Friday, September 18, 2015

Compilation Poem for September 17, 2015

I forgot why I did this. It won't change how fast the hands move.  If the world would just end when it ends and kindly exit the stage after delivering its final line, but this is not so. You will get hurt with all that love lying around. I think I'll get a little high and hide beneath hoods, meditating and marching, seeking deeper connections between anyone, anything, everything, seeing you still as projections onto the silver screens of my eyes. If I were young I'd call this fate your hands long embracing. But your mumbling mocks my mortified memory and I live in lost lies.

She emerged in froth and foam sitting on the beach, chin on knees because it was too long to be away from home wanting nothing more than to hold him in the stillness of 4 am, lying on the cheap and worn carpet of his living room, but it would cost her quadrillions all the heavens that weep, lying in rubble.

The snow slowed all the world, silencing quiet. And the kindred bones, they ached. And they moaned.

Compiled by Devin

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