the baker and the lovely bee.

scared of all

that endless loss

which you taught me

to fear

on creeping hands

of worn out time

at reach for all

thats dear

in painful shriek

at bells behest

and darkened nights

shrill toll

crouch i in pain

of too much gone

blind now

but for my soul

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little one stays.

for all i can do

theres just all that i cant

in the great disarray

that is i

and in all that this seems

theres no easy way out

save for waiting for all this

to die.

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in wonder of an even mattress.

in the intermittent

pain of now

i beg for small

reprieve,

of ever falling

ancient tears

in sacramental

sieve..

between short stays

of halted breath

and ever shrinking

view -

live i alone

in shattered space

still blind in reach

of you.

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the praying atheist.

if i had your hand

holding mine tight

and you had my heart

scars and all,

we would

i believe

be

happy.

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think sally.

cant write.

need release.

and words-

just wont do it-

right-

now.

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the imperfect infidel.

to enter in

wet disarray

in seminal

retreat

and grasp at

straws entwined in hips

bowed low

to lusts defeat

in slippery space

of long held need

and plucked

at disbelief

kneel i in grace

of plundered moon

and drink of loves

relief

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funcused chicken

if that moment after

holds true at all

then this right here

just is.

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