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Literature Text
Once, you met her
all bloom and fresh out of medlearning
sorry sir we still have no response to your request
all bashfulness and apologies
funny,
to be considered a sir
when your clothes were too big
your college still fresh
your stumbling on these offices too evident
you saw her
again
still no answer sir issues with the system
still typing away at the unseen screen
still apologetic
now a wooden voice
an autumnal face
an sunsetting complexion
how curious
to come and go
always requesting
always soldering on
like every tough grown must do
and always an apology
always hapless
in her tiny tiny cubicle
no sign of her old nurse dress
but her fingertyping is everpresent
last,
you hear the typing
coming from many
many cubicles
and your rimmed glasses
strain themselves to
hear the apology
sorry sir sorry sir sorry sir
but you can´t define a face
can´t picture a voice a signature
to the hands blurring on the desk
they told you to tough it up
to man it up
many many years ago
to go out there
and handle your things
your dealings with the wide wide world
but now there is no nurse
no face to talk to
and no answer to any request
Clearly, it is your fault
you stupid senile old man.
all bloom and fresh out of medlearning
sorry sir we still have no response to your request
all bashfulness and apologies
funny,
to be considered a sir
when your clothes were too big
your college still fresh
your stumbling on these offices too evident
you saw her
again
still no answer sir issues with the system
still typing away at the unseen screen
still apologetic
now a wooden voice
an autumnal face
an sunsetting complexion
how curious
to come and go
always requesting
always soldering on
like every tough grown must do
and always an apology
always hapless
in her tiny tiny cubicle
no sign of her old nurse dress
but her fingertyping is everpresent
last,
you hear the typing
coming from many
many cubicles
and your rimmed glasses
strain themselves to
hear the apology
sorry sir sorry sir sorry sir
but you can´t define a face
can´t picture a voice a signature
to the hands blurring on the desk
they told you to tough it up
to man it up
many many years ago
to go out there
and handle your things
your dealings with the wide wide world
but now there is no nurse
no face to talk to
and no answer to any request
Clearly, it is your fault
you stupid senile old man.
Literature
Galaxy Skin
Galaxies look like milk i spilt on the lino
ethereal,
it's true;
Nut's body was is freckled with Taraxacums and gaiety.
She tells me it's like design,
tells me that, even though my cavity chest is full
of empty space held steadfast by stardust,
that it's all God's volition, that it's all art.
she tells me that numbers/words are the window to the soul,
that I should write about emptiness and glitter and detritus in the waves happiness
Literature
ambivalance
i will never be at peace
as you are
finally
because
i decided to live
even though it goes against every fiber of my being.
i miss you
i envy you
i hate you
but more than anything
i love you.
Literature
Choices
The pooling of choices
becomes the mouth piece of
decision made into action
and so I have chosen to
choose again and again to go this way
and my path swaying and swerving in the ache
it is engraved to becoming a being with
ever forming integrity and entropy
and so my chosen choice to choose
again and again I made up of these tiny troubles
flittering through me.
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