wage
That matches up with our general age

There's no future under the status quo
But don't oppress yourself with endless woe
The fight for freedom isn't done
So live your life and have some fun
 

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When Imagination Imagines

When Imagination imagines –
Her frame she drapes in red.
Fine white pearls her neck circle
Like a ring – it's said.

Walks she then down Childhood's street –
Proceeding in high heels.
Crispy leaves the edges line
Like a rope – that reels.

Imagination – Childhood meets –
Beneath the tree of Destiny.
Ponder they – their secret bond –
Why existent it must be.

Arrive – they do – at Age's grave-
Lit by Freedom's moon.
Fireflies to them sing –
The autumn breeze joins soon.



Honeysuckle and the Dream I Hid

Vacancy bathes itself in the unsurprised blue. Petite leaves embody
A wall and wave as honeysuckle fastens my

Solitude into its grave: a kind of play only
Flowers can carry all the way out.

The dream I hid still illuminates my insides: accentuating them
As if they were the leaves. My accidental

Fascination slides a liquid finger: an old friend's extremity
Up and down me internally.

Tube-like honeysuckle flowers flaunt their shadows:
Casting them over the hydrated lengths of grass

To scatter and disclose their dim fragments. It's afternoon:
The mild minutes of asking

Secrecy to disown me.
 

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"Settle"

You're in such a rush when time moves fast enough.
Always think you want more until the wrinkles form.
Then you instantly wish you'd known better before.
Don't take the loss from me calling your bluff.
Just settle down.
 
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