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    the art of comin apart

    I’m brilliance that bruisesa fever dream with good lightinthe kinda spark that burns your fingersand makes you thank it for the scar I can fill a room withpoems that bitethat spill like smoke and honeymusic that drags the dark closerjust...

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    funérailles: dead chords in livin hands

    lid uplamp lowI settle into the benchfeet plantedback straightshoulders loosejaw tighthands hover thumbs low those first notes are flawless I can feel your ghostcan see the tilt of your headthe slow nod with each perfectly executed notecan hear the scrape of...

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    twofiftythree wrote a new post

    rhapsody for the dyin sound

    the bench was coldhands shakinleft waitsit’s sick of metired of me makin it askfinds the low Apresses down hardaskin me to open enough to breakright hoversfingers twitchina restless charge in the dark damper pedal downmy godmy only fuckin godI press...

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    • I read this and imagined Bruce Hornsby banging on his keys as he belts out “That’s the way it is”—
      and those people “Standin’ in line, marking time, waiting for the welfare dime, cause they can’t buy a job”—
      The piano is an inanimate object that the speaker in this poem brings to life…
      the poem has life.
      Good write.
      j.

    • Powerfully penned, twofiftythree. Love the raw vibe of this one my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

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    twofiftythree wrote a new post

    beggin for a sunrise

    I woke up brokenheartbeat caughtin the last seconds of a dreamhands slicklife spillin thru my fingersheat that won’t fade no soundonly the dark leanin inblack bodies without skinfaces scraped from charcoalgleamin thin white teethscattered in mouths too wideperchin above the...

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    • This feels like a night mare while you were awake

    • Asleep but dreaming of being awake and trying to escape torturous thoughts.
      They do find us one way or another. We can smoke our joint to space out and away from what’s closing in, but can we
      escape it? I don’t know.
      I really like the dialect used here…you do that so well and it fits perfectly with the theme.
      j.

    • Hauntingly penned, Ambjr. Great storytelling and powerful imagery my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • Didn’t want too read this through but – of course I did. Your voice was loud and clear whether muttering as you tossed and turned or, were yelling deep down in living hell or – maybe a barbaric battle zone. Or could be the three : a sadistic unholy trinity. Have a feeling that this will linger through my day in great bursts of plasma shooting its way down and down to.. wherever. All too visual -but readers will have his/her own reaction. Cn think of paintings by.. is it Breugel? There’s another.. no matter, your words are more than visual.

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    twofiftythree wrote a new post

    it waits

    it came up the side of the pergolahand over handfingers wrappin round woodas it climbed no breathno whispered threatsonly the scrape of clawsdraggin itself higher when it reached the top beamit croucheda face of ash and absencea body without eyeshead tilted watchinwaitin a...

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