I have been writing like mad.
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And we are now leaving Bedford Falls.
I wonder if I'm the only
pillar of salt to be here.
All aboard the Titanic,
all signals to the seas.
I feel my own hands
tearing myself apart,
piece by piece
till nothing exists.
My sun fall out
amongst the stars,
here it all goes now afar.
I peel off my senses,
leaving only sounds,
to hear and to hope.
The blackened cavity
beats on in my chest,
when the rest says to you
that it's dead.
Don't fall,
don't weep,
don't start to sleep.
The burned out halo
will not rise with you
to guide your feet.
So Davinci,
will you rise from your grave,
to reassemble,
what only he could save?
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I remember
what you thought you meant
I remember
although it's along
the lines of forgetting
that fever heat
forever remembering
never forgetting the beat
i hold the fears
to pretend to love
and it's sad to know
it's never their turn
the sickest feel
along the spread of wings
they'll never know the flight
they line in like
they're soldiers
and I hang my head
and hang up my hands
for the beautiful saint
how the words can fall
out of me like a tidal
like the wave
that becomes my head
the love was progress
and parallel lines
-----------
anything
stretch it between your lips
so often as it is anything
it seems to mean everything.
and on the end of desperation
it slips its teeth into you.
----------------
did I lie down for these
these arms mark
cunning fragility
hanging letters in my windows
just in case you could walk by.
and how do we make it
through these glass nights
through those
last night
well I'll say to you
that it's a tightrope
those fogs wrapped
in those nights
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And no matter how high the fences
I bring them down
spun across the sadness of the city
the bells ring out a chorus
to picture them in singalong
and the miserable lie
that was miserable truth
only belonging to me.
and the pieces they
keep me up at night reassembling
and at the bells they do a dance
that never is quite in tune.
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what words could spin a halo
they drop on hollow bones
fill them with eager marrow
and they crack like honeycombs
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blah blah break up poetry
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