Tender, Meet Death, Save Cancer

I shall have my great escape. 
Not at this hour, or close to this day. 
But note tender, I am coming. 
I but stroll in this corridor and listen. 
The voices call, some crawl, stall 
the inevitable free flight fall. 
Get into your ball, delicate doll. 
It is coming. 

The earth, dear tender, settles. 
Don’t meddle in what you don’t know. 
The label clearly said to only crack my skull 
if one needs to taste my scent 
or expire my soul. 

There you are Death. 
I’ve been looking. 
Take my hand, so we may take flight. 

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In Sync, Par Repetition

Is this moment in sync, or an act of repetition? 
I swear my last choice was a step forward, but everyone 
keeps telling me it’s just frantic reversal. 
Am I on route, or already buried beneath the path? 
Here I am, studying some stupid map, inching forward 
on borrowed fate, completely in debt of something for which 
I remain an ingrate, I see nothing here, certainly nothing to investigate, 
and I mean for fuck sakes, I’m already late! 

Please. Don’t judge me. 
I’m just trying to chase Ms. Reverie. 
Follow the…

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This Way to Mount Recollection

Welcome, welcome all! Look at you 
visitor, battered with travel and ruined 
with hope. All so out of the place 
to pay homage to the greatness leaving you 
white-faced. Caught in your footrace, 
your head seems as looped as 
your well worn shoelace. 

Yes, you have arrived at mount recollection. 

Go on, begin the escalation. Ponder not the 
endless defamation of your past love written 
upon the rocks you slip on, 
or the evergreens holding against the winds yawn. 
Oh, look at that horizon. 
It’s beautiful, I…

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I Am Unfiltered

I am unfiltered. 

I am, open. Exposed, my sails desperate to catch 
every last breath of life’s wind, accelerating me into the unknown. 
The fog of uncertainty. And I love conquering it. Head up, eyes closed, 
I’m always waiting for the storm. They say it is coming, 
that my honesty will strip me to the bone, 
a skeleton waiting to collect dust. 
It’s a real shame I’ve done that job for them. 

After all, I give them me. No scavenging the bible of social expectation. 
No bulldozing the truth, just to glimpse 

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The Annum

Not a day goes by that I don’t softly wonder if and why. 
But here you are, having joined me to rest in our nest of lies. 
Woman, could you let me know what you are? 
Strip your soul ever so slowly, tease me your name. 
There isn’t a hint of wonderlust, but I know we both hide with shame. 
Before we fall into a routine, and it’s all the same, 
let our hands linger long after we know it is too late. 

Isn’t it hard love, living the good life? 
You smile gently, hoping not to tell me much. 
As is such, I accept, as I…

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