My Every Last Day

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
We all know how tough life can be, but what are good times without knowing hard times. With each inch you take towards the edge in your everyday life, you go through different obstacles and levels of moral. I write my vision of that very feeling.....Enjoy

Submitted: February 04, 2014

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Submitted: February 04, 2014

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My Every Last Day

The strong waves of energy that a human body can observe let alone stand before releasing.......I soak my body into life and sponge it dearly but yet so sensitive in the folds and the creasing.......Toxic senses from the air that I breathe to the sound that I hear but still hold my body responsible to filter.......I seek truth in my memory navigated by a homemade compass made out of leftover bitter.......The blue moon arrives and so does the chances to capitalize like once in a sentence.......I find myself following the yellow brick road to only see the mirrored image of OZ.......That first clean crispy cold fresh breath of air you inhale in a combust area of your own radius.......A first person picture shooter with color contacts to Kodak the moment.......Savoring the time while stuck in an illusion among stars in space.......I Earth, I moon, and therefore I Sun.......As big, or as small, I parallel myself to a nucleus that I cell myself.......Maximus is the name of my sensitive ego, but only my competition knows that.......Mind me not, therefore I am Me in this matter involved in an unsolved equation.......My mystery, her mystical, my magic to her physical.......She, her, girl, woman, mother, daughter, Ms., Miss, and my Mrs.......Wonders of the world leave no evidence to the eye of the norm.......I will not be left undefined but with meaning I will leave an action verb curve.......The End?

 

-Mazzeeekah


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