Random Unsorted Drafts

No stone; unturned,

No spell; unspoken,

No truth out there,

There; on the stair,

I sit,

I ponder,

I am stale,

I am sorrow,

The dreams I have are

not of tomorrows,

,

Hear me! Gods of Dawn,

Hear me! Lucy; lucidly dreaming,

Dreaming; screaming,

I stink; of yesterdays,

I stink; of mold growing,

I sink; slowly,

I ink; poorly,

I age without dignity,

I age,

too,

fast

vrtl6

After [pause]

a decade of drought; a minor dry spell,

I don the virtual-world helmet, and

It all comes back to me,

sex; pure and virtual,

physical or imagined,

bouncing or … not,

becomes once again,

reality

Whisps of white mist linger

Between Thumb and Index finger

Grasping the gravity of patterns

Energy is all and that which matters

My hands thus hover on scarred tissues

Reflecting not on personal issues

Channeling the love that is all around

Universal healing for you is inbound

the train of thought

pulled through the wastelands of life 

powered by a steam engine extraordinaire 

incapable of accepting defeat or

surrender

Sestra – will we ever be family again; I sigh

Sestra – you were the normal one; tick tock

Sestra – you followed the rules; acted sane

Sestra – you fooled no one; but mother

Sestra – will you ever come home; again

Sestra – do you feel; the responsibility

Sestra – I feel; lost again

Sestra – I want; nothing here

Sestra – I am; no longer good

Sestra – what is the point

Dank u wel

Satan Supplied Seven Sweet Sickly Songs

Dank u wel – I say

Beneath our midnight moon of horrors

Dank u wel – I say

Partaking in fires lowly dancing

Dank u wel – I say

Satan supplied us, then left us standing

Dank u wel – I say

To fend for our own survival

Dank u wel – I say

Singing songs of freedom,

Singing songs of joy,

Singing songs of praise,

Dank u wel – I say

0x7D0 words to evaluate 

to what extent the human kind

reflects before choosing leisurely pursuits

reflects on flourishing as human beings

reflects on philosophers long deceased

understanding leisure the theme this week

hail procrastination; hail the power of delay

hail the coming of the end; I say

I play video games

from born to die she calls

a paradise for two expressed

yet alone I stand 

yet alone I sit 

among my own debris 

awaiting a sanctimonious call

from a god almighty

from a god all-knowing 

wanting merely to know 

why

my score is so low

the reasons for my struggles

and the art of Jaysome

There are only seven days remaining,

two thousand words unwritten still,

an empty page does greet my eyes,

this morning as did yesterday’s

.

To what end will my skills suffice,

to pass the hurdle of endless drafts,

to please my tutor; though marking not,

this my best of works; my crowning glory

A vivid pictorial of sorts

My headstone covered in moss

I long to rest between shadows of four

Among trees; in the woodland cemetery

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