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Written by Aubrey

Reagan III: Further Discourse

Reagan:

Draw the snake up through the throat

and lick no wounds.

Poison is a solid defense. 

Stoke the coals with your fingrtips. 

So much for those nails now. 

The opponent:

You're bating me

and I give in less

more and more

but

it isn't quantifiable

the weight of your process. 

I caught you up today 

and watched you play around the pitfalls 

quick and bright like pinball flashes...

the machine sings...

and I 

just

watched.

For today at least,

your rope around my neck is only threads. 

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Written by Aubrey
Reagan III: Further Discourse
Reagan:
Draw the snake up through the throat
and lick no wounds.
Poison is a solid defense. 
Stoke the coals with your fingrtips. 
So much for those nails now. 

The opponent:
You're bating me
and I give in less
more and more
but
it isn't quantifiable
the weight of your process. 

I caught you up today 
and watched you play around the pitfalls 
quick and bright like pinball flashes...
the machine sings...
and I 
just
watched.
For today at least,
your rope around my neck is only threads. 
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Written by Aubrey

Reagan II

The opponent answers:

Forget, remember:

these words 

over and over.

I'm finding sometimes 

silence 

is the best lover. 

Bereft of anything like a sense of self,

how can I elude you? 

Left alone you find the hidden things 

and make them yours. 

You take the mystery 

and make it horror.

The bark ~is~ the bite but 

you are less alive each cry

because ~I see you.~

There is no need for light

when you know what's in the shadow. 

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Written by Aubrey
Reagan II
The opponent answers:

Forget, remember:
these words 
over and over.
I'm finding sometimes 
silence 
is the best lover. 
Bereft of anything like a sense of self,
how can I elude you? 
Left alone you find the hidden things 
and make them yours. 
You take the mystery 
and make it horror.
The bark ~is~ the bite but 
you are less alive each cry
because ~I see you.~
There is no need for light
when you know what's in the shadow. 
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Written by Aubrey

Reagan Replies

Cut the heart

to play the strings. 

Let the blood fill up the empty parts. 

If you're smart,

You'll take these things and leave.

This is no place for anyone

especially if they use bedskirts

and those whose drapes match their curtains. 

Pull the teeth out by the root

to taste the fruit,

but there is rot behind the tooth, 

and if you know what's good for you,

you'll leave it all behind. 

There's nothing left worth saving. 

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Written by Aubrey
Reagan Replies
Cut the heart
to play the strings. 
Let the blood fill up the empty parts. 
If you're smart,
You'll take these things and leave.
This is no place for anyone
especially if they use bedskirts
and those whose drapes match their curtains. 

Pull the teeth out by the root
to taste the fruit,
but there is rot behind the tooth, 
and if you know what's good for you,
you'll leave it all behind. 
There's nothing left worth saving. 
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Written by Aubrey

Reagan

The opponent begins: 

I built him strong

a seven foot juggernaut

a grey suited stranger

a red-eyed cloak and dagger.

Dreamed a beast

and nurtured him

gave him names

and grew him up 

took the time to talk

invest

dwell on futures

(nostalgia in reverse.)

Building him 

I knew every weakness.

I knew all the sore spots. 

Knew how 

to tell him no

until I saw he was doing all the growing 

on his own, 

and he's ever so big.

He can reach from my beginning

to the end of everything,

but he loves his mother.

He consumes me,

he loves me so much. 

So much 

he tells my thoughts where to go

and he'll never leave,

that he'll stay a part of me...

speak my words

and crack my bones 

and love me

to death. 

My mother used to say,

"I brought you in,

I can take you out."

I hope it really works that way.

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Written by Aubrey
Reagan
The opponent begins: 

I built him strong
a seven foot juggernaut
a grey suited stranger
a red-eyed cloak and dagger.
Dreamed a beast
and nurtured him
gave him names
and grew him up 
took the time to talk
invest
dwell on futures
(nostalgia in reverse.)
Building him 
I knew every weakness.
I knew all the sore spots. 
Knew how 
to tell him no
until I saw he was doing all the growing 
on his own, 
and he's ever so big.
He can reach from my beginning
to the end of everything,
but he loves his mother.
He consumes me,
he loves me so much. 
So much 
he tells my thoughts where to go
and he'll never leave,
that he'll stay a part of me...
speak my words
and crack my bones 
and love me
to death. 
My mother used to say,
"I brought you in,
I can take you out."
I hope it really works that way.
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Written by Aubrey

A Note to My Demons

You get

quiet

some days

and I wonder where you've gone

afraid of the return

with that part of my insides between my lungs and my stomach

because you always do. 

There's nowhere to hide from you

but you blanket me in nothingness

and coax me to the void. 

Molecular scale seduction.

