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Dusted Violet

don’t betray my sweet within
to say
without not core cold measure wit
to say but not just to say
chill winded my sweet parade
catch close before we fall into
weep within

caroling con
can’t cast fizzle wits
but stuffed
we sleep
sleep sleep sleep sleep
waking onwards

Composition #66

engines are running
it’s time
for silence
or wherewith to be
all wrapped up like a sandwich
always running
in circles around my own head

& even
so folded up like paper cranes
with a book
propped up to go
get out get out get out
my own head

Today Is That Day

cowards die many
these tugging deaths if
day beware into the technicolor
waves of anxiety pulling me back no idle theme
of ghost
strings today is that away make
no weak & this ache
all by break
but shadows have offended the cinemascope dream & obsession
drifted into seafoam your galaxies
& have & all times before their dream

Out in the Great Wide Open

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the online environments I and many, many other people participate in. As I see more friends leaving or taking long breaks from Facebook and Twitter because they don’t consider their experiences there healthy, I wonder “What is the point of these sites? Is it a good point?” (Continued)

Dancing on Starlight

i used to think
my heart would burst from
all the dreams & storms
inside but
clocks &
calendars &
red flags
turn the world to cold grey stone
& even in a crowd
you feel alone

give me lightning & oceans
& big pink heart-eyes
forever enchanted & drunk
if we’re not spending
time dancing on starlight
you’re never going to
win my grand prize
looking at me with cold grey eyes

because if we’re not stumbling
like baudelaire
dancing down a street
made of starlight
racing through corridors to save the world
i would rather
sleep alone
slamming out the nights of cold grey stone