waking/wading/through wet cement

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 27, 2018

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Submitted: August 27, 2018

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“there is a mem’ry in my mind

that lies behind these hard stuffed eyes

although it’s hard, i sometimes try

to see a scene which had been faded

not erased, quite, no, never gone

but certainly, all ways, evaded”

 

 

-&Each time i open these heavy eyes, i see my Death has been belated-

 

“darkness, nighttime, the stars aren’t about

yet, i still hold this feeling of being knocked out--”

(It’s knocking close to my temples now,

but Who Here is responsible?)

--to say i gave it to myself may seem logical, i know...

 

“i do renounce the fear that one day i’ll burst, shout out

For i know my cowardice well, and that tendency has been devoured…

 

i also know, infallible,

the old greyhound runs every hour.”

 


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