Your truths are silk spider web tapestries

weaving sticky stories

so well designed

I can't look away.

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Written by Aubrey
A Note to My Demons
You get
quiet
some days
and I wonder where you've gone
afraid of the return
with that part of my insides between my lungs and my stomach
because you always do. 
There's nowhere to hide from you
but you blanket me in nothingness
and coax me to the void. 
Molecular scale seduction.
Your truths are silk spider web tapestries
weaving sticky stories
so well designed
I can't look away.


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Written by Aubrey

Blood boils,

almost like water, 

more like that bubbly asphalt tar in southern summer, 

so

hot, 

it melts the sole. 

Sure, 

 butterflies

with twitterpated flippant wings

thrash about 

in something not unlike ecstacy

but 

if you look close enough,

if you can focus clearly,

you can see a sad little frozen heart

beat itself 

to death.

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Written by Aubrey
Blood boils,
almost like water, 
more like that bubbly asphalt tar in southern summer, 
so
hot, 
it melts the sole. 

Sure, 
 butterflies
with twitterpated flippant wings
thrash about 
in something not unlike ecstacy
but 
if you look close enough,
if you can focus clearly,
you can see a sad little frozen heart
beat itself 
to death.
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Written by Aubrey

It is Written

I could thumb the pages 

of your book

smell the binding

feel nostalgic skimming sentences

but the metaphor 

is lost on me. 

My glorified-grocery-list stanzas 

pale in comparison 

to your compendium.

Together though

our prose

made quite a boring plot,

but what do you expect 

when you print the ending 

in the dust jacket?

 

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Written by Aubrey
It is Written

I could thumb the pages 
of your book
smell the binding
feel nostalgic skimming sentences
but the metaphor 
is lost on me. 

My glorified-grocery-list stanzas 
pale in comparison 
to your compendium.

Together though
our prose
made quite a boring plot,
but what do you expect 
when you print the ending 
in the dust jacket?
 



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Written by Aubrey

To speak, or not to speak...

Fervent words on repurposed paper

singing the comical death 

lamenting sore esitence.

The dissonance is beatuiful

behind broken knuckles 

and gnawed-raw cuticles.

Salted synapses dry intentions.

The lines are a map 

with crytic directions

and terrible dimensions

and I am lost trying to make sense 

of where I was headed in the first place. 

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Written by Aubrey
To speak, or not to speak...
Fervent words on repurposed paper
singing the comical death 
lamenting sore esitence.

The dissonance is beatuiful
behind broken knuckles 
and gnawed-raw cuticles.

Salted synapses dry intentions.
The lines are a map 
with crytic directions
and terrible dimensions
and I am lost trying to make sense 
of where I was headed in the first place. 







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Written by Aubrey

You asked what it feels like...

 facing destiny 

with a clear intention to fail;

 a reminder 

that you're late for something you never planned to attend,

feared going, 

but said, "Maybe."

 Like burning, 

the intense need to pull away from the flame;

 running away

knowing it's the wrong direction

 leaning into the wind 

hoping to fall 

but be caught just as quick;

 genuinely trying to be nice

and failing miserably;

 waiting on soap 

for my six year old Sailor's mouth;

 floating, 

solid

but buoyant in the waves, 

the ever present threat of drowning.

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Written by Aubrey
You asked what it feels like...
 facing destiny 
with a clear intention to fail;
 a reminder 
that you're late for something you never planned to attend,
feared going, 
but said, "Maybe."
 Like burning, 
the intense need to pull away from the flame;
 running away
knowing it's the wrong direction
 leaning into the wind 
hoping to fall 
but be caught just as quick;
 genuinely trying to be nice
and failing miserably;
 waiting on soap 
for my six year old Sailor's mouth;
 floating, 
solid
but buoyant in the waves, 
the ever present threat of drowning.

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Written by Aubrey

"I Have No Need For Friendship"

It may be the beer

but

FUCK your "Happy New Year"

exquisitely articulate

signing the Fuck off. 

I should take lessons from you in letting go 

so easily.

Forgive me 

-or don't-

but 

FUCK your "you're welcome"

cold and calculated

aimed 

Dead Center. 

Loyalty is subjective. 

Hide it in gardens filled with thorns. 

Only the brave 

or desperate 

will find it. 

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Written by Aubrey
"I Have No Need For Friendship"
It may be the beer
but
FUCK your "Happy New Year"
exquisitely articulate
signing the Fuck off. 
I should take lessons from you in letting go 
so easily.
Forgive me 
-or don't-
but 
FUCK your "you're welcome"
cold and calculated
aimed 
Dead Center. 
Loyalty is subjective. 
Hide it in gardens filled with thorns. 
Only the brave 
or desperate 
will find it. 


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