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Wilmer
• 76 reads

Comatose

I lie awake in cinder block towers,

Scathing pavement peels pained flesh

Strings poke and prod

Like strokes against a harp.

So night calls in song,

I dismiss star eyed mania,

Troposphere to frosted,

Arid designed dimensions,

So far yet domestic,

Breathe in rain warped leaves,

Each collected scent

An animating vapor

Colonizing heart bent

Winds of zero motion.

At last the moment stops,

My mutilated cadaver dreams

No longer, I awake

Knowing of the microscopic jabs

And miniscule droplets of

Misguided sentimental

Inferno.

Devil Rider swirls out

Like grey car exhaust.

Chrome paint wears every

Thrust forth,

I doubt luminescence

Is needed once that is

All you have.

So much for stars!

Disregard that.

At last the breeze hits,

At last I know more

Than occasional pouts

And certainty.

I sought to stay in line,

But the cracks made it

Asymmetric.

Extinction threats during

My final malaise,

Breathe with me

Fatal thoughts,

Fictional fame

Coddles childish

Aspirations, I know

No heights higher than mine.

Cross-examine me

To uncover what I cannot,

I fade,

I fade...

What is my design?

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