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Alyssa Rose Jan 2015
Perhaps, I'll
be a cloud.

I'll drift and
I will roam.

I'll collect crystals
of cold nothing and

I will never be enough
to stop the rain.
1.24.15.
Alyssa Rose Jan 2015
When the
machine
takes over
and grinds
your bones,
skin, and
organs
into
useless, insignificant,
easily forgotten
pieces of
organic matter,
that's it.

That's exactly it.  

You find yourself.
1.22.14.
Afflicted he sways. 
He tells me this. 
Then his ears bleed. 

Again, she's coming. 

He too is there. 

Under the cover of tequila I slipped and moved into your shoes. 
The burning sensation and the multiple *******. 

So, alone I will move. 

This is proving difficult. 
To take this heart and find the metrics necessary. 
This liquid has no geometry. 
These coughs are nothing syptomatic. 

My throat it will bleed. 
And then I will sleep. 

Again the fluid makes its own level. 
So when the pens are counted and the ounce is shortened, feel comforted. 

This gesture. 
Pointing towards a technology. 

Become the theater. 
Be the vessel of integrity. 

Oh 
we see 
your stitches bursting

and

we hear you mumble unholy lamentations. 

I offer myself discipline. 
And to you I portray daffodils. 
Or a primrose if this act does not resonate. 

Applaud yourself. 
For asking is cause ways for approval. 

This is all wiped away. 

The storms so angry and fully misunderstanding their torment blew rebirth. 


And now the trains stop too frequently. 
The continental steel divide is voiceless. 
The more powerful elements;

Clicking of tongues. 
Wagging of yellowed fingers and floppy tails. 

Open your ballot so they may steer your children's fate. 

All I wrote of now belongs to you. 
My every step covers me in unapproachable clouds. 

Silvery leaves in the forest. 
All laying down, nestling my head. 

As depressed waters. 

Discipline here. 
On this barrier of shadow, light and shadow. 

I meant to change the tapes. 
Giving this entity a broader palette. 

The classics, they just screech when inspected. 
My gazes of the house divert down to my feet. 
Its contents remained. 
Holding still and lingering with hares be. 

But I have changed. 

I kept myself with company and forgot the stories and lessons. 

So you see, your raising is now just a sad story left to burn. 

I move my feet over, not onto the tarmac. 
Gliding into the private jet and spreading my legs for these buttery levers and cartons. 
Behold the cranes and doves toiling and rising in my heart. 

Soon to drown in the acidic memories your voice is offering. 
With the push of a button I destroy your misdirection. 

The afterwards is nothing. 


Searing pain from his shadow!
How wholely I am burned by this flare from across the river. 
A touch on my shoulder and there are not enough concubines to drown my anguish. 

Display your show of strength. 
Sit with me and listen. 
It is best for us both. 


Cotton picking. 
Leathered eyes searching for currency. 
The wait outweighs the risk. 
Be honest. 
They are lying and you knew. 
Shake my hand. 
Make it mine and learn the importance of minutes. 

Trip over me as I capture this moment with your flailing aperture. 

Your head straight and your spine back to normal strength. 

Masters. 

The old emperors in comfortable clothes full of invigorating erections. 

Be tasteful with your removing a. 
Leave the droppings and soak in as much as you can. 

Who am I, young skinwalker?

Remove this part and hear his sufferings no more. 

Some lady sheds for the rest.

Southern mortars and northern pestilence. 

You should do something today. 
And stray from the strange. 


Bring your mountain stick and walk. And this is the third of your final lines. 
This, the second. 
And this is the last of you.
Tragedy.
Alyssa Rose Jan 2015
go
ahead.
shimmy along.
i'll lace
up
my chucks
and
watch you
*******
dance
while I
walk
back into
the nothing
from
which
I
came.
1.18.14.
Oh phantom city, believe not the lies of these citizens. 
Steer your smile away from the sun. 
Remain in the fog. 
In the morning gloom and groans. 
Continue breathing. 

The sea breathes in then out. 
And this repeats for all those who near it. 
At night or in the cold afternoon. 

Stricken with guilt your waves recede. 

For years you've swallowed our children. 
Dissolving our futures. 
Recreating them in images of hunters emerging with your translucent skin. 
With teeth so perfect and eyes free of disease. 
Raised in and given nothing but the dreams of silent death. 

She walks with child in hand.
I afflicted by his tug towards your loving grace. 
Eyes scanning the shore. 
For oiled bodies and gleaming eyes. 
A predatory stance. 
One to complete her suffering. 

Dreams dissolve and return me to creation's simple ground. 

Where are you now? 

Are you there in the bright lights?

Are you passenger?

Be it in the front seat or the rear, you've not forgotten where you are going. 

The sites to see are nothing if not with me.
Tragedy.
Alyssa Rose Jan 2015
Let's defy gravity, baby.

Let's defy that *****
until her forceful hands shake us
back to reality.

We'll rise above this dreary world
and play leap frog among the stars.

We'll smoke one with the moon
while he
spills secrets about the Sun.

We'll get drunk off faith
and throw a prayer or two up ahead
for the Man Upstairs.

When the magic fades,
We'll hold one another as the law comes back into effect
and we slowly drift through the clouds
claiming lazily
that the moon prefers Southern Comfort.
1.16.14
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