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Written by Aubrey

Our fifth affair

pick apart the pieces

stuck together

glued together

tear apart by inches

tiny bits

broken parts

give them to the recesses

dark spaces

or open fields

give them up to replace them

with a deep hull

a solid shield

if i were any less a man 

i'd save it

tuck it away

keep it safe

if i were any less a man

You'd see it

fuck,

my Heart is seeping gold

and i don't want to stop it

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Written by Aubrey
Our fifth affair
pick apart the pieces
stuck together
glued together
tear apart by inches
tiny bits
broken parts
give them to the recesses
dark spaces
or open fields
give them up to replace them
with a deep hull
a solid shield
if i were any less a man 
i'd save it
tuck it away
keep it safe
if i were any less a man
You'd see it
fuck,
my Heart is seeping gold
and i don't want to stop it


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Written by Aubrey

Swallow hard.

The division in me is 

forced eyes.

Follow the fulcrum,

the pendulum, 

the transient hands

that hold them.

Sweep the membrane.

Chase the vein. 

This is not who I am.

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Written by Aubrey
Swallow hard.
The division in me is 
forced eyes.
Follow the fulcrum,
the pendulum, 
the transient hands
that hold them.
Sweep the membrane.
Chase the vein. 
This is not who I am.
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Written by Aubrey

I never grew up.

The truth is relative

-to the teller-

and I'm not so much dishonest 

as much as

unable

to decipher

the way the world works

and my cog's position in it

but we both keep turning.

You are an ocean away

in that vacant seat.

We were love on display

and now we are rotting meat. 

The mirror is clean

a work of art

fit to prove

the lesser truths

that are an arsenal.

There is more to me than this. 

There is no more of me than this.

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Written by Aubrey
I never grew up.
The truth is relative
-to the teller-
and I'm not so much dishonest 
as much as
unable
to decipher
the way the world works
and my cog's position in it
but we both keep turning.

You are an ocean away
in that vacant seat.
We were love on display
and now we are rotting meat. 

The mirror is clean
a work of art
fit to prove
the lesser truths
that are an arsenal.

There is more to me than this. 

There is no more of me than this.
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Written by Aubrey

There's a certain kind of loss

Dark face and weary eyes

The silence is never wasted

And the words all say themselves

At exactly the right the right time

Which was not spent miserly 

Or a spendthrift.

Furrowed brows and dripping cheeks

You don't have to speak.

Or give response

Let the world disappear 

And come back when you are ready

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Written by Aubrey
There's a certain kind of loss
Dark face and weary eyes
The silence is never wasted
And the words all say themselves
At exactly the right the right time
Which was not spent miserly 
Or a spendthrift.
Furrowed brows and dripping cheeks
You don't have to speak.
Or give response
Let the world disappear 
And come back when you are ready


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Written by Aubrey

Learning to Fly

I knew your face

and your mother's;

knew your eyes,

your smile.

Her hair's gone gray.

You remembered me

but I guess I've made myself a display.

Forty-five minutes of baring bones

and somehow that voice

changed things.

I have so little to give the world. 

My guts

are just

made of poisonous things

but there I was,

smiling.

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Written by Aubrey
Learning to Fly
I knew your face
and your mother's;
knew your eyes,
your smile.
Her hair's gone gray.
You remembered me
but I guess I've made myself a display.
Forty-five minutes of baring bones
and somehow that voice
changed things.
I have so little to give the world. 
My guts
are just
made of poisonous things
but there I was,
smiling.
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Written by Aubrey

Welcome Home, Red Dirt Girl

The bees are busy

(what's left of them, anyway)

and the frogs and crickets and cicadas 

like so many castanets

fill up the silence. 

The road ends here

culminating in a gravel drive

that slides up to the house 

reminding me that everything ends. 

Everything is temporary.

Here, you live with snakes and spiders.

Just be careful taking them to bed with you. 

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Written by Aubrey
Welcome Home, Red Dirt Girl
The bees are busy
(what's left of them, anyway)
and the frogs and crickets and cicadas 
like so many castanets
fill up the silence. 
The road ends here
culminating in a gravel drive
that slides up to the house 
reminding me that everything ends. 
Everything is temporary.
Here, you live with snakes and spiders.
Just be careful taking them to bed with you. 
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Written by Aubrey

Come back, come back.

Spinning thread 

For near the first time 

Hang tight 

The first step's a dousy

Buzz buzz

The divebomb gives wake to the air about the ears

Think fast

Don't move

Find root 

To drag up

Shake loose

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Written by Aubrey
Come back, come back.
Spinning thread 
For near the first time 
Hang tight 
The first step's a dousy
Buzz buzz
The divebomb gives wake to the air about the ears
Think fast
Don't move
Find root 
To drag up
Shake loose





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Written by Aubrey

It's Always an F-Word

Veins in my feet

Blood between my teeth

Not secure as in safe 

Secured 

as in sanctioned

written in 

The clause is specific

Swollen meat around my knuckles

Angry flesh around my chuckle

Not content as in happy

Conent as in capricious 

taken to

see the viscera torn out

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Written by Aubrey
It's Always an F-Word
Veins in my feet
Blood between my teeth
Not secure as in safe 
Secured 
as in sanctioned
written in 
The clause is specific

Swollen meat around my knuckles
Angry flesh around my chuckle
Not content as in happy
Conent as in capricious 
taken to
see the viscera torn out
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Written by Aubrey

Know-ledge

When you know, you know,

and then, you don't.

I know what their eyes say;

the verses in their movement. 

Steps speak volumes 

and I can be consumed

with only a walk. 

I know that the truth is 

that though we are truthless,

we know the course...

but the maps are contradicting 

and I am lost in all this thinking . 

I know I knew 

where my heart was.

I knew more than once.

Fresh, full,

and fucking pompous.

I knew. 

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Written by Aubrey
Know-ledge

When you know, you know,
and then, you don't.

I know what their eyes say;
the verses in their movement. 
Steps speak volumes 
and I can be consumed
with only a walk. 

I know that the truth is 
that though we are truthless,
we know the course...
but the maps are contradicting 
and I am lost in all this thinking . 

I know I knew 
where my heart was.
I knew more than once.
Fresh, full,
and fucking pompous.

I knew. 



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Written by Aubrey

Wayward,

and left to your own 

excitement,

where is the line?

Hail the quiet hum,

the static,

the indeterminate.

Liquor bottle legacies

cleverly disguising

unmoored mania.

Tapping fingers,

shifting toes,

the (fault)lines are festering,

churning out putrid waste

on collision. 

Note the green tint. 

How far is the deepest?

 

That's the trouble:

if you don't find it,

you have to keep it.

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Written by Aubrey
Wayward,
and left to your own 
excitement,
where is the line?

Hail the quiet hum,
the static,
the indeterminate.

Liquor bottle legacies
cleverly disguising
unmoored mania.

Tapping fingers,
shifting toes,
the (fault)lines are festering,
churning out putrid waste
on collision. 

Note the green tint. 

How far is the deepest?
 
That's the trouble:
if you don't find it,
you have to keep it.


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25 reads
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