THE GREY
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High five!
Go! Go! Go!
Do! Yes! Do!
Keep that tash growin’
Yesvember’s goin’
… g/r/e/a/t …
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midnight lullaby
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there
there
nowhere
apocalypse awash; ahistorical reverence
there
there
nowhere
dancer shredded thin; blades of turmoil greased
there
there
nowhere
stage abandoned
left;
by crutches
exit right
there
there
nowhere
soon soon sleeping; go dream! go poetic hurling!
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Waiting at Market Hill
People coming
Going places
Ugly
Someone selling love
on a stick
I wait
my turn
to
suck up the word
of the Preacher
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Memento Mori
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You cannot know the shakes that come
before the final downfall, the shivers
that makes you sweat, turning inside
out without knowing thirst.
You cannot see the bars that trapped me,
up and down the boulevard of dreams,
their greetings never stopped, their arms
pulling me down; slowly drowning.
You cannot see the bars that caged me,
in the fields of glory, the bliss and
unfulfilled desires the wind that made
the crop circles cry.
You cannot hear the wailing from the
tears that fell before me, in the darkness
and the hour of the wolf, by the lakeside
we became, and lost.
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A day like many others,
the turning of pages; and
clocks ticking over. I get
older as I try and drown
my sorrows in alcohol-
free beer, how about that
dear friends. Pondering
upon the merits of Plutarch
and Dio, both on the paper
before me, one in my ears;
screaming. All dead, yet still
very much alive, and present.
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On my tree of knowledge
leaves are letting go without wind
Autumn inside and out
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The purpose of Life is to become
// with //
Every Death making a new chapter
// and! //
Greet every day as though the sun shines
// just because you can //
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