Sunday, July 15, 2012

The Poetry Of The Living Dead

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the past
pursuing
from
behind
the future
elusively
running
ahead
the spirit
less alive
more dead
doomed
deleted
memories
like a shroud
on the soul
of my poetry
spread
a bleeding
forehead
the flesh
in shreds
my soul
my body
needle
thread
across
the garden
path of hope
i was misled
she did
not mean
what she
said
i believed
her instead
pillow talk
i curse
the bed

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