Visual Drafts

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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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