Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
frailties
,
manic
,
philosophy
Consuming herself in doses. One disease to quiet the next in a tireless cycle of killing herself to live. Toothless lion biting antelope necks. Gaining nothing except perspective.
The truth of tomorrow is that it knows us before we do it. A womb from which we explode. Born over and over again until there is nothing left of from where we came. Children of nothing making gods from the voids in ourselves. Creating heavens from the seeds we were not patient enough to grow.
I don't have a garden anymore. No expectations. I never wake up anymore. It's just sleep interrupted. A dazzling spectacle of skin scrambling to cover what I don't want anyone to see.
The cure betrays.
Small doses of disease become too much.
This poem has line after line of thought provoking sentiment. The boldness of your work stuns me.
Wanted you to know I really enjoyed this piece. The imagery is scary poignant. I sense the struggle, seduction and detestation in your words...forgive if this is presumptuous and in error. Nonetheless your poem is artistically inspiring and demands the reader participate with you in self-reflection.
FYI. I used a line from this poem as a quote in one of my blog entries. I appreciate your contribution to my creative energies.
how'd you get your name to be a triangle? that's really cool.
thanks for the positive input.
it's always a great honor to be quoted.
i hope i can continue to impress.
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