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I haven't written in awhile. It feels good to channel things again. |
see the sunlight illuminate that spot on the wall that once carried a frame and the meaning of it all within those four corners was a hint of our fate and the candlelight vigil that would just have to wait. you see, I've found some color. That road runs ragged men of this insidious ilk cups full of whiskey and clouds of ripped silk we find comfort in our voice, which but freezes aloft And pray: though times may be rigid our hearts remain soft I see, I see the colors broken down dreams that refuse us their quick, timeless deaths and the preciousness of life that's now tallied in breaths. another year apathetic to phones and our friends. denial of destiny, but those stubborn, loose ends. This is the source of color. Oh black, canvas sky with your searing, stellar starlets only the wisest know them as damnable harlots. oh greed for these passions, oh lust for this pennant soul deliver this body homeward, deliver it whole. there is color yet in death, as the revolution of something abstract. so rise with a look of sublimity awoken, touch the creases that formed where the wrong words were spoken. draw curtains tight if that spot glares out ominously avert eyes to shame and the void left by honesty that is, if you're lacking color but if calm bravery stabs with a sword or a pen know it's reason, not god who is at those games again. with vision acute and intent no less than pious let in fair sunlight, make color of petty bias |