Stupid Stupid Fly

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Stupid stupid, fly.
I tried really hard that time,
But the more I feed,
the tighter it’s grip
upon me.

Freaky me evermore.
Satiated and empty I
gurdge myself on
this plenty,
this bounty.

Feeding in a endless
loop, how ever do I
walk away?

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Wasted Dreams

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I cried,
How in my life
I will never live in space,
how I will never live on,
or visit Mars,
never serve on cargo ships
to our mining colonies.

Was Dr. Von Braun wrong?

I cried in my loneliness
between my sheets,
of empty pleasures and
and how my stomach groans
on such a diet.

They tell me,
Those doctors,
those people,
that my life is worth living.

Of poverty and potentials
unfulfilled.

I beg your pardon,
I disagree.

Waiting For Night

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A soft glow, versus the
the harsh whiteness of day,
the light of the lamp against
brightenning daylight
form a disappearing contrast.

Overcast and the sun
looks to be on a coffee break and
the harshness covers everything in
adsolute untruthes.

No clarity or respite from the
harshness of daylight, only
a barren wasteland.

I can not wait until night.

04.27.2017

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It’s 6:14 am,
and it hasn’t returned yet.  

Also, have no idea as to when it left.  The flow, that mergence between poet, human being and decency, that drive and need to write, had disappeared and it has slowly leaked away.

I don’t know how I got this way, 

a deasert without words
for miles around, to be at
a lost for words.

But well, to be fair, I have been distracted:

My counts have dropped, and my doctors and sources are insisting that I begin HIV meds right away.

But I haven’t wanted to.
My taking meds would end my run of having a capable and strong immune system, and to take that pill will begin the doubts of
some of my beliefs.

A lost of faith.

And without that, what would my life would or should be
about.

All but one friend has adviced that I take the meds and don’t look back.

I have had my meds for days, however, and I feel no urgent to do so.

Like this would be a good time to check out from life,

Just die.

It’s frightening, to not have that desire to live, to simply be happy with my existence.

All I have is a desire to question.

Lost Cause

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I don’t believe in
Lost causes.

It’s bricks, multicolored and
bitter sweet, are the
brickwork
of my House.

The windows holds
a multitude of broken
hearts,
sliced thinly,
to allow the
moonlight in.

I know not
whom I will later love,
only that I will do so
deeply.

Wet Dream….

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The Horde has
found me,
and the Fortress
is under seige.

Engines of War
laying waste to walls
and the battlements
are breeched.

I fall back,
refusing to use all
my powers,
the Amazons and Titans
cum, attempts to
incircle me fail.

I retreat to my Temple,
locked in,
they bang at bedroom doors
demanding entrance,
persistant banging at
my bedroom doors
and the oak slits, slinter
breaking its iron bars.

They pour in and I’m
overwhelmed.

They nailed me to a cross,
feeling spikes rending flesh
and bone.

They tie me to a stake in the
the ground setting me on fire
voices muddle moans
distantly I hear myself
scream….

Awakening in sodden sheets,
wet in my lower regions
I jump out of bed,
bare running through the
gates
to find sodden grounds
and boot tracks of a great host.

Was it only a dream,
or am I dreaming now?

Looking At You….

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Not very good
At expressions,
Looking at you
leaves me
speechless.

Sometimes,
I can feel you,
When you look at me
eating,
my back turned
away.

Are our spirits
entwined?

Briefly,
when we speak to
each other,
I laugh inside,
the ice encasing
my heart
melting away.

I desire you,
replacing that ice,
But wonder if I’m….
too jaded,
unworthy for
your presence.

So I sit,
Hoping,
fearing to
Look at
You.