Thursday, February 5, 2009

to get what you wanted,
you had to leave everything you had,
and shedding skins, many times
in many years over many springs,
winters, summer stares with longing,
those lies, they were many and
untold, but I always knew what
you never said, in hidden there
was a rotten stink of well-being,
my keyed sunrise never felt
the lock of your moon-light,
although, your beauty deceived
by way of ruse, loyalties
outweighing self-worth, if there
is any gall left within the sack of
memory, it would be thrown
into a ever amassing pile of
sewed excuses and manipulations,
praxis relieved my theory, one
way to the other, the forest
of oaks is your table-food,
for you see nothing but your
reflected tautology, repeating
your lies to exhume what lays
cancerously buried within,
retribution damns the longing
waters, pushing with their
very force to one day assault
that which once contained,
pausing in the seconds mist,
to shed anew skin once more.

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