Safe Distance

— I loved you in ways Impossible things are to be loved With measured hesitation Through hazy panes of mercury With wafting lips allotted To wilting shower curtains In tidings of methodical desire A mixture of alabaster and ultraviolet Certain of nothing But thirst and inevitability Eclipsed in the dismal necessity Of our psychological mileage I […]

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mecca

Time bleeds and eventually We become the archaeologist’s dream We become mecca So few ever realizing That we are the discoveries Inherent of a rare planet On this serious earth We are the buried treasures Born of stars and roving eyes Of pleasures impregnable Inconceivable to the ants Massacred in droves With each bare footed […]

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Anything but—

Carnations never garnish the caskets of kings But the flaccid sprigs serve well As the empty promises of thieves The half-hearted perianths The pastel stalemates posing as foliage Plucked by idle hands in the dead lands Of can’t manage sincerity The leafy little demons The roughage of recidivists In their much ado-about-nothingness Clutched by teary-eyed […]

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Tiny Dancer

On a foggy November morning… The ache of a melody. It awakens me to a world that is still as brutal as it is beautiful. Only more so than the day before. So cold yet so cherishing. With December looming. — I want to dedicate this song… To Rachel of In Mind and Out Blog. […]

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I remember you | Imagine that

      The truth is that I remember you I remember you in spite of facts In spite of benefit or sanity Or fate Or clarity I remember you In moments of uncharacteristic weakness In dreams after which I wake up furious Apparently subconscious consent is ambiguous And the truth is that I hate […]

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Jack Of All Trades

there is such a nonsense to us a tepid little timepiece tucked away on a tarnished chain it chandelier hangs from a breast pocket precipice reminding of vanity’s futility  of flattery and rabbit dander because technically nothing’s nonexistent and everything’s contingent on byproducts of subconscious infatuation is both inherent and absent when one desires without strings waltzes […]

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Therapy Session

I have something to confess Without coercion or duress And this isn’t easy for me in the least but— My therapist says that honesty is the best policy And apparently transparency is necessary For unabridged progression toward emotional prosperity And everyone knows  It’s wise to assign monetary value To psychological complexity And since no one […]

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The words and I

“Her heartbeat is a metaphor, a late Bloom of red flowers that refuse to fade. My darling turns to poetry at night.” – Anthony Lawrence The words and I Starry eye’d lovers aligned In the endless craving of catharsis We coalesced in the suddenness  Of our belonging, justified The words and I Swarmed by velvet […]

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my fury (III)

  fu·ry ˈfyo͝orē/ noun wild or violent anger. “tears of fury and frustration” GREEK MYTHOLOGY a spirit of punishment, often represented as one of three goddesses who executed the curses pronounced upon criminals, tortured the guilty with stings of conscience, and inflicted famines and pestilences.    I. my fury has a past, a purpose my fury […]

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I’ll end you just the same

So has it been decided? Are you my enemy, today? Or should it be so, tomorrow? Et tu, brute? Perhaps it was yesterday? When words kamikazed? From the grandeur and the xanax? Sharpening knives over coffee? Is right now the battleground? Was our love merely a claim? Shall we kiss or draw pistols? I’ll end you […]

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flirtation in the third person

  She drinks to herself Until dazed with liquid mischief A hedonist that fiends for the libertine A voyeur of her own volition She stares into the abyss and the abyss Blows back suggestive kisses As if— It already knows She belongs to lands of agony To vermillion bridges With ledges that dare lover’s to […]

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naked eye

Surface of silver, unerring Obligated to none, as Sylvia told Pristine mimicry, save for subconscious Smudges of identity, an inheritance Without frivolity, such docile echoes Ghosts in the glass, void of flattery Objective oculus, brutalities bare Impartial lens, revelations of subtlety Arbitrator of self, quietly beholden To the naked eye   | a. duncan, 2019 | […]

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I wanted to be

i wanted to be your sylvia plath your wounded wordsmith brilliant and neglected the melancholy mood lingering between us perfect for composing prose the damp air of the English countryside tainted by carbon monoxide good thing you didn’t light the birthday candles – i wanted to be your anaïs nin your erotic iconoclast uncaged and courageous the feverish […]

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