Posts
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who am I?
fresh out of the plane,
weary eyed and sickly pale,
I trudge.
deep within my suitcase, I carry a passport I don't want to show to anyone,
even if they ask for ID.
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the misery of love
every time you look at me
with your soft eyes,
tan skin,
and a nose you used to hate,
I mourn the loss of the love I once held for you.
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the promise of strength
in all its glory, the new world stood before them.
a wide expanse of green stretching out beneath their feet,
leading sailors towards an unknown future.
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A Dream At What Cost
at the bottom of my bag is a book,
lying there like a security blanket I'm afraid to touch.
my seat feels cold as ice as I sit down in the room where not one pen or pencil is seen in sight,
Loves
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Mr. Red ( ever so slightly revised)
There is a man on the corner of 87th and Amsterdam. I do not know him, and he does not know me. He wears a red T-shirt with red sweatpants. He wears a red coat with red shoes. He wears a red ski mask on his face.
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Midwestern Night
Midwestern night.
There’s something out in the fields,
Something banging on the roof.
Fresh vomit in the toilet.
The sink is running, so you can’t
Hear your own heavy breathing.
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slippery, sunlit silence
Once, we met.
My hair was up, and the world was coated with snow,
and you
talked to me with wide blue eyes
and a slippery smile, easy to fall into.
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A tribute to the observer.
Although I’d likely consider myself shy and coy,
Occasionally withdrawn from the crowd,
There are many facets of an observer.
For one,The ultimate observer can detect feigned emotion,