new poem
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Villains often come dressed as saints,know this and act accordingly.Leave neon arrows notched in signposts for fellow travelers,traversing the cosmos. It is okay to be sad and sacred,blooming out of spite,so seekers know the differencebetween gold and the lyingdust of pyrite. I can tell, you’ve never kneltby the crossroads at midnight,or carried the dirt of… Read more
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I am a learning-thing. Unpetaling flowers in late spring. Breaking my beak open for a love that isn’t coming. Drunk on the greedy need. Cawing nightlong into the blue-black hollow of absence. Sipping on the scarlet azaleas. Pulling twine from the floorboards of fusty rooms left to dust. Moon-faced on wishing. Your magpie-eyes only gaze wantingly at bursts of… Read more
