the sanguine seas
of bitter truthscorn
dance languidly
across the windows
of divine misfortune
raven feathers
whipped into daggers
like malignant scars
flutter across
barren wastelands of the heart
a scourge
of amniotic waves
amidst the half-truth horrors
impregnating themselves
across fallow virtues
reticent rejoinders
bridge past insults
to future imperfections
like a carpenter
beset by seizures
Damn Mike. How do you do it? Every day? Your writing touches my soul.
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That makes me happy. Nice to know the words aren’t floating unheard
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Definitely not
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