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RE: 2013 recordings
Little voice that piques and prances
I can hear you over these bad speakers,
close.
Nothing more familial or familiar
voice of my roots, ashy
Mechanically cold.
Distant.
Impossible for you to be
here,
for your voice to be anything
besides imitation,
a bittersweet illusion.
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Oubliez le regret
Keep your heart always in good humour
For we all ache the morning after great mistakes
And hindsight laughs that we could not see her sooner
It’s hard to cope with an unseen future
All the world rests on our worried shoulders
So keep your heart always in good humour
Morning comes with terror’s rumour
Flooding the mind with last’s nights blunders
And hindsight laughs that we could not see her…
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Aboveground
The geometrically lit windows,
3
stacked and two beside
a row of darkness between
from the train,
the streetlights
yellow or red, romantically
remind riders of life outside
outrospection
lives beside the travelling t h o u g h t
offices with investment, meetings, and deadlines
your mind
comprised of…
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I've been writing quite a bit more lately. This is a small thing I wrote.
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Magazines I don't want to read, music I hate, and waiting for a doctor who I'm worried won't help me.
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New book. New poetry. (Not particularly good though).
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Somedays, when life is busy enough, entertaining enough, or stressful enough, I'm distracted from the 5000 miles between us. It's at night, with nothing in front of me but an empty bed and plans for tomorrow that I become wrapped up in my small heartache. I miss him for the dancing and the kissing, the laughing and the cooking, the holding and the knowing.
